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- Джон Толкин
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- Хоббит
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- Стр. 7/163
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Pour
the
milk
on
the
pantry
floor
!
Leave
the
bones
on
the
bedroom
mat
!
Splash
the
wine
on
every
door
!
Dump
the
crocks
in
a
boiling
bawl
;
Pound
them
up
with
a
thumping
pole
;
And
when
you
've
finished
,
if
any
are
whole
,
Send
them
down
the
hall
to
roll
!
That
's
what
Bilbo
Baggins
hates
!
So
,
carefully
!
carefully
with
the
plates
!
"
And
of
course
they
did
none
of
these
dreadful
things
,
and
everything
was
cleaned
and
put
away
safe
as
quick
as
lightning
,
while
the
hobbit
was
turning
round
and
round
in
the
middle
of
the
kitchen
trying
to
see
what
they
were
doing
.
Then
they
went
back
,
and
found
Thorin
with
his
feet
on
the
fender
smoking
a
pipe
.
He
was
blowing
the
most
enormous
smoke-rings
,
and
wherever
he
told
one
to
go
,
it
went-up
the
chimney
,
or
behind
the
clock
on
the
man-telpiece
,
or
under
the
table
,
or
round
and
round
the
ceiling
;
but
wherever
it
went
it
was
not
quick
enough
to
escape
Gandalf
.
Pop
!
he
sent
a
smaller
smoke-ring
from
his
short
clay-pipe
straight
through
each
one
of
Thorin
's
.
The
Gandalf
's
smoke-ring
would
go
green
and
come
back
to
hover
over
the
wizard
's
head
.
He
had
quite
a
cloud
of
them
about
him
already
,
and
in
the
dim
light
it
made
him
look
strange
and
sorcerous
.
Bilbo
stood
still
and
watched-he
loved
smoke-rings-and
then
be
blushed
to
think
how
proud
he
had
been
yesterday
morning
of
the
smoke-rings
he
had
sent
up
the
wind
over
The
Hill
.
"
Now
for
some
music
!
"
said
Thorin
.
"
Bring
out
the
instruments
!
"
