Flies and Spiders

           Theywalkedinsinglefile.Theentrancetothepathwaslikeasortofarchleadingintoagloomytunnelmadebytwogreattreesthatleanttogether,toooldandstrangledwithivyandhungwithlichentobearmorethanafewblackenedleaves.Thepathitselfwasnarrowandwoundinandoutamongthetrunks.Soonthelightatthegatewaslikealittlebrightholefarbehind,andthequietwassodeepthattheirfeetseemedtothumpalongwhileallthetreesleanedoverthemandlistened.Asthefteyesbecameusedtothedimnesstheycouldseealittlewaytoeithersideinasortofdarkenedgreenglimmer.Occasionallyaslenderbeamofsunthathadthelucktoslipinthroughsomeopeningintheleavesfarabove,andstillmoreluckinnotbeingcaughtinthetangledboughsandmattedtwigsbeneath,stabbeddownthinandbrightbeforethem.Butthiswasseldom,anditsoonceasedaltogether.Therewereblacksquirrelsinthewood.AsBilbo’ssharpinquisitiveeyesgotusedtoseeingthingshecouldcatchglimpsesofthemwhiskingoffthepathandscuttlingbehindtree-trunks.Therewerequeernoisestoo,grunts,scufflings,andhurryingsintheundergrowth,andamongtheleavesthatlaypiledendlesslythickinplacesontheforest-floor;butwhatmadethenoiseshecouldnotsee.Thenastiestthingstheysawwerethecobwebs:darkdensecobwebswiththreadsextraordinarilythick,oftenstretchedfromtreetotree,ortangledinthelowerbranchesoneithersideofthem.Therewerenonestretchedacrossthepath,butwhetherbecausesomemagickeptitclear,orforwhatotherreasontheycouldnotguess.

           Itwasnotlongbeforetheygrewtohatetheforestasheartilyastheyhadhatedthetunnelsofthegoblins,anditseemedtoofferevenlesshopeofanyending.Buttheyhadtogoonandon,longaftertheyweresickforasightofthesunandofthesky,andlongedforthefeelofwindontheirfaces.Therewasnomovementofairdownundertheforest-roof,anditwaseverlastinglystillanddarkandstuffy.