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go to the web site <http://geocities.com/CatrlysncocLach/> 
 
 
 
 
dare to approach Smaug, but believed they were frauds who would sooner
or later be discovered and be turned out. He was wrong. Thorin, of
course, was really the grandson of the King under the Mountain, and
there is no knowing what a dwarf will not dare and do for revenge or the
recovery of his own. But the Master was not sorry at all to let them go.
They were expensive to keep, and their arrival had turned things into a
long holiday in which business was at a standstill. Let them go and
bother Smaug, and see how he welcomes them! he thought. Certainly, O
Thorin Thrains son Thrors son! was what he said. You must claim your
own. The hour is at hand, spoken of old. What help we can offer shall be
yours, and we trust to your gratitude when your kingdom is regained. So
one day, although autumn was now getting far on, and winds were cold,
and leaves were falling fast, three large boats left Lake-town, laden
with rowers, dwarves, Mr. Baggins, and many provisions. Horses and
ponies had been sent round by circuitous paths to meet them at their
appointed landing-place. The Master and his councillors bade them

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