Хоббит
Not at Home
Skullsandboneswereupontheflooramongflagonsandbowlsandbrokendrinking-hornsanddust.Astheycamethroughyetmoredoorsatthefurtherend,asoundofwaterfellupontheirears,andthegreylightgrewsuddenlymorefull."ThereisthebirthoftheRunningRiver,"saidThorin."FromhereithastenstotheGate.Letusfollowit!"
Outofadarkopeninginawallofrockthereissuedaboilingwater,anditflowedswirlinginanarrowchannel,carvedandmadestraightanddeepbythecunningofancienthands.Besideitranastone-pavedroad,wideenoughformanymenabreast.Swiftlyalongthistheyran,androundawide-sweepingturn-andbehold!beforethemstoodthebroadlightofday.Infrontthereroseatallarch,stillshowingthefragmentsofoldcarvenworkwithin,wornandsplinteredandblackenedthoughitwas.AmistysunsentitspalelightbetweenthearmsoftheMountain,andbeamsofgoldfellonthepavementatthethreshold.
Awhirlofbatsfrightenedfromslumberbytheirsmokingtorchesflurriedoverthem;astheysprangforwardtheirfeetslitheredonstonesrubbedsmoothandslimedbythepassingofthedragon.Nowbeforethemthewaterfellnoisilyoutwardandfoameddowntowardsthevalley.Theyflungtheirpaletorchestotheground,andstoodgazingoutwithdazzledeyes.TheywerecometotheFrontGate,andwerelookingoutuponDale.
"Well!"saidBilbo,"Ineverexpectedtobelookingoutofthisdoor.AndIneverexpectedtobesopleasedtoseethesunagain,andtofeelthewindonmyface.But,ow!thiswindiscold!"
Itwas.
