Prologue: The Hobbit
In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort.
The door was round like a porthole and green painted; the exactly centered yellow doorknob gleamed brightly. When opened, it led to a perfectly round hall shaped like a tunnel: a comfortable, smoky-free living room with decorated walls, carpeted and tiled floors, and many polished chairs around. Because hobbits dislike unexpected visitors, there were numerous coat racks by the entrance. The tunnel continued, winding deeper into the hillside. Neighbors for miles around called this hill "The Hill." Various square little doors branched off from it. Hobbits don't climb stairs: living rooms, bathrooms, cellars, dining rooms (there were so many!), dressing rooms (he had ten rooms just for clothes), kitchens, dining halls—all were on one floor and along one corridor. The best rooms were all on the right (as you go out) because only those rooms had windows, which looked out over his beautiful garden and a green lawn leading to the riverbank.
This hobbit lived quite comfortably, his surname being Baggins. The Baggins family had long resided in this area near the Great Hill, and the neighbors respected them—not just because they mostly had money, but also because they never adventured and did nothing surprising. You could predict their answers to any question about the Baggins family without wasting much effort. This story is about how a certain Baggins unexpectedly got involved in an adventure and did many surprising things. He might have gained respect from his neighbors, but not without losing something else! You'll find out what he gained eventually.
Now, let's talk about our hobbit—what exactly is a hobbit? Nowadays, indeed, a more detailed description of hobbits is necessary, as they have become rarer and are more afraid of us big folk (this is what they call us). They are rather small creatures, about half our height, shorter even than bearded dwarves. Hobbits do not grow beards. They have no magic (or perhaps just a little), only disappearing when we clumsy giants blunder towards them like elephants. Typically, they have stout bellies and love wearing bright clothing (mostly green and yellow). They don’t wear shoes because their small feet grow natural pads and hair as thick as their heads. Hobbits possess nimble brown fingers, cheerful faces, and cry very openly (especially after dinner, where crying is almost mandatory; if given the chance, they usually have two dinners a day).
Now, I mentioned earlier, this Miss Belladonna Took—one of the extraordinary children of the Old Took, who was the leader of the hobbits living by the "Small River" that ran past the Hill. People often say (other families frequently mention) that one of the Tooks' ancestors must have married a sprite husband. Of course, this likelihood isn't high, but they certainly have a touch of the unusual, occasionally setting out on adventures together. They mysteriously disappear, leaving others completely silent, not revealing anything. Because of this, although the Took family is richer, people still respect the Baggins family more. After Belladonna became the wife of Mr. Bungo Baggins, she didn't do anything surprising anymore. Bungo was Bilbo's father, who doted on her immensely, building her (partly with her wealth) the most luxurious underground home near the Hill and by the Small River. However, her only son Bilbo, though looking honest and reliable like his father, may have inherited the quirky bloodline of the Tooks, just waiting for the right moment to burst forth.
Until Bilbo reached old age, even up to fifty years old, this moment had not arrived. During this time, he peacefully lived in the underground home left by his father, isolated from the world. But, the opportunity came suddenly and unexpectedly. At that time, the world was greener and quieter, and hobbits still lived simply and prosperously. Bilbo Baggins had just finished breakfast and was standing at the door smoking a very long pipe, nearly touching his freshly combed furry feet, when Gandalf appeared.
Speaking of Gandalf! If your knowledge of him reaches half of mine—and my stories are merely a drop in the ocean—you can imagine unimaginable wonders ahead. Wherever he goes, adventures and legends sprout like mushrooms after rain, and always in the most unexpected ways. He hadn't been near the Hill for many years—"doing work for the poor"—since the passing of his close friend Old Took, and people had almost forgotten what he looked like. In their childhood, Gandalf was often busy running around the Hill and the Small River. However, all Bilbo saw that morning was an old man with a staff. He wore a pointed blue hat, a gray cloak, a silver scarf, red beard reaching to his waist, and heavy black boots.
"Good morning!" said Bilbo sincerely. It was sunny and the grass was very green. But Gandalf scrutinized him with his long, bushy eyebrows raised.
"What do you mean?" asked Gandalf. "Are you greeting me well this morning, or saying that regardless of what I do, the morning is good? Or do you think this morning is fine, or that tomorrow should start with a good mood?"
"All of the above!" said Bilbo. "And it's perfect for smoking a pipe outside. If you have a pipe, why not sit beside me and use my tobacco! There’s no need to hurry! There are still ten days to enjoy!"
With that, Bilbo sat on the stool by the door, crossed his legs, and blew a beautiful gray smoke ring, which floated intact beyond the Hill.
"Beautiful!" said Gandalf. "But I don't have time to blow smoke rings today. I'm looking for someone to join me on an upcoming adventure, but I can't find anyone here!"
"In this area? Of course! We are ordinary people living honestly, we don't need adventures. That's troubling and uncomfortable, ruining dinner! I really don't understand what's fun about adventures."
Bilbo pushed his thumbs into his belt and blew another larger smoke ring. Then he released the letter he received last night, began to recite it, pretending not to have time for the old man. He had already decided that he couldn't get along with this guy and hoped he would leave soon. But the old man had no intention of leaving. Leaning on his staff, he silently scrutinized the hobbit until Bilbo felt uneasy and somewhat annoyed.
"Good morning again!" he finally said impatiently. "Thank you for your kindness, but we don't need any adventures here! You can check on the other side of the Hill or around the River."
This meant asking the person to leave immediately.
"Your 'good morning' has many uses!" said Gandalf. "This time, you're telling me to leave, aren't you? And if I don't, the morning won't be good, right?"
"My dear sir, I didn't mean that! Let me think... I don't seem to know you, do I?"
"No, you did mean that, you did mean that! My dear sir, I know your name, Mr. Bilbo Baggins, and you should know mine, but you can't associate me with it. I am Gandalf, Gandalf is me! Who would have thought that Belladonna's son would speak to me like this, as if I were a button salesman!"
"Gandalf, Gandalf, heavens! You wouldn't be the one who gave Old Took a pair of magical diamond earrings that never fall unless commanded by the owner? I remember this fellow who told countless wonderful stories at banquets—dragons, goblins, giants, and the lucky son saving maidens! And this fellow made fantastic fireworks! I remember that magnificent firework display! Old Took would set them off on the winter solstice evening! I will never forget them! They flew like fire trees and hung in the air like mirages all night! I remember the lotus, dragon mouths, and golden chains hanging in the air..."
Dear readers should have noticed that Mr. Baggins wasn't as dull as he thought, and he loved flowers very much.
"Goodness me!" he continued happily, "This Gandalf influenced many boastful young men and dreaming girls to go on adventures! Some climbed trees looking for treasure, others sailed boats wanting to cross to the other side! Goodness, it used to be peaceful here! I mean, you used to cause quite a stir around here. I'm sorry, but I didn't expect you to still be in business!"
"Where else could I go?" said the wizard. "However, I'm glad you remember so many of my deeds, at least you seem to have a good impression of my fireworks. It seems you still have some hope. Yes, for the sake of your grandmother, the poor Belladonna, I will fulfill your wish."
"Pardon, help yourself, I don't have any wishes!"
"Yes, you do! And you've said it twice. I'll understand you, and in fact, I will personally take you on this adventure. It will be interesting for me and beneficial for you—even if you complete this adventure, there will be decent rewards."
"Gratitude, gratitude! Excuse me, but I really don't want any adventures, at least not today. We've greeted each other good morning! Please come for tea if you have time! How about tomorrow? See you later!"
With that, the hobbit hurriedly ducked indoors, opening the door as fast as possible without being impolite. After all, wizards are still wizards, best not to offend them.
"What nonsense, why did I invite him for tea!" he scolded himself as he rushed into the dining room. He had just eaten breakfast, but after this shock, perhaps a couple of cakes and some drinks would help calm his nerves.
Meanwhile, Gandalf still sat outside the door, smiling kindly. After laughing for a while, he stepped back, using the blunt end of his staff to carve a strange mark on Bilbo's beloved green door, then turned around and left, just as Bilbo swallowed his second cake, congratulating himself on skillfully avoiding a terrible adventure.
The next day, this guy was so full of food and drink that he almost completely forgot about Gandalf. Unless he wrote things down in his appointment book, his memory wasn't great. Usually, he would write: "Gandalf for tea on Wednesday;" that day, he completely forgot about it. Just before afternoon tea time, the back doorbell rang loudly, and he remembered!
He hurriedly prepared another teacup and saucer and a few cakes, rushing to the door.
"Sorry to keep you waiting!"
He was about to say that when he realized it wasn't Gandalf. Instead, it was a dwarf with a blue beard tucked into a gold belt, wearing a dark green hat and having very bright eyes. As soon as the door opened, he walked straight in as if the host and he were close friends. He hung his hooded cloak on the nearest coat rack and said,
"Dwalin at your service!"
He bowed slightly.
"Bilbo Baggins at your service!"
The hobbit was so surprised he forgot what to ask. When the ensuing silence became awkward, he added,
"I'm about to have tea, please join me."
It was somewhat stiff, but he was sincere. What else could you do if a dwarf intrudes uninvited into your home without a word?
They hadn't been sitting long, and they had barely eaten three cakes when the doorbell rang again, louder this time.
"I must excuse myself!"
The hobbit rushed to the door again, intending to say, "You've finally come!" to Gandalf, but it wasn't Gandalf. It was another dwarf, older-looking with a red beard, wearing a white hat. Similarly, he jumped in as soon as the door opened, as if he'd received the invitation hundreds of years ago.
"They've all started arriving!" he said when he saw Dwalin's hat hanging on the rack. He hung his own white hat next to it and said,
"Balin at your service!"
He touched his chest in a bow.
"Indeed!" Bilbo was startled, it wasn't proper to say that, but the phrase "they've all started arriving" threw him off. He liked visitors, but he hated being the host, especially when he didn't personally invite them. He suddenly had an ominous premonition that there might not be enough cakes. And as the host, he had an unwavering rule: guests must eat first, even if it meant he himself would go hungry.
"Quick, come in for tea!"
After taking a deep breath, he finally managed to say.
"Kind sir, if you don't mind, beer would be better!"
Said Balin with a black beard.
"Of course, of course, I have plenty!"
Bilbo surprisingly found himself answering thus, and his feet moved on their own accord. He fetched a large jug of beer from the cellar and two fragrant square seed cakes from the pantry, which he had baked that afternoon to serve as dessert after dinner. When he returned, Balin and Dwalin were already chatting like old friends (in fact, they were brothers).
Just as Bilbo placed the beer and cakes on the table, the doorbell rang loudly again, twice!
"This must be Gandalf!" he predicted as he ran down the corridor panting, but it wasn't. Two more dwarfs arrived, both wearing blue hoods, silver belts, sporting yellow beards, and carrying bags of tools and shovels. As soon as the door opened, they rushed in without hesitation, though this time it didn't surprise Bilbo.
"Dear dwarfs, is there anything I can assist with?"
"Oin at your service!"
One of them said.
"And Fili too!"
The other added. Both quickly removed their hats and bowed deeply.
"At your service, sir, and your family!"
Bilbo finally replied politely.
"Since Oin and Balin have already arrived,"
Kili said,
"Let's have some fun!"
"Fun!" thought Mr. Baggins,
"This doesn't sound good. I need to sit down and have a sip of tea, and carefully consider the situation."
He hid in the corner for a sip, while the other four dwarfs sat boldly at the table, loudly laughing about mines, gold, troubles caused by goblins, dragon raids, and many other things he didn't understand and didn't want to hear because these sounded too adventurous.
Then, ding dong, his doorbell rang again, as if a mischievous hobbit child was trying to pull it off with all their strength.
"Another one's come!"
He blinked.
"From the sound, I guess it's four people,"
Fili said,
"And we saw them coming before us."
The unfortunate hobbit stood in the main hall, holding his head in one hand, unsure what was going on and whether these guests would stay for dinner. Then, the doorbell rang loudly again without fear, and he had to rush to open it. To his surprise, it wasn't four but five people! As he stood dumbfounded in the living room, another dwarf joined them; as soon as he gently turned the handle, everyone surged in, all bowing and saying,
"At your service!"
They were Dori, Nori, Ori, Oin, and Gloin. Quickly, two purple hats, one gray hat, one brown hat, and one black hat were hung on the coat rack. These dwarfs all had their hands on golden or silver belts, joining their comrades with great confidence. These indeed looked ready for some fun.
Some wanted ale, some wanted porter, one wanted coffee, but everyone wanted cake. Thus, the busy hobbit went back and forth several times. A large pot of coffee was boiling on the stove, all the seed cakes were gone, and the dwarfs started on buttered scones. At this moment, there was a loud knock at the door.
This time it wasn't the doorbell but a knocking sound on the hobbit's beautiful green door—someone was hitting it with a stick! Bilbo angrily rushed through the corridor, his mind in chaos, unable to make sense of anything. This was the most disordered Wednesday of his life. He pushed the door open hard, and everyone tumbled inside, one after another falling onto the floor. Four more dwarfs had arrived! Gandalf sat in front, leaning on his staff and laughing heartily. He had knocked without leaving marks and erased the secret sign he made that day.
"Careful! Careful!"
He said,
"Bilbo, letting friends wait at the door and rudely pushing it open isn't like you! Allow me to introduce Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur, and this is Thorin!"
"At your service!"
Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur lined up to say. Then they hung two yellow hats and one dark green hat, along with another sky-blue hat with a long silver tassel. The last hat belonged to Thorin, a very important dwarf, in fact, Thorin Oakenshield. He wasn't happy lying on the floor with Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur on top of him, especially since the fat Bombur was surprisingly heavy. Thorin was quite proud and didn't say "at your service"; however, the poor Bilbo had already said it many times, and finally grunted, "No more!"
"Everyone's here!"
Gandalf looked at the thirteen colorful hats suitable for a banquet and his own pointed hat hanging on the hat rack and said,
"This is rare! I hope those who leave early still have something to eat and drink. What's that? Tea! No, thank you. I want some wine."
"Me too,"
Thorin said.
"And some blueberry jam and apple tarts,"
Bifur said.
"And some meat pies and cheese,"
Bofur said.
"And some pork pies and mustard,"
Bombur said.
"If you don't mind, some more cake, ale, and coffee!"
Other dwarfs shouted through the door.
"And a few boiled eggs, you're such a bad man!"
As Bilbo stumbled toward the dining room, they added,
"Don't forget the bacon and pickles!"
"How does this guy know my pantry so well!"
Mr. Baggins thought, feeling confused. He began to suspect whether this was the beginning of the most worrying adventure entering his home. By the time he gathered all the cups, bowls, forks, bottles, and dishes on a large tray, he was sweating profusely, pale-faced, and quite unhappy.
"These dwarfs are so impolite!"
He exclaimed aloud,
"Why don't they help?"
Goodness, weren't Balin and Dwalin standing by the door? Behind them were Fili and Kili. Before he could utter the second word, they carried the trays and small tables inside and arranged everything neatly.
Gandalf was surrounded by thirteen dwarfs, and Bilbo sat on a small stool by the fireplace, nibbling on a piece of biscuit (his appetite had temporarily disappeared), trying to remain calm and act as if everything was normal and this was no adventure for him.
The dwarfs ate and talked endlessly, time passed, and finally, they pushed their chairs back. Bilbo was about to clear the table.
"Would you all stay for dinner?"
He asked in the calmest and politest tone.
"Of course!"
Thorin said,
"We'll stay a bit longer. It's inconvenient to conduct business so late, and we should enjoy some music. Clear the table quickly!"
Twelve dwarfs (excluding Thorin, whose status was too high and he needed to continue talking with Gandalf) immediately sprang up and piled everything high. Without waiting for the trays, they carried the mountain of dishes with their hands, each holding a bottle underneath. Bilbo followed anxiously behind, shouting,
"Please be careful!"
"Thank you, I can do it myself!"
But the dwarfs started singing loudly:
Smash the cups and break the plates!
Sharpen the knives and bend the forks!
This is what Mr. Baggins loves best!
Break the bottles and burn the corks!
Cut the cloth and crack the pans!
And pour the milk on the kitchen floor!
Leave the bones on the bedroom floor!
And spill the drink on every door!
All put away in a big pot stew,
Beat it up with a stick or two,
If there's anything left, roll it to the hall!
Mr. Baggins loves it best!
We must be careful!
Handle these plates with care!
Of course, they didn't do anything as terrible as the lyrics suggested. Everything was cleared and put away in the cabinets lightning-fast. The hobbit was spinning around in the kitchen, trying to figure out what they were doing. Then, the group returned to see Thorin lounging with his feet on the table, leisurely smoking a pipe. His smoke rings were unprecedentedly enormous, and wherever he directed them, they obediently followed. These smoke rings would dart into the chimney, hide in the clock on the mantelpiece, swirl around the ceiling; however, wherever these smoke rings went, they couldn't escape Gandalf's aim. Puff! He would spray smaller smoke rings from his clay pipe, threading them through Thorin's smoke rings, and then Gandalf's smoke rings would turn green, floating back over the wizard's head. His head was now surrounded by many smoke rings, creating a mysterious aura under the dim light. Bilbo stared wide-eyed at the scene before him, for he loved smoke rings; then, he remembered his own amateurish attempt earlier and blushed.
"Some music, please!"
Thorin said,
"Bring out the instruments!"
Oin and Fili immediately ran to their packs and brought back two small harps. Dori, Nori, and Ori pulled flutes from their sleeves. Bombur conjured a drum from the living room, Bifur and Bofur entered carrying several flutes from where they had left their sticks. Dwalin and Balin said,
"Sorry, we left our instruments by the door!"
"Bring mine in too!"
Thorin said. They returned with six-stringed guitars as tall as themselves, and Thorin's lyre was wrapped in cloth. It was a beautiful golden lyre, and as soon as Thorin plucked its strings, sweet music flowed out, making Bilbo forget all his worries, drifting far away to the dark lands below, watching the unfamiliar moonlight beneath, far from the nearby river and hills. The daylight streamed through the window on the side of the hill, and the kettle bubbled softly by the fireplace (it was still April). They kept playing, and Gandalf's beard cast strange shadows on the wall. Darkness enveloped the entire house, the fire gradually burned out, and the shadows slowly faded, but they continued playing, one after another, picking up instruments and singing, their low voices chanting ancient songs of the homeland beneath the earth. Below is part of their song, but without the accompaniment of music, it might not be as moving.
Beyond cold mountains and mists,
To deep cellars and ancient caves,
People must set out before dawn
To seek the beautiful gold hidden there.
In the past, dwarves built grand works,
Hammers struck like bells ringing sweetly,
In the depths, dark creatures slumbered in nests below.
Long ago kings and sturdy races,
Possessed vast gold and jewels,
They forged and captured brilliance,
Even the stars