The Hobbit

Chapter 19

The Last Stage

It was on May the First that the two came back at last to the brink of the valley of Rivendell, where stood the Last (or the First) Homely House.

Again it was evening, their ponies were tired, especially the one that carried the baggage; and they all felt in need of rest. As they rode down the steep path, Bilbo heard the elves still singing in the trees, as if they had not stopped since he left; and as soon as their riders came down into the lower glades of the wood they burst into a song of much the same kind as before.

This is something like it:

“The dragon is withered,

His bones are now crumbled;

His armour is shivered,

His splendour is humbled!

Though sword shall be rusted,

And throne and crown perish

With strength that men trusted

And wealth that they cherish,

Here grass is still growing,

And leaves are yet swinging,

The white water flowing,

And elves are yet singing

Come! Tra-la-la-lally!

Come back to the valley!

The stars are far brighter

Than gems without measure,

The moon is far whiter

Than silver in treasure:

The fire is more shining

On hearth in the gloaming

Than gold won by mining,

So why go a-roaming?

O! Tra-la-la-lally

Come back to the Valley.

O! Where are you going,

So late in returning?

The river is flowing,

The stars are all burning!

O! Whither so laden,

So sad and so dreary?

Here elf and elf-maiden

Now welcome the weary

With Tra-la-la-lally

Come back to the Valley,

Tra-la-la-lally

Fa-la-la-lally

Fa-la!”

Then the elves of the valley came out and greeted them and led them across the water to the house of Elrond. There a warm welcome was made them, and there were many eager ears that evening to hear the tale of their adventures. Gandalf it was who spoke, for Bilbo was fallen quiet and drowsy. Most of the tale he knew, for he had been in it, and had himself told much of it to the wizard on their homeward way or in the house of Beorn; but every now and again he would open one eye, and listen, when a part of the story which he did not yet know came in. It was in this way that he learned where Gandalf had been to; for he overheard the words of the wizard to Elrond. It appeared that Gandalf had been to a great council of the white wizards, masters of lore and good magic; and that they had at last driven the Necromancer from his dark hold in the south of Mirkwood.

“Ere long now,” Gandalf was saying, “The Forest will grow somewhat more wholesome. The North will be freed from that horror for many long years, I hope. Yet I wish he were banished from the world!”

“It would be well indeed,” said Elrond; “but I fear that will not come about in this age of the world, or for many after.”

When the tale of their joumeyings was told, there were other tales, and yet more tales, tales of long ago, and tales. of new things, and tales of no time at all, till Bilbo’s head fell forward on his chest, and he snored comfortably in a corner.

He woke to find himself in a white bed, and the moon shining through an open window. Below it many elves were singing loud and clear on the banks of the stream.

“Sing all ye joyful, now sing all together?

The wind’s in the free-top, the wind’s in the heather;

The stars are in blossom, the moon is in flower,

And bright are the windows of Night in her tower.

Dance all ye joyful, now dance all together!

Soft is the grass, and let foot be like feather!

The river is silver, the shadows are fleeting;

Merry is May-time, and merry our meeting.

Sing we now softly, and dreams let us weave him!

Wind him in slumber and there let us leave him!

The wanderer sleepeth. Now soft be his pillow!

Lullaby! Lullaby! Alder and Willow!

Sigh no more Pine, till the wind of the morn!

Fall Moon! Dark be the land!

Hush! Hush! Oak, Ash, and Thorn!

Hushed be all water, till dawn is at hand!”

“Well, Merry People!” said Bilbo looking out. “What time by the moon is this? Your lullaby would waken a drunken goblin! Yet I thank you.” “And your snores would waken a stone dragon — yet we thank you,” they answered with laughter. “It is drawing towards dawn, and you have slept now since the night’s begi

“A little sleep does a great cure in the house of Elrond,” said he; “but I will take all the cure I can get. A second good night, fair friends!” And with that he went back to bed and slept till late morning. Weariness fell from him soon in that house, and he had many a merry jest and dance, early and late, with the elves of the valley. Yet even that place could not long delay him now, and he thought always of his own home. After a week, therefore, he said farewell to Elrond, and giving him such small gifts as he would accept, he rode away with Gandalf. Even as they left the valley the sky darkened in the West before them, and wind and rain came up to meet them.

“Merry is May-time!” said Bilbo, as the rain beat into his face. “But our back is to legends and we are coming home. I suppose this is a first taste of it.”

“There is a long road yet,” said Gandalf.

“But it is the last road,” said Bilbo. They came to the river that marked the very edge of the borderland of the Wild, and to the ford beneath the steep bank, which you may remember. The water was swollen both with the melting of the snows at the approach of summer, and with the daylong rain; but they crossed with some difficulty, and pressed forward, as evening fell, on the last stage of their journey. This was much as it had been before, except that the company was smaller, and more silent; also this time there were no trolls. At each point on the road Bilbo recalled the happenings and the words of a year ago-it seemed to him more like ten-so that, of course, he quickly noted the place where the pony had fallen in the river, and they had turned aside for their nasty adventure with Tom and Bert and Bill. Not far from the road they found the gold of the trolls, which they had buried, still hidden and untouched. “I have enough to last me my time,” said Bilbo, when they had dug it up. “You had better take this, Gandalf. I daresay you can find a use for it.”

“Indeed I can!” said the wizard. “But share and share alike! You may find you have more needs than you expect.”

So they put the gold in bags and slung them on the ponies, who were not at all pleased about it. After that their going was slower, for most of the time they walked. But the land was green and there was much grass through which the hobbit strolled along contentedly. He mopped his face with a red silk handkerchief-no! not a single one of his own had survived, he had borrowed this one from Elrond -for now June had brought summer, and the weather was bright and hot again.

As all things come to an end, even this story, a day came at last when they were in sight of the country where Bilbo had been born and bred, where the shapes of the land and of the trees were as well known to him as his hands and toes. Coming to a rise he could see his own Hill in the distance, and he stopped suddenly and said:

“Roads go ever ever on,

Over rock and under tree,

By caves where never sun has shone,

By streams that never find the sea;

Over snow by winter sown,

And through the merry flowers of June,

Over grass and over stone,

And under mountains in the moon.

Roads go ever ever on

Under cloud and under star,

Yet feet that wandering have gone

Turn at last to home afar.

Eyes that fire and sword have seen

And horror in the halls of stone