Хоббит
On the Doorstep
Theirspiritshadrisenalittleatthediscoveryofthepath,butnowtheysankintotheirboots;andyettheywouldnotgiveitupandgoaway.Thehobbitwasnolongermuchbrighterthanthedwarves.Hewoulddonothingbutsitwithhisbacktotherock-faceandstareawaywestthroughtheopening,overthecliff,overthewidelandstotheblackwallofMirkwood,andtothedistancesbeyond,inwhichhesometimesthoughthecouldcatchglimpsesoftheMistyMountainssmallandfar.Ifthedwarvesaskedhimwhathewasdoingheanswered:
"Yousaidsittingonthedoorstepandthinkingwouldbemyjob,nottomentiongettinginside,soIamsittingandthinking."ButIamafraidhewasnotthinkingmuchofthejob,butofwhatlaybeyondthebluedistance,thequietWesternLandandtheHillandhishobbit-holeunderit.Alargegreystonelayinthecentreofthegrassandhestaredmoodilyatitorwatchedthegreatsnails.Theyseemedtolovethelittleshut-inbaywithitswallsofcoolrock,andthereweremanyofthemofhugesizecrawlingslowlyandstickilyalongitssides.
"TomorrowbeginsthelastweekofAutumn,"saidThorinoneday.
"Andwintercomesafterautumn,"saidBifur.
"Andnextyearafterthat,"saidDwalin,"andourbeardswillgrowtilltheyhangdowntheclifftothevalleybeforeanythinghappenshere.
