-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Джон Толкин
-
- Хоббит
-
- Стр. 104/163
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
All
he
knew
was
that
the
river
seemed
to
go
on
and
on
and
on
for
ever
,
and
he
was
hungry
,
and
had
a
nasty
cold
in
the
nose
,
and
did
not
like
the
way
the
Mountain
seemed
to
frown
at
him
and
threaten
him
as
it
drew
ever
nearer
.
After
a
while
,
however
,
the
river
took
a
more
southerly
course
and
the
Mountain
receded
again
,
and
at
last
,
late
in
the
day
the
shores
grew
rocky
,
the
river
gathered
all
its
wandering
waters
together
into
a
deep
and
rapid
flood
,
and
they
swept
along
at
great
speed
.
The
sun
had
set
when
turning
with
another
sweep
towards
the
East
the
forest-river
rushed
into
the
Long
Lake
.
There
it
had
a
wide
mouth
with
stony
clifflike
gates
at
either
side
whose
feet
were
piled
with
shingles
.
The
Long
Lake
!
Bilbo
had
never
imagined
that
any
water
that
was
not
the
sea
could
look
so
big
.
It
was
so
wide
that
the
opposite
shores
looked
small
and
far
,
but
it
was
so
long
that
its
northerly
end
,
which
pointed
towards
the
Mountain
,
could
not
be
seen
at
all
.
Only
from
the
map
did
Bilbo
know
that
away
up
there
,
where
the
stars
of
the
Wain
were
already
twinkling
,
the
Running
River
came
down
into
the
lake
from
Dale
and
with
the
Forest
River
filled
with
deep
waters
what
must
once
have
been
a
great
deep
rocky
valley
.
At
the
southern
end
the
doubled
waters
poured
out
again
over
high
waterfalls
and
ran
away
hurriedly
to
unknown
lands
.
In
the
still
evening
air
the
noise
of
the
falls
could
be
heard
like
a
distant
roar
.
Not
far
from
the
mouth
of
the
Forest
River
was
the
strange
town
he
heard
the
elves
speak
of
in
the
king
's
cellars
.
It
was
not
built
on
the
shore
,
though
there
were
a
few
huts
and
buildings
there
,
but
right
out
on
the
surface
of
the
lake
,
protected
from
the
swirl
of
the
entering
river
by
a
promontory
of
rock
which
formed
a
calm
bay
.
A
great
.
bridge
made
of
wood
ran
out
to
where
on
huge
piles
made
of
forest
trees
was
built
a
busy
wooden
town
,
not
a
town
of
elves
but
of
Men
,
who
still
dared
to
dwell
here
under
the
shadow
of
the
distant
dragon-mountain
.
They
still
throve
on
the
trade
that
came
up
the
great
river
from
the
South
and
was
carted
past
the
falls
to
their
town
;
but
in
the
great
days
of
old
,
when
Dale
in
the
North
was
rich
and
prosperous
,
they
had
been
wealthy
and
powerful
,
and
there
had
been
fleets
of
boats
on
the
waters
,
and
some
were
filled
with
gold
and
some
with
warriors
in
armour
,
and
there
had
been
wars
and
deeds
which
were
now
only
a
legend
.
The
rotting
piles
of
a
greater
town
could
still
be
seen
along
the
shores
when
the
waters
sank
in
a
drought
.
But
men
remembered
little
of
all
that
,
though
some
still
sang
old
songs
of
the
dwarf-kings
of
the
Mountain
,
Thror
and
Thrain
of
the
race
of
Durin
,
and
of
the
coming
of
the
Dragon
,
and
the
fall
of
the
lords
of
Dale
.
Some
sang
too
that
Thror
and
Thrain
would
come
back
one
day
and
gold
would
flow
in
rivers
through
the
mountain-gates
,
and
all
that
land
would
be
filled
with
new
song
and
new
laughter
.
But
this
pleasant
legend
did
not
much
affect
their
daily
business
.
As
soon
as
the
raft
of
barrels
came
in
sight
boats
rowed
out
from
the
piles
of
the
town
,
and
voices
hailed
the
raft-steerers
.
Then
ropes
were
cast
and
oars
were
pulled
,
and
soon
the
raft
was
drawn
out
of
the
current
of
the
Forest
River
and
towed
away
round
the
high
shoulder
of
rock
into
the
little
bay
of
Lake-town
.
There
it
was
moored
not
far
from
the
shoreward
head
of
the
great
bridge
.
Soon
men
would
come
up
from
the
South
and
take
some
of
the
casks
away
,
and
others
they
would
fill
with
goods
they
had
brought
to
be
taken
back
up
the
stream
to
the
Wood-elves
'
home
.
In
the
meanwhile
the
barrels
were
left
afloat
while
the
elves
of
the
raft
and
the
boatmen
went
to
feast
in
Lake-town
.
They
would
have
been
surprised
,
if
they
could
have
seen
what
happened
down
by
the
shore
,
after
they
had
gone
and
the
shades
of
night
had
fallen
.
First
of
all
a
barrel
was
cut
loose
by
Bilbo
and
pushed
to
the
shore
and
opened
.
Groans
came
from
inside
,
and
out
crept
a
most
unhappy
dwarf
.
Wet
straw
was
in
his
draggled
beard
;
he
was
so
sore
and
stiff
,
so
bruised
and
buffeted
he
could
hardly
stand
or
stumble
through
the
shallow
water
to
lie
groaning
on
the
shore
.
He
had
a
famished
and
a
savage
look
like
a
dog
that
has
been
chained
and
forgotten
in
a
kennel
for
a
week
.
It
was
Thorin
,
but
you
could
only
have
told
it
by
his
golden
chain
,
and
by
the
colour
of
his
now
dirty
and
tattered
sky-blue
hood
with
its
tarnished
silver
tassel
.
It
was
some
time
before
he
would
be
even
polite
to
the
hobbit
.
"
Well
,
are
you
alive
or
are
you
dead
?
"
asked
Bilbo
quite
crossly
.
Perhaps
he
had
forgotten
that
he
had
had
at
least
one
good
meal
more
than
the
dwarves
,
and
also
the
use
of
his
arms
and
legs
,
not
to
speak
of
a
greater
allowance
of
air
.
"
Are
you
still
in
prison
,
or
are
you
free
?
If
you
want
food
,
and
if
you
want
to
go
on
with
this
silly
adventure
-
it
's
yours
after
all
and
not
mine-you
had
better
slap
your
arms
and
rub
your
legs
and
try
and
help
me
get
the
others
out
while
there
is
a
chance
!
"
