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Full
on
the
town
he
fell
.
His
last
throes
splintered
it
to
sparks
and
gledes
.
The
lake
roared
in
.
A
vast
steam
leaped
up
,
white
in
the
sudden
dark
under
the
moon
.
There
was
a
hiss
,
a
gushing
whirl
,
and
then
silence
.
And
that
was
the
end
of
Smaug
and
Esgaroth
,
but
not
of
Bard
.
The
waxing
moon
rose
higher
and
higher
and
the
wind
grew
loud
and
cold
.
It
twisted
the
white
fog
into
bending
pillars
and
hurrying
clouds
and
drove
it
off
to
the
West
to
scatter
in
tattered
shreds
over
the
marshes
before
Mirkwood
.
Then
the
many
boats
could
be
seen
dotted
dark
on
the
surface
of
the
lake
,
and
down
the
wind
came
the
voices
of
the
people
of
Esgaroth
lamenting
their
lost
town
and
goods
and
ruined
houses
.
But
they
had
really
much
to
be
thankful
for
,
had
they
thought
of
it
,
though
it
could
hardly
be
expected
that
they
should
just
then
:
three
quarters
of
the
people
of
the
town
had
at
least
escaped
alive
;
their
woods
and
fields
and
pastures
and
cattle
and
most
of
their
boats
remained
undamaged
;
and
the
dragon
was
dead
.
What
that
meant
they
had
not
yet
realized
.
They
gathered
in
mournful
crowds
upon
the
western
shores
,
shivering
in
the
cold
wind
,
and
their
first
complaints
and
anger
were
against
the
Master
,
who
had
left
the
town
so
soon
,
while
some
were
still
willing
to
defend
it
.
"
He
may
have
a
good
head
for
business-especially
his
own
business
,
"
some
murmured
,
"
but
he
is
no
good
when
anything
serious
happens
!
"
And
they
praised
the
courage
of
Bard
and
his
last
mighty
shot
.
"
If
only
he
had
not
been
killed
,
"
they
all
said
,
"
we
would
make
him
a
king
.
Bard
the
Dragon-shooter
of
the
line
of
Girion
!
Alas
that
he
is
lost
!
"
And
in
the
very
midst
of
their
talk
,
a
tall
figure
stepped
from
the
shadows
.
He
was
drenched
with
water
,
his
black
hair
hung
wet
over
his
face
and
shoulders
,
and
a
fierce
light
was
in
his
eyes
.
"
Bard
is
not
lost
!
"
he
cried
.
"
He
dived
from
Esgaroth
,
when
the
enemy
was
slain
.
I
am
Bard
,
of
the
line
of
Girion
;
I
am
the
slayer
of
the
dragon
!
"
"
King
Bard
!
King
Bard
!
"
they
shouted
;
but
the
Master
ground
his
chattering
teeth
.
"
Girion
was
lord
of
Dale
,
not
king
of
Esgaroth
,
"
he
said
.
"
In
the
Lake-town
we
have
always
elected
masters
from
among
the
old
and
wise
,
and
have
not
endured
the
rule
of
mere
fighting
men
.
Let
'
King
Bard
'
go
back
to
his
own
kingdom-Dale
is
now
freed
by
his
valour
,
and
nothing
binders
his
return
.
And
any
that
wish
can
go
with
him
,
if
they
prefer
the
cold
shores
under
the
shadow
of
the
Mountain
to
the
green
shores
of
the
lake
.
The
wise
will
stay
here
and
hope
to
rebuild
our
town
,
and
enjoy
again
in
time
its
peace
and
riches
.
"
"
We
will
have
King
Bard
!
"
the
people
near
at
hand
shouted
in
reply
.
"
We
have
had
enough
of
the
old
men
and
the
money-counters
!
"
And
people
further
off
took
up
the
cry
:
"
Up
the
Bowman
,
and
down
with
Moneybags
,
"
till
the
clamour
echoed
along
the
shore
.
"
I
am
the
last
man
to
undervalue
Bard
the
Bowman
,
"
said
the
Master
warily
(
for
Bard
now
stood
close
beside
him
)
.
"
He
has
tonight
earned
an
eminent
place
in
the
roll
of
the
benefactors
of
our
town
;
and
he
is
worthy
of
many
imperishable
songs
.
But
,
why
O
People
?
"
-
and
here
the
Master
rose
to
his
feet
and
spoke
very
loud
and
clear
-
"
why
do
I
get
all
your
blame
?
For
what
fault
am
I
to
be
deposed
?
Who
aroused
the
dragon
from
his
slumber
,
I
might
ask
?
Who
obtained
of
us
rich
gifts
and
ample
help
,
and
led
us
to
believe
that
old
songs
could
come
true
?
Who
played
on
our
soft
hearts
and
our
pleasant
fancies
?
What
sort
of
gold
have
they
sent
down
the
river
to
reward
us
?
Dragon-fire
and
ruin
!
From
whom
should
we
claim
the
recompense
of
our
damage
,
and
aid
for
our
widows
and
orphans
?
"
As
you
see
,
the
Master
had
not
got
his
position
for
nothing
.
The
result
of
his
words
was
that
for
the
moment
the
people
quite
forgot
their
idea
of
a
new
king
,
and
turned
their
angry
thoughts
towards
Thorin
and
his
company
.
Wild
and
bitter
words
were
shouted
from
many
sides
;
and
some
of
those
who
had
before
sung
the
old
songs
loudest
,
were
now
heard
as
loudly
crying
that
the
dwarves
had
stirred
the
dragon
up
against
them
deliberately
!
"
Fools
!
"
said
Bard
.
"
Why
waste
words
and
wrath
on
those
unhappy
creatures
?
Doubtless
they
perished
first
in
fire
,
before
Smaug
came
to
us
.
"
Then
even
as
he
was
speaking
,
the
thought
came
into
his
heart
of
the
fabled
treasure
of
the
Mountain
lying
without
guard
or
owner
,
and
he
fell
suddenly
silent
.
He
thought
of
the
Master
's
words
,
and
of
Dale
rebuilt
,
and
filled
with
golden
bells
,
if
he
could
but
find
the
men
.
At
length
he
spoke
again
:
"
This
is
no
time
for
angry
words
.
Master
,
or
for
considering
weighty
plans
of
change
.
There
is
work
to
do
.
