The Hobbit

they had been obliged to camp when they could, but at least it had been dry.
    “To think it will soon be June!” grumbled Bilbo, as he splashed along behind the others in a very muddy track. It was after
     tea-time; it was pouring with rain, and had been all day; his hood was dripping into his eyes, his cloak was full of water;
     the pony was tired and stumbled on stones; the others were too grumpy to talk. “And I’m sure the rain has got into the dry
     clothes and into the food-bags,” thought Bilbo. “Bother burgling and everything to do with it! I wish I was at home in my
     nice hole by the fire, with the kettle just beginning to sing!” It was not the last time that he wished that!
    Still the dwarves jogged on, never turning round or taking any notice of the hobbit. Somewhere behind the grey clouds the
     sun must have gone down, for it began to get dark as they went down into a deep valley with a river at the bottom. Wind got
     up, and willows along its banks bent and sighed. Fortunately the road went over an ancient stone bridge, for the river, swollen
     with the rains, came rushing down from the hills and mountains in the north.
    It was nearly night when they had crossed over. The wind broke up the grey clouds, and a wandering moon appeared above the
     hills between the flying rags. Then they stopped, and Thorin muttered something about supper, “and where shall we get a dry
     patch to sleep on?” Not until then did they notice that Gandalf was missing. So far he had come all the way with them, never saying if he was
     in the adventure or merely keeping them company for a while. He had eaten most, talked most, and laughed most. But now he
     simply was not there at all!
    “Just when a wizard would have been most useful, too,” groaned Dori and Nori (who shared the hobbit’s views about regular
     meals, plenty and often).
    They decided in the end that they would have to camp where they were. They moved to a clump of trees, and though it was drier
     under them, the wind shook the rain off the leaves, and the drip, drip, was most annoying. Also the mischief seemed to have
     got into the fire. Dwarves can make a fire almost anywhere out of almost anything, wind or no wind; but they could not do
     it that night, not even Oin and Gloin, who were specially good at it.
    Then one of the ponies took fright at nothing and bolted. He got into the river before they could catch him; and before they
     could get him out again, Fili and Kili were nearly drowned, and all the baggage that he carried was washed away off him. Of
     course it was mostly food, and there was mighty little left for supper, and less for breakfast.
    There they all sat glum and wet and muttering, while Oin and Gloin went on trying to light the fire, and quarrelling about
     it. Bilbo was sadly reflecting that adventures are not all pony-rides in May-sunshine, when Balin, who was always their look-out
     man, said: “There’s a light over there!” There was a hill some way off with trees on it, pretty thick in parts. Out of the
     dark mass of the trees they could now see a light shining, a reddish comfortable-looking light, as it might be a fire or torches twinkling.
    When they had looked at it for some while, they fell to arguing. Some said “no” and some said “yes”. Some said they could
     but go and see, and anything was better than little supper, less breakfast, and wet clothes all the night.
    Others said: “These parts are none too well known, and are too near the mountains. Travellers seldom come this way now. The
     old maps are no use: things have changed for the worse and the road is unguarded. They have seldom even heard of the king
     round here, and the less inquisitive you are as you go along, the less trouble you are likely to find.” Some said: “After
     all there are fourteen of us.” Others said: “Where has Gandalf got to?” This remark was repeated by everybody. Then the rain
     began to pour down worse than ever, and Oin and Gloin began to fight.
    That settled it. “After all we have got a burglar with us,” they said; and so they made off, leading their ponies (with all
     due and proper caution) in the direction of the light. They came to the hill and were soon in the wood. Up the hill they went;
     but there was no proper path to be seen, such as might lead to a house or a farm; and do what they could they made a deal
     of rustling and crackling and creaking (and a good deal of grumbling and dratting), as they