THE LAST STAGE
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Come! Tra-la-la-lally!
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It was on May the First that the two came back at last to the brink of the valley of Rivendell, where stood the Last (or the First) Homely House. Again it was evening, their ponies were tired, especially the one that carried the baggage; and they all felt in need of rest. As they rode down the steep path, Bilbo heard the elves still singing in the trees, as if they had not stopped since he left; and as soon as the riders came down into the lower glades of the wood they burst into a song of much the same kind as before. This is something like it:
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The white water flowing,
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And throne and crown perish
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With strength that men trusted
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Come back to the valley!
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His bones are now crumbled;
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And wealth that they cherish,
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Though sword shall be rusted,
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His armour is shivered,
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And elves are yet singing
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His splendour is humbled!
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Here grass is still growing,
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And leaves are yet swinging,
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The moon is far whiter
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The dragon is withered,
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Than gems without measure,
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The stars are far brighter
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Now welcome the weary
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Here elf and elf-maiden
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With Tra-la-la-lally
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Come back to the Valley,
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O! Where are you going,
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So sad and so dreary?
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Then the elves of the valley came out and greeted them and led them across the water to the house of Elrond. There a warm welcome was made them, and there were many eager ears that evening to hear the tale of their adventures. Gandalf it was who spoke, for Bilbo was fallen quiet and drowsy. Most of the tale he knew, for he had been in it, and had himself told much of it to the wizard on their homeward way or in the house of Beorn; but every now and again he would open one eye, and listen, when a part of the story which he did not yet know came in.
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So late in returning?
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Than gold won by mining,
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Fa-la!
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It was in this way that he learned where Gandalf had been to; for he overheard the words of the wizard to Elrond. It appeared that Gandalf had been to a great council of the white wizards, masters of lore and good magic; and that they had at last driven the Necromancer from his dark hold in the south of Mirkwood.
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Than silver in treasure;
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The stars are all burning!
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The fire is more shining
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Come back to the Valley.
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The river is flowing,
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On hearth in the gloaming
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Tra-la-la-lally
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So why go a-roaming?
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Fa-la-la-lally
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O! Whither so laden,
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O! Tra-la-la-lally
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"It would be well indeed," said Elrond; "but I fear that will not come about in this age of the world, or for many after."
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"Ere long now," Gandalf was saying, "the Forest will grow somewhat more wholesome. The North will be freed from that horror for many long years, I hope. Yet I wish he were banished from the world!"
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When the tale of their journeyings was told, there were other tales, and yet more tales, tales of long ago, and tales of new things, and tales of no time at all, till Bilbo's head fell forward on his chest, and he snored comfortably in a corner.
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He woke to find himself in a white bed, and the moon shining through an open window. Below it many elves were singing loud and clear on the banks of the stream.
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Sing all ye joyful, now sing all together!
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The stars are in blossom, the moon is in flower,
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Dance all ye joyful, now dance all together!
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The wind's in the tree-top, the wind's in the heather;
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Soft is the grass, and let foot be like feather!
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And bright are the windows of Night in her tower.
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Wind him in slumber and there let us leave him!
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The river is silver, the shadows are fleeting;
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"A little sleep does a great cure in the house of Elrond," said he; "but I will take all the cure I can get. A second good night, fair friends!" And with that he went back to bed and slept till late morning.
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Lullaby! Alder and Willow!
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The wanderer sleepeth. Now soft be his pillow! Lullaby!
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"Well, Merry People!" said Bilbo looking out. "What time by the moon is this? Your lullaby would waken a drunken goblin! Yet I thank you."
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Merry is May-time, and merry our meeting.
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Fall Moon! Dark be the land!
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Hush! Hush! Oak, Ash, and Thorn!
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Sigh no more Pine, till the wind of the morn!
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Sing we now softly, and dreams let us weave him!
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Hushed be all water, till dawn is at hand!
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"And your snores would waken a stone dragon-yet we thank you," they answered with laughter. "It is drawing towards dawn, and you have slept now since the night's beginning. Tomorrow, perhaps, you will be cured of weariness."
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Weariness fell from him soon in that house, and he had many a merry jest and dance, early and late, with the elves of the valley. Yet even that place could not long delay him now, and he thought always of his own home. After a week, therefore, he said farewell to Elrond, and giving him such small gifts as he would accept, he rode away with Gandalf.
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"Merry is May-time!" said Bilbo, as the rain beat into his face. "But our back is to legends and we are coming home. I suppose this is the first taste of it."
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Even as they left the valley the sky darkened in the West before them, and wind and rain came up to meet them.
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"But it is the last road," said Bilbo.
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This was much as it had been before, except that the company was smaller, and more silent; also this time there were no trolls. At each point on the road Bilbo recalled the happenings and the words of a year ago-it seemed to him more like ten-so that, of course, he quickly noted the place where the pony had fallen in the river, and they had turned aside for their nasty adventure with Tom and Bert and Bill.
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"There is a long road yet," said Gandalf.
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They came to the river that marked the very edge of the borderland of the Wild, and to the ford beneath the steep bank, which you may remember. The water was swollen both with the melting of the snows at the approach of summer, and with the daylong rain; but they crossed with some difficulty, and pressed forward, as evening fell, on the last stage of their journey.
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Not far from the road they found the gold of the trolls, which they had buried, still hidden and untouched. "I have enough to last me my time," said Bilbo, when they had dug it up. "You had better take this, Gandalf. I daresay you can find a use for it."
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So they put the gold in bags and slung them on the ponies, who were not at all pleased about it. After that their going was slower, for most of the time they walked. But the land was green and there was much grass through which the hobbit strolled along contentedly. He mopped his face with a red silk handkerchief-no! not a single one of his own had survived, he had borrowed this one from Elrond-for now June had brought summer, and the weather was bright and hot again.
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"Indeed I can!" said the wizard. "But share and share alike! You may find you have more needs than you expect."
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As all things come to an end, even this story, a day came at last when they were in sight of the country where Bilbo had been born and bred, where the shapes of the land and of the trees were as well known to him as his hands and toes. Coming to a rise he could see his own Hill in the distance, and he stopped suddenly and said:
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And through the merry flowers of June,
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Over grass and over stone,
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Eyes that fire and sword have seen
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"Bless me! What's going on?" he cried. There was a great commotion, and people of all sorts, respectable and unrespectable, were thick round the door, and many were going in and out-not even wiping their feet on the mat, as Bilbo noticed with annoyance.
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And trees and hills they long have known.
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Over snow by winter sown,
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Look at last on meadows green
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Under cloud and under star,
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Yet feet that wandering have gone
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And so they crossed the bridge and passed the mill by the river and came right back to Bilbo's own door.
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And horror in the halls of stone
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If he was surprised, they were more surprised still. He had arrived back in the middle of an auction! There was a large notice in black and red hung on the gate, stating that on June the Twenty-second Messrs Grubb, Grubb, and Burrowes would sell by auction the effects of the late Bilbo Baggins Esquire, of Bag-End, Underhill, Hobbiton. Sale to commence at ten o'clock sharp. It was now nearly lunchtime, and most of the things had already been sold, for various prices from next to nothing to old songs (as is not unusual at auctions). Bilbo's cousins the Sackville-Bagginses were, in fact, busy measuring his rooms to see if their own furniture would fit. In short Bilbo was "Presumed Dead", and not everybody that said so was sorry to find the presumption wrong.
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Turn at last to home afar.
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Over rock and under tree,
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Gandalf looked at him. "My dear Bilbo!" he said. "Something is the matter with you! You are not the hobbit that you were."
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By caves where never sun has shone,
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Roads go ever ever on
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And under mountains in the moon.
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By streams that never find the sea;
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Roads go ever ever on,
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The return of Mr. Bilbo Baggins created quite a disturbance, both under the Hill and over the Hill, and across the Water; it was a great deal more than a nine days' wonder. The legal bother, indeed, lasted for years. It was quite a long time before Mr. Baggins was in fact admitted to be alive again. The people who had got specially good bargains at the Sale took a deal of convincing; and in the end to save time Bilbo had to buy back quite a lot of his own furniture. Many of his silver spoons mysteriously disappeared and were never accounted for. Personally he suspected the Sackville-Bagginses. On their side they never admitted that the returned Baggins was genuine, and they were not on friendly terms with Bilbo ever after. They really had wanted to live in his nice hobbit-hole so very much.
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Indeed Bilbo found he had lost more than spoons-he had lost his reputation. It is true that for ever after he remained an elf-friend, and had the honour of dwarves, wizards, and all such folk as ever passed that way; but he was no longer quite respectable. He was in fact held by all the hobbits of the neighbourhood to be 'queer' -- except by his nephews and nieces on the Took side, but even they were not encouraged in their friendship by their elders.
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One autumn evening some years afterwards Bilbo was sitting in his study writing his memoirs-he thought of calling them "There and Back Again, a Hobbit's Holiday" -- when there was a ring at the door. It was Gandalf and a dwarf; and the dwarf was actually Balin.
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I am sorry to say he did not mind. He was quite content; and the sound of the kettle on his hearth was ever after more musical than it had been even in the quiet days before the Unexpected Party. His sword he hung over the mantelpiece. His coat of mail was arranged on a stand in the hall (until he lent it to a Museum). His gold and silver was largely spent in presents, both useful and extravagant-which to a certain extent accounts for the affection of his nephews and his nieces. His magic ring he kept a great secret, for he chiefly used it when unpleasant callers came.
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He took to writing poetry and visiting the elves; and though many shook their heads and touched their foreheads and said "Poor old Baggins!" and though few believed any of his tales, he remained very happy to the end of his days, and those were extraordinarily long.
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"Come in! Come in!" said Bilbo, and soon they were settled in chairs by the fire. If Balin noticed that Mr. Baggins' waistcoat was more extensive (and had real gold buttons), Bilbo also noticed that Balin's beard was several inches longer, and his jewelled belt was of great magnificence.
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They fell to talking of their times together, of course, and Bilbo asked how things were going in the lands of the Mountain. It seemed they were going very well. Bard had rebuilt the town in Dale and men had gathered to him from the Lake and from South and West, and all the valley had become tilled again and rich, and the desolation was now filled with birds and blossoms in spring and fruit and feasting in autumn. And Lake-town was refounded and was more prosperous than ever, and much wealth went up and down the Running River; and there was friendship in those parts between elves and dwarves and men.
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The old Master had come to a bad end. Bard had given him much gold for the help of the Lake-people, but being of the kind that easily catches such disease he fell under the dragon-sickness, and took most of the gold and fled with it, and died of starvation in the Waste, deserted by his companions.
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"The new Master is of wiser kind," said Balin, "and very popular, for, of course, he gets most of the credit for the present prosperity. They are making songs which say that in his day the rivers run with gold."
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"Then the prophecies of the old songs have turned out to be true, after a fashion!" said Bilbo.
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"Of course!" said Gandalf. "And why should not they prove true? Surely you don't disbelieve the prophecies, because you had a hand in bringing them about yourself? You don't really suppose, do you, that all your adventures and escapes were managed by mere luck, just for your sole bene-fit? You are a very fine person, Mr. Baggins, and I am very fond of you; but you are only quite a little fellow in a wide world after all!"
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"Thank goodness!" said Bilbo laughing, and handed him the tobacco-jar.
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