The Hobbit

“Farewell Thorin Oakenshield! And Fili and Kili! May your memory never fade!”
    Then the dwarves bowed low before their Gate, but words stuck in their throats. “Good-bye and good luck, wherever you fare!” said Balin at last. “If ever you visit us again, when our halls are made fair once more, then
     the feast shall indeed be splendid!”
    “If ever you are passing my way,” said Bilbo, “don’t wait to knock! Tea is at four; but any of you are welcome at any time!”
    Then he turned away.
    The elf-host was on the march; and if it was sadly lessened, yet many were glad, for now the northern world would be merrier
     for many a long day. The dragon was dead, and the goblins overthrown, and their hearts looked forward after winter to a spring
     of joy.
    Gandalf and Bilbo rode behind the Elvenking, and beside them strode Beorn, once again in man’s shape, and he laughed and sang
     in a loud voice upon the road. So they went on until they drew near to the borders of Mirkwood, to the north of the place
     where the Forest River ran out. Then they halted, for the wizard and Bilbo would not enter the wood, even though the king
     bade them stay a while in his halls. They intended to go along the edge of the forest, and round its northern end in the waste
     that lay between it and the beginning of the Grey Mountains. It was a long and cheerless road, but now that the goblins were
     crushed, it seemed safer to them than the dreadful pathways under the trees. Moreover Beorn was going that way too.
    “Farewell! O Elvenking!” said Gandalf. “Merry be the greenwood, while the world is yet young! And merry be all your folk!”
    “Farewell! O Gandalf!” said the king. “May you ever appear where you are most needed and least expected! The oftener you appear in my halls the better shall I be pleased!”
    “I beg of you,” said Bilbo stammering and standing on one foot, “to accept this gift!” and he brought out a necklace of silver
     and pearls that Dain had given him at their parting.
    “In what way have I earned such a gift, O hobbit?” said the king.
    “Well, er, I thought, don’t you know,” said Bilbo rather confused, “that, er, some little return should be made for your,
     er, hospitality. I mean even a burglar has his feelings. I have drunk much of your wine and eaten much of your bread.”
    “I will take your gift, O Bilbo the Magnificent!” said the king gravely. “And I name you elf-friend and blessed. May your
     shadow never grow less (or stealing would be too easy)! Farewell!”
    Then the elves turned towards the Forest, and Bilbo started on his long road home.
    He had many hardships and adventures before he got back. The Wild was still the Wild, and there were many other things in
     it in those days beside goblins; but he was well guided and well guarded—the wizard was with him, and Beorn for much of the
     way—and he was never in great danger again. Anyway by midwinter Gandalf and Bilbo had come all the way back, along both edges
     of the Forest, to the doors of Beorn’s house; and there for a while they both stayed. Yule-tide was warm and merry there;
     and men came from far and wide to feast at Beorn’s bidding. The goblins of the Misty Mountains were now few and terrified,
     and hidden in the deepest holes they could find; and the Wargs had vanished from the woods, so that men went abroad without fear. Beorn indeed became
     a great chief afterwards in those regions and ruled a wide land between the mountains and the wood; and it is said that for
     many generations the men of his line had the power of taking bear’s shape, and some were grim men and bad, but most were in
     heart like Beorn, if less in size and strength. In their day the last goblins were hunted from the Misty Mountains and a new
     peace came over the edge of the Wild.
    It was spring, and a fair one with mild weathers and a bright sun, before Bilbo and Gandalf took their leave at last of Beorn,
     and though he longed for home, Bilbo left with regret, for the flowers of the gardens of Beorn were in springtime no less
     marvellous than in high summer.
    At last they came up the long road, and reached the very pass where the goblins had captured them before. But they came to
     that high point at morning, and looking backward they saw a white sun shining over the outstretched lands. There behind lay
     Mirkwood, blue in the distance, and darkly green at the nearer edge even in the spring. There far away was the Lonely