"Tomorrow begins the last week of Autumn," said Thorin one day.

"And winter comes after autumn," said Bifur in Dwarvish.

"And next year after that," said Dwalin, "and our beards will grow till they hang down the cliff to the valley below us before anything happens here. What is our burglar doing for us? Since he has got an invisible ring, and ought to a specially excellent performer now, I am beginning to think he might go through the Front Gate and spy things out a bit!"

Bilbo heard this—the Dwarves were on the rocks just above the enclosure where he was sitting— and 'Good Gracious!' he thought, 'so that is what they are beginning to think, is it? It id always poor me that has to get them out of their difficulties, at least since the wizard left. Whatever am I going to do? I might have known that something dreadful would happen to me in the end. I don't think I could bear to see the unhappy valley of Dale again, and as for that steaming gate!!!'

That night he was very miserable and hardly slept. Next day the Dwarves all went wandering off in various directions; some were exercising the ponies down below, some were roving about the mountain-side. All day Bilbo sat gloomily in the grassy bay gazing at the stone, or out west through the narrow opening. He had a queer feeling that he was waiting for something. 'Perhaps the wizard will suddenly come back today, or Hannah has been set free or managed to escape on her own and is coming to meet us,' he thought.

If he lifted his head he could see a glimpse of the distance forest. As the sun turned west there was a gleam of yellow upon its far roof, as if the light caught the last pale leaves. Soon he saw the orange ball of the sun sinking towards the level of his eyes. He went to the opening and there pale and faint was a thin new moon above the rim of Earth.

At that very moment he heard a sharp crack behind him. There on the grey stone in the grass was an enormous thrush, nearly coal black, its pale yellow breast flecked with dark spots. Crack! It had caught a snail and was knocking it on the stone. Crack! Crack!

Suddenly Bilbo understood. Forgetting all danger he stood on the ledge and hailed the Dwarves, shouting and waving. Those that were nearest came tumbling over the rocks and as fast as they could along the ledge to him, wondering what on earth was the matter; the others shouted to be hauled up the ropes (except Bombur, of course: he was asleep).

Quickly Bilbo explained. They all fell silent: the hobbit standing by the grey stone, and the Dwarves with wagging beards watching impatiently. The sun sank lower and lower, and their hopes fell. It sank into a belt of reddened cloud and disappeared. The Dwarves groaned, but still Bilbo stood almost without moving. The little moon was dipping into the horizon. Evening was coming on. Then suddenly when their hope was lowest a red ray of the sun escaped like a finger through a rent in the cloud. A gleam of light came straight through the opening into the bay and fell on the smooth rock-face. The old thrush, who had been watching from a high perch with beady eyes and head cocked on one side, gave a sudden trill. There was a loud crack. A flake of rock split from the wall and fell. A hole appeared suddenly about three feet from the ground.

Quickly, trembling lest the chance should fade, the Dwarves rushed to the rock and pushed—in vain.

"The key! The key!" cried Bilbo. "Where is Thorin?"

Thorin hurried up.

"The key!" shouted Bilbo. "The key that went with the map! Try it now while there is still time!"

Then Thorin stepped up and drew the key on its chain from round his neck. He put it to the hole. It fitted and it turned! Snap! The gleam went out, the sun sank, the moon was gone, and evening sprang into the sky.

Now they all pushed together, and slowly a part of the rock-wall gave way. Long straight cracks appeared and widened. A door five feet high and three feet broad was outlined, and slowly without a sound swung inwards. It seemed as if darkness flowed out like a vapor from the hole in the mountain-side, and deep darkness in which nothing could be seen lay before their eyes, a yawning mouth leading in and down.

For a long time the Dwarves stood in the dark before the door and debated, until at last Thorin spoke:

"Now is the time for our esteemed Mr. Baggins, who has proved himself a good companion on our long road, and hobbit full of courage and resource far exceeding his size, and if I may say so possessed of good luck far exceeding the usual allowance—now is the time for him to perform the service for which he was included in our Company; now it is time for him to earn his Reward."

You are familiar with Thorin's style on important occasions, so I will not give you any more of it, but he went on a good deal longer than this. It certainly was an important occasion, but Bilbo felt impatient. By now he was quite familiar with Thorin too, and he knew what he was driving at.

"If you mean you think it is my job to go into the secret passages first, O Thorin Thráin's son Oakenshield, may your beard grow ever longer," he said crossly, "say so at once and have done! I might refuse. I have got you out of two messes already, which were hardly in the original bargain, so that I am, I think, already owed some reward. But 'third time pays for all' as my father used to say, and somehow I don't think I shall refuse. Perhaps I have begun to trust my luck more than I used to in the old days"—he meant last spring before he left his own house, but it seemed centuries ago—"but anyway I think I will go and have a peep at once and get it over. Now who is coming with me?"

He did not expect a chorus of volunteers, so he was not disappointed. Fili and Kili looked uncomfortable and stood on one leg, but the others made no pretense of offering—except old Balin, the look-out man, who was rather fond of the hobbit. He said he would come inside at least and perhaps a bit of the way too, really to call for help if necessary.

The most that can be said for the Dwarves is this: they intended to pay Bilbo handsomely for his services; they had brought him to do a nasty job for them, and they did not mind the poor little fellow doing it if he would; but they would all have done their best to get him out of trouble, if he got into it, as they did in the case of the trolls at the beginning of their adventures before they had any particular reasons for being grateful to him. There it is: Dwarves are not heroes, but calculating folk with a great idea of the value o f money; some are tricky and treacherous and pretty bad lots; some are not, but are decent enough people like Thorin and Company, if you don't expect too much.

The stars were coming out behind him in a pale sky barred with black when the hobbit crept through the enchanted door and stole into the Mountain. It was far easier going than he expected. This was no rough goblin entrance, or winding Wood-elves' cave. It was a passage made by Dwarves, the height of their wealth and skill: straight as a ruler, smooth-floored and smooth-sided, going with a gentle never-varying slope direct—to some distant end in the blackness below. As they walked Balin outlined the task that the hobbit was expected to complete in greater detail. They of course wished for him to recover as much of their lost treasure from the Dragon's hoard as he was able, but their chief concern lay with the recovery of very special jewel known as the Arkenstone.

"You want me to find a jewel?" asked Bilbo.

"A large white jewel, yes," answered Balin.

"That's it? Only I imagine there are quite a few down there."

"There is only one Arkenstone. And you'll know it when you see it," said Balin gravely, as that should be all the explanation he needed.

"Right," said Bilbo, wishing the Dwarf could be a little less vague.

"In truth, lad," said Balin with a sigh, "I do not know what you will find down there. You needn't go if you don't want to. There's no dishonor in turning back."

"No, Balin. I promised I would do this. And I think I must try," answered Bilbo resolutely, despite his own nervousness. Suddenly Balin chuckled.

"It never ceases to amaze me!" said the Dwarf.

"What's that?"

"The courage of Hobbits."

Bilbo smiled.

With that settled they continued on. After a while Balin stopped where he could still see the faint outline of the door, and by a trick of the echoes of the tunnel hear the rustle of the whispering voices of the others just outside, and the Dwarf bade Bilbo "Good luck!" and the hobbit nodded and was about to slip on his ring before continuing on when Balin added: "Oh, and, Bilbo."

"Mm?" said the hobbit.

"If there is in fact a, um, live dragon down there... don't waken it."

Once again, though more grimly this time, Bilbo nodded in understanding. Then the hobbit slipped on his ring, and warned by the echoes to take more than a hobbit's care to make no sound, he crept noiselessly down, down, down, into the dark. He was trembling with fear, but his little face was set and grim. Already he was a very different hobbit from the one that had run out without a pocket-handkerchief from Bag End long ago. He had not had a pocket-handkerchief (there one Hannah had lent to him was now reduced to little more than a scrap by all the wear and tear it had been subjected to over the course of their journey) for ages. He loosened his dagger in its sheath, tightened his belt, and went on.

"Now you are in for it at last, Bilbo Baggins," he said to himself. "You went and put your foot right in it the night of the party, and now you have to pull it out and pay for it! Dear me, what a fool I was and am!" said the least Tookish part of him. "I have absolutely no use for dragon-guarded treasures, and the whole lot could stay here forever, if only I could wake up and find this beastly tunnel was my own front-hall at home!"

He did not wake up of course, but went still on and on, till all sign of the door behind him had faded away. He was altogether alone. Soon he thought it was beginning to feel warm. Is that a kind of glow I seem to see coming right ahead down there? he thought.

It was. As he went forward it grew and grew, till there was no doubt about it. It was a red light steadily getting redder and redder. Also it was now undoubtedly hot in the tunnel. Wisps of vapor floated up and past him and he began to sweat. A sound, too, began to throb in his ears, a sort of bubbling like the noise of a large pot galloping on the fire, mixed with a rumble as of a gigantic tom-cat purring. This grew to the unmistakable gurgling noise of some vast animal snoring in its sleep down there in the red glow in front of him.

It was at this point that Bilbo stopped. Going on from there was the bravest thing he ever did. The tremendous things that happened afterward were as nothing compared to it. He fought the real battle in the tunnel alone, before he ever saw the vast danger that lay in wait. At any rate after a short halt go on he did; and you can picture him coming to the end of the tunnel, an opening of much the same size and shape as the door above. Through it peeps the hobbit's little head. Before him lies the great bottommost cellar or dungeon-hall of the ancient Dwarves right at the Mountain's root. It is almost dark so that its vastness can only be dimly guessed, but rising from the near side of the rocky floor there is a great glow. The glow of Smaug!

There he lay, a vast red-golden dragon, fast asleep; a thrumming came from his jaws and nostrils, and wisps of smoke, but his fires were low in slumber. Beneath him, under all his limbs and his huge coiled tail, and about him on all sides stretching away across the unseen floors, lay countless piles of precious things, gold wrought and unwrought, gems and jewels, and silver red-stained in the ruddy light.

Smaug lay, with wings folded like an immeasurable bat, turned partly on one side, so that the hobbit could see his underparts and his long pale belly crusted with gems and fragments of gold from his long lying on his costly bed, behind him where the walls were nearest could dimly be seen coats of mail, helms, axes, swords and pears hanging; and there in rows stood great jars and vessels filled with wealth that could not be guessed.

To say that Bilbo's breath was taken away is no description at all. There are no words left to express his staggerment, since Men changed the language that they learned of Elves in the days when all the world was wonderful. Bilbo had heard tell and sing of dragon-hoards before, but the splendor, the lust, the glory of such treasure had never yet come home to him. His heart was filled and pierced with enchantment and with the desire of the Dwarves; and he gazed motionless, almost forgetting the frightful guardian, at the gold beyond price and count.

He gazed for what seemed an age, before drawn almost against his will, he stole from the shadow of the doorway, across the floor to the nearest edge of the mounds of treasure. Above him the sleeping dragon lay, a dire menace even in his sleep. Just as the hobbit had feared the vague description that Balin had given him of the Arkenstone was not at all helpful. There were so many 'large white gems' mixed in among the vast hoard that it was rather like trying to find a needle in a haystack. He grasped an especially large and unshaped white gem-stone to inspect it, and cast one fearful eye upwards. Smaug stirred a wing, opened a claw, the rumble of his snoring changed its note.

Bilbo stiffened in alarm, ready to make a run for it. But the dragon did not wake—not yet—but shifted into other dreams of greed and violence, lying there in his stolen hall while the hobbit allowed himself to breath again. His heart was beating and a more fevered shaking was in his legs than when he was going down, but still he continued his search for the Arkenstone. Unfortunately for Bilbo, its next most likely candidate was much closer to the sleeping dragon. The hobbit crept forward with greater care than ever and gingerly removed the gleaming jewel. Unfortunately, this time the dragon did wake, and Bilbo quickly dropped what was in his hand and instinctively ducked for cover, despite still being thoroughly invisible. Dragons may not have much real use for all their wealth, but they know it to an ounce as a rule, especially after long possession; and Smaug was no exception. He had passed from an uneasy dream (in which a warrior, altogether insignificant in size but provided with a bitter sword and great courage, figured most unpleasantly) to a doze, and from a doze to wide waking. There was a breath of strange air in his cave. Could there be a draught from that little hole? He had never felt quite happy about it, though it was so small, and now he glared at it with open suspicion and wondered why he had never blocked it up. Of late he had half fancied he had caught the dim echoes of a knocking sound from far above that came down through it to his lair. He stirred and stretched forth his neck to sniff. He growled lightly.

"Well, thief..." the Dragon's deep voice rumbled as he took another sniff at the air, turning his head in the hobbit's direction. "I smell you. I hear your breath. I feel your air. Where are you? Where are you?" asked Smaug drawing closer until his great snout was only an inch away. I'm afraid this proved too much for Bilbo, and he made a mad dash for it. Though Smaug could not see the hobbit himself, the gold scattering in his wake gave away poor Bilbo's position. The great serpent slithered round the pillars of the hall, sliding across the gold to cut off his escape; the hobbit quickly stepped back into the crevice of another pillar to hide. "Come now. Don't be shy," said the Dragon. "Step into the light." Of course Bilbo did no such thing and kept well out of the way while Smaug continued to look around. "Hmm. There is something about you. Something you carry. Something made of gold. But far more... precious." The word 'precious' seemed to echo in Bilbo's head until he saw a flash of something like a great flaming eye. Frightened, the hobbit quickly removed the ring from his finger and found that he had unwittingly revealed himself.

"There you are, thief in the shadows," said Smaug smugly upon spotting him.

"I did not come to steal from you, O Smaug, the Tremendous!" said Bilbo humbly in a trembling voice. "I merely wanted to gaze upon your magnificence, to see if you really were as great as the old tales say. I did not believe them!"

"And do you now?" said the Dragon somewhat flattered, though he did not believe a word of it, as he stepped round the hobbit to stand in front of him and reveal his full stature, drawing himself up to his full height.

"Truly. The tales and songs fall utterly short of the reality, O Smaug the Chiefest and Greatest of Calamities."

"You have nice manners for a thief and a liar. Do you think flattery will keep you alive?" sneered the Dragon.

"No, no," stammered the nervous and anxious hobbit.

"No indeed," said Smaug. "You seem familiar with my name, but I don't remember smelling your kind before. Who are you and where do you come from, may I ask?"

Bilbo opened his mouth, about to answer, when suddenly his eyes were drawn to a little globe of pallid light. It was the Arkenstone, the Heart of the Mountain. Indeed there could be not two such gems, even in so marvelous a hoard, even in all the world. He forced himself to tear his eyes away from it and focus on its terrible guardian.

"I-I come from under the hill and under the hills and over the hills my paths have led. And through the air, I am he that walks unseen."

"Impressive," said Smaug, "but that is hardly your usual name."

"I am the clue-finder, the web-cutter, the stinging fly. I was chosen for the lucky number."

"Lovely titles!" sneered the dragon. "But lucky numbers don't always come off."

"I am he who buries his friends alive and drowns them and draws them alive again from the water. I came from the end of a bag, but no bag went over me."

"These don't sound so credible," scoffed Smaug.

"I am the friend of bears and the guest of eagles. I am Ringwinner and Luckwearer; and I am Barrel-rider," went on Bilbo beginning to be pleased with his riddling.

"That's better!" said Smaug. "But don't let your imagination run away with you!"

This of course is the way you talk to dragons, if you don't want to reveal your proper name (which is wise), and don't want to infuriate them by a flat out refusal (which is also very wise). No dragon can resist the fascination of riddling talk and of wasting time trying to understand it. There was a lot here which Smaug did not understand at all (though I expect you do, since you know all about Bilbo's adventures to which he was referring), but he thought he understood enough, and he chuckled in his wicked inside.

I thought so, he smiled to himself. Lake-men, some nasty scheme of those miserable tub-trading Lake-men, or I'm a lizard. I haven't been down that way for an age and an age; but I will soon alter that!

"Very well, O Barrel-rider!" he said aloud. "Now that is interesting. And what about your little Dwarf friends? Where are they hiding?"