Хоббит

           IshouldnothavelikedtohavebeeninMr.Baggins’place,allthesame.Thetunnelseemedtohavenoend.Allheknewwasthatitwasstillgoingdownprettysteadilyandkeepinginthesamedirectioninspiteofatwistandaturnortwo.Therewerepassagesleadingofftothesideeverynowandthen,asheknewbytheglimmerofhissword,orcouldfeelwithhishandonthewall.Ofthesehetooknonotice,excepttohurrypastforfearofgoblinsorhalf-imagineddarkthingscomingoutofthem.Onandonhewent,anddownanddown;andstillheheardnosoundofanythingexcepttheoccasionalwhirrofabatbyhisears,whichstartledhimatfirst,tillitbecametoofrequenttobotherabout.Idonotknowhowlonghekeptonlikethis,hatingtogoon,notdaringtostop,on,on,untilhewastirederthantired.Itseemedlikeallthewaytotomorrowandoverittothedaysbeyond.Suddenlywithoutanywarninghetrottedsplashintowater!Ugh!itwasicycold.Thatpulledhimupsharpandshort.Hedidnotknowwhetheritwasjustapoolinthepath,ortheedgeofanundergroundstreamthatcrossedthepassage,orthebrinkofadeepdarksubterraneanlake.Theswordwashardlyshiningatall.Hestopped,andhecouldhear,whenhelistenedhard,dropsdrip-drip-drippingfromanunseenroofintothewaterbelow;butthereseemednoothersortofsound.

           "Soitisapooloralake,andnotanundergroundriver,"hethought.Stillhedidnotdaretowadeoutintothedarkness.Hecouldnotswim;andhethought,too,ofnastyslimythings,withbigbulgingblindeyes,wrigglinginthewater.Therearestrangethingslivinginthepoolsandlakesintheheartsofmountains:fishwhosefathersswamin,goodnessonlyknowshowmanyyearsago,andneverswamoutagain,whiletheireyesgrewbiggerandbiggerandbiggerfromtryingtoseeintheblackness;alsothereareotherthingsmoreslimythanfish.Eveninthetunnelsandcavesthegoblinshavemadeforthemselvesthereareotherthingslivingunbeknowntothemthathavesneakedinfromoutsidetolieupinthedark.