第127页

"Which  king?"  said  another  with  a  grim  voice.  "As  like  as  not  it  is  the  marauding  fire  of  the  Dragon,  the  only  king  under  the  Mountain  we  have  ever  known."

"You  are  always  foreboding  gloomy  things!"  said  the  others.  "Anything  from  floods  to  poisoned  fish.  Think  of  something  cheerful!"

Then  suddenly  a  great  light  appeared  in  the  low  place  in  the  hills  and  the  northern  end  of  the  lake  turned  golden.

"The  King  beneath  the  Mountain!"  they  shouted.  "His  wealth  is  like  the  Sun,  his  silver  like  a  fountain,  his  rivers  golden  run!  The  river  is  running  gold  from  the  Mountain!"  they  cried,  and  everywhere  windows  were  opening  and  feet  were  hurrying.

There  was  once  more  a  tremendous  excitement  and  enthusiasm.  But  the  grim-voiced  fellow  ran  hotfoot  to  the  Master.  "The  dragon  is  coming  or  I  am  a  fool!"  he  cried.  "Cut  the  bridges!  To  arms!  To  arms!"

Then  warning  trumpets  were  suddenly  sounded,  and  echoed  along  the  rocky  shores.  The  cheering  stopped  and  the  joy  was  turned  to  dread.  So  it  was  that  the  dragon  did  not  find  them  quite  unprepared.  Before  long,  so  great  was  his  speed,  they  could  see  him  as  a  spark  of  fire  rushing  towards  them  and  growing  ever  huger  and  more  bright,  and  not  the  most  foolish  doubted  that  the  prophecies  had  gone  rather  wrong.  Still  they  had  a  little  time.  Every  vessel  in  the  town  was  filled  with  water,  every  warrior  was  armed,  every  arrow  and  dart  was  ready,  and  the  bridge  to  the  land  was  thrown  down  and  destroyed,  before  the  roar  of  Smaug's  terrible  approach  grew  loud,  and  the  lake  rippled  red  as  fire  beneath  the  awful  beating  of  his  wings.

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.