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Amid
shrieks
and
wailing
and
the
shouts
of
men
he
came
over
them
,
swept
towards
the
bridges
and
was
foiled
!
The
bridge
was
gone
,
and
his
enemies
were
on
an
island
in
deep
water-too
deep
and
dark
and
cool
for
his
liking
.
If
he
plunged
into
it
,
a
vapour
and
a
steam
would
arise
enough
to
cover
all
the
land
with
a
mist
for
days
;
but
the
lake
was
mightier
than
he
,
it
would
quench
him
before
he
could
pass
through
.
Roaring
he
swept
back
over
the
town
.
A
hail
of
dark
arrows
leaped
up
and
snapped
and
rattled
on
his
scales
and
jewels
,
and
their
shafts
fell
back
kindled
by
his
breath
burning
and
hissing
into
the
lake
.
No
fireworks
you
ever
imagined
equalled
the
sights
that
night
.
At
the
twanging
of
the
bows
and
the
shrilling
of
the
trumpets
the
dragon
's
wrath
blazed
to
its
height
,
till
he
was
blind
and
mad
with
it
.
No
one
had
dared
to
give
battle
to
him
for
many
an
age
;
nor
would
they
have
dared
now
,
if
it
had
not
been
for
the
grim-voiced
man
(
Bard
was
his
name
)
,
who
ran
to
and
fro
cheering
on
the
archers
and
urging
the
Master
to
order
them
to
fight
to
the
last
arrow
.
Fire
leaped
from
the
dragon
's
jaws
.
He
circled
for
a
while
high
in
the
air
above
them
lighting
all
the
lake
;
the
trees
by
the
shores
shone
like
copper
and
like
blood
with
leaping
shadows
of
dense
black
at
their
feet
.
Then
down
he
swooped
straight
through
the
arrow-storm
,
reckless
in
his
rage
,
taking
no
heed
to
turn
his
scaly
sides
towards
his
foes
,
seeking
only
to
set
their
town
ablaze
.
Fire
leaped
from
thatched
roofs
and
wooden
beam-ends
as
he
hurtled
down
and
past
and
round
again
,
though
all
had
been
drenched
with
water
before
he
came
.
Once
more
water
was
flung
by
a
hundred
hands
wherever
a
spark
appeared
.
Back
swirled
the
dragon
.
A
sweep
of
his
tail
and
the
roof
of
the
Great
House
crumbled
and
smashed
down
.
Flames
unquenchable
sprang
high
into
the
night
.
Another
swoop
and
another
,
and
another
house
and
then
another
sprang
afire
and
fell
;
and
still
no
arrow
hindered
Smaug
or
hurt
him
more
than
a
fly
from
the
marshes
.
Already
men
were
jumping
into
the
water
on
every
side
.
Women
and
children
were
being
huddled
into
laden
boats
in
the
market-pool
.
Weapons
were
flung
down
.
There
was
mourning
and
weeping
,
where
but
a
little
time
ago
the
old
songs
of
mirth
to
come
had
been
sung
about
the
dwarves
.
Now
men
cursed
their
names
.
The
Master
himself
was
turning
to
his
great
gilded
boat
,
hoping
to
row
away
in
the
confusion
and
save
himself
.
Soon
all
the
town
would
be
deserted
and
burned
down
to
the
surface
of
the
lake
.
That
was
the
dragon
's
hope
.
They
could
all
get
into
boats
for
all
he
cared
.
There
he
could
have
fine
sport
hunting
them
,
or
they
could
stop
till
they
starved
.
Let
them
try
to
get
to
land
and
he
would
be
ready
.
Soon
he
would
set
all
the
shoreland
woods
ablaze
and
wither
every
field
and
pasture
.
Just
now
he
was
enjoying
the
sport
of
town-baiting
more
than
he
had
enjoyed
anything
for
years
.
But
there
was
still
a
company
of
archers
that
held
their
ground
among
the
burning
houses
.
Their
captain
was
Bard
,
grim-voiced
and
grim-faced
,
whose
friends
had
accused
him
of
prophesying
floods
and
poisoned
fish
,
though
they
knew
his
worth
and
courage
.
He
was
a
descendant
in
long
line
of
Girion
,
Lord
of
Dale
,
whose
wife
and
child
had
escaped
down
the
Running
River
from
the
ruin
long
ago
.
Now
he
shot
with
a
great
yew
bow
,
till
all
his
arrows
but
one
were
spent
.
The
flames
were
near
him
.
His
companions
were
leaving
him
.
He
bent
his
bow
for
the
last
time
.
Suddenly
out
of
the
dark
something
fluttered
to
his
shoulder
.
He
started-but
it
was
only
an
old
thrush
.
Unafraid
it
perched
by
his
ear
and
it
brought
him
news
.
Marvelling
he
found
he
could
understand
its
tongue
,
for
he
was
of
the
race
of
Dale
.
"
Wait
!
Wait
!
"
it
said
to
him
.
"
The
moon
is
rising
.
Look
for
the
hollow
of
the
left
breast
as
he
flies
and
turns
above
you
!
"
And
while
Bard
paused
in
wonder
it
told
him
of
tidings
up
in
the
Mountain
and
of
all
that
it
had
heard
.
Then
Bard
drew
his
bow-string
to
his
ear
.
The
dragon
was
circling
back
,
flying
low
,
and
as
he
came
the
moon
rose
above
the
eastern
shore
and
silvered
his
great
wings
.
"
Arrow
!
"
said
the
bowman
.
"
Black
arrow
!
I
have
saved
you
to
the
last
.
You
have
never
failed
me
and
always
I
have
recovered
you
.
I
had
you
from
my
father
and
he
from
of
old
.
If
ever
you
came
from
the
forges
of
the
true
king
under
the
Mountain
,
go
now
and
speed
well
!
"
The
dragon
swooped
once
more
lower
than
ever
,
and
as
he
turned
and
dived
down
his
belly
glittered
white
with
sparkling
fires
of
gems
in
the
moon-but
not
in
one
place
.
The
great
bow
twanged
.
The
black
arrow
sped
straight
from
the
string
,
straight
for
the
hollow
by
the
left
breast
where
the
foreleg
was
flung
wide
.
In
it
smote
and
vanished
,
barb
,
shaft
and
feather
,
so
fierce
was
its
flight
.
With
a
shriek
that
deafened
men
,
felled
trees
and
split
stone
,
Smaug
shot
spouting
into
the
air
,
turned
over
and
crashed
down
from
on
high
in
ruin
.
