Slept
uneasily with dreams
in which there came the howl
of hunting wolves and the cries
of goblins.

Still the next morning dawned
bright and fair
again.

There was an autumn-like mist
white upon the ground
and the air was chill,
but soon the sun rose red
in the East
and the mists vanished,
and while the shadows were still long
they were off again.

So they rode now for two more days,
and all the while
they saw nothing
save grass and flowers and birds and scattered trees, and occasionally small
herds of red deer browsing or sitting at noon in the shade.

Sometimes Bilbo saw
the horns of the harts
sticking up out of the long
grass,
and at first he thought
they were the dead branches
of trees.

That third evening
they were so eager to press
on,
for Beorn had said
that they should reach the forest-gate
early on the fourth day,
that they rode still forward
after dusk and into the night
beneath the moon.

As the

butcher all ready to cook.
Gandalf, too, was
lying down after doing
his part in
setting the fire
going,
since Oin and Gloin had lost
their tinder-boxes.
(Dwarves have never taken to matches even yet.)

So ended the adventures
of the Misty Mountains.
Soon Bilbos stomach
was feeling full
and comfortable again,
and he felt he could
sleep contentedly,
though really
he would have liked
a loaf and butter better
than bits of meat toasted
on sticks.

He slept curled up
on the hard
rock
more soundly than ever
he had done on his feather-bed
in his own little hole
at home.

But all night he dreamed
of his own house and
wandered in his sleep
into all his different
rooms looking
for something that he
could not find
nor remember
what it looked
like.

Chapter
7
Queer Lodgings