The Hobbit Page #5

This is war! War!

Our lookout has found something!

Oh, great King under the Mountain!

- Balin, it's only Thorin!

- Quiet!

- Yes, general?

- "General"?

Another army approaches from the north-east!

An army of our kind. An army of dwarves!

- My cousin Dain from the Iron Hills?

- Non other!

Ha! Now, we are not outnumbered!

Now we have an army!

- A battle of three armies?

- To war!

Onward!

Forward!

To battle!

- scurvy dwarves!

- Thieving dwarves!

Kill them!

- Chop them!

- Take their heads!

Kill the men! Kill the elves!

Save the gold for ourselves!

Personally, I would be back in Hobbiton.

- Who's that old man?

- Get out of the way!

- Move, you old fool!

Old fool?

Gandalf!

Halt!

I would speak with the kings!

Dread has come upon you all!

An army of goblins with claim

to the treasure comes from the north!

Behold!

They ride on wolves!

Oh, great Elf King, my truest friend and ally.

We must join our forces

against this common scourge.

But of course, oh noble

King under the Mountain.

Your people are like brothers onto mine.

And my men and all their weapons

are as one with yours.

Together we will vanquish the foul foe!

Together!

Thorin is correct.

I simply do not understand war.

A battle of four armies.

One, two, three... yes, four!

Our cause is hopeless!

The goblins are too powerful!

But we'll spill much of their blood

before the day has finished.

If these be our last moments, men,

let us live them with honour.

Hold! All is not lost.

The goblins have many enemies.

There is yet still another army on the way.

The eagles!

Five armies now?

Mr. Bilbo Baggins, enough is enough.

Bombur! You're hurt!

I still live. And you?

A slight wound. Crack on the head.

Out for hours. What happened?

We won.

Bombur gone, too?

Of our original thirteen, how many are left?

Seven.

And Thorin?

Soon will be only six.

I have brought him.

Farewell, good thief.

I wish to part in friendship...

... and would take back

my words at the Gate.

There are many words I would take back also.

And does it take this...

... to make us each other?

- Thorin!

- Hush!

You are no covard, my friend.

I am sorry I so named you.

- This is not important...

- And I was wrong.

You did understand war.

It was I who did not.

Until now.

Farewell, King under the Mountain.

Child of the kindly west.

I have come to know...

... If more of us valued your ways,...

... food and cheer above hoarded gold,...

... it would be a merrier world.

But sad or merry...

... I must leave it now.

- Farewell.

- Farewell, Thorin.

You take only two tiny bags of gold

home with you?

Your share was greater.

It's all my pony could carry,

and it's more than I'll ever need.

But you have other prizes.

The ring? Oh, yes.

I'll keep it as a souvenir

in a glass box, on the mantel.

And so, the prophecies of all

have come true.

Smaug is gone and the goblins driven away.

The dwarves and elves live in peace...

... and the men thrive,

multiply and build a civilization.

Prophecies!

- What?

- I had a hand in all that!

Surely you don't disbelieve the prophecies

because you helped bring them about?

You don't really suppose, do you,...

... that all your adventures and

escapes were managed by mere luck...

... just for your sole benefit?

You're a very fine person, Mr. Baggins.

And I'm very fond of you...

... but you're only quite a little

fellow in a wide world, after all.

Thank goodness!

Yes, you'll returned your home...

... place your souvenir ring

on your mantel...

... publish your story, which

you believe has come to its end...

What dod you mean:

"believe it has come to an end"?

It has, hasn't it?

Oh, Bilbo Baggins,

if you really understood that ring...

... - but someday members of

your family not yet born will - ...

... then you'd realize

that this story has not ended...

... but is only beginning.

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