The Hobbit – Book to Film Analysis

CHAPTER TWELVE – INSIDE INFORMATION

The company stands before the secret door deliberating on what to do next for some time. Eventually Thorin interjects and announces that it is time for Bilbo to do what he was hired for. He goes on at length about earning his reward and having confidence in Bilbo, but the hobbit becomes cross and silences him, threatening to refuse if he continues to carry on about earning his portion of the treasure. Bilbo cites that he has rescued the company twice already in situations not stipulated in the quest’s contract, having earned at least some reward for just that, but agrees to carry on with his task of investigating the mountain largely due to his own confidence in the errand. He asks if anyone will accompany him inside; all of the dwarves sit silently aside save for Balin, who is quite fond of Bilbo, and agrees to come in part of the way and to call for help if necessary.

Tolkien then provides a rather interesting summary of dwarves from the perspective of the omniscient narrator, a passage worth critiquing I think:

“The most that can be said for the dwarves is this: they intended to pay Bilbo really handsomely for his services; they had brought him to do a nasty job for them, and they did not mind the poor little fellow doing it if he would; but they would all have done their best to get him out of trouble, if he got into it, as they did in the case of the trolls at the beginning of their adventures before they had any particular reasons for being grateful to him. There it is: dwarves are not heroes, but calculating folk with a great idea of the value of money; some are tricky and treacherous and pretty bad lots; some are not, but are decent enough people like Thorin and Company, if you don’t expect too much” (197, 1984).

I think one could argue at length how disquieting this description is by Tolkien—it’s hard to parse out whether this is the narrator’s bias speaking or Tolkien describing exactly what the dwarves represent in his overall narrative. He almost seems to demonize them in a way that is reminiscent of 20th century semitic stereotypes. While his later dwarvish character, Gimli, certainly falls into a redeeming “hero” archetype, it seems overly strange to dismiss an entire race of folk in Middle-Earth as “not heroes,” and I am not entirely sure where the bias falls, or where it is intended to fall. I will leave this subject for something of discussion in the comments or elsewhere.

Bilbo enters the tunnel with Balin and after a short while Balin departs with a “Goodluck!” and nothing more. Wary of the echoes of his feet, Bilbo plucks up his courage, puts on the Ring, loosened his sword in its sheath, “tightened his belt, and went on.” As he descends deeper into the mountain, the tunnel grows warmer and he begins to see a dim glow at the far end. The glow grows redder and redder as he approaches. He begins to hear a strange sound, a “throb in his ears, a sort of bubbling like the noise of a large pot galloping on the fire, mixed with a rumble of a gigantic tom-cat purring. This grew to the unmistakable gurgling noise of some vast animal snoring in its deep sleep down there in the red glow in front of him” (198, 1984).

Here I will quote at length directly, as Tolkien’s prose here is something worth appreciating:

“It was at this point that Bilbo stopped. Going on from there was the bravest thing he ever did. The tremendous things that happened afterwards were as nothing compared to it. He fought the real battle alone, before he ever saw the vast danger that lay in wait. At any rate after a short halt go on he did; and you can picture him coming to the end of the tunnel, an opening of much the same size and shape as the door above. Through it peeps the hobbit’s little head. Before him lies the great bottom-most cellar or dungeon-hall of the ancient dwarves right at the Mountain’s root. It is almost dark so that its vastness can only be dimly guessed, but rising from the near side of the rocky floor there is a great glow. The glow of Smaug!

“There he lay, a vast red-golden dragon, fast asleep; a thrumming came from his jaws and nostrils, and wisps of smoke, but his fires were low in slumber. Beneath him, under all his limbs and his huge coiled tail, and about him on all sides stretching away across the unseen floors lay countless piles of precious things, gold wrought and unwrought, gems and jewels, and silver red-stained in the ruddy light.

Smaug lay, with wings folded like an immeasurable bat, turned partly on one side, so that the hobbit could see his underparts and his long pale belly crusted with gems and fragments of gold from his long lying on his costly bed. Behind him where the walls were nearest could dimly be seen coats of mail, helms and axes, swords and spears hanging; and there in rows stood great jars and vessels filled with wealth that could not be guessed.

To say that Bilbo’s breath was taken away is no description at all. There are no words left to express his staggerment, since Men changed the language that they learned of elves in the days when all the world was wonderful. Bilbo had heard tell of and sing of dragon-hoards before, but the splendor, the lust, the glory of such treasure had never yet come home to him. His heart was filled and pierced with enchantment and with the desire of the dwarves; and he gazed motionless, almost forgetting the frightful guardian, at the gold beyond price and count.” (198-199, 1984)

Finally snapping out of his trance, Bilbo creeps to the nearest corner of the treasure hoard and grasps a large two-handed cup, as heavy as he can carry. He looks up at the dragon cautiously. Smaug “stirred a wing, opened a claw, the rumble of his snoring changed its note.

“Then Bilbo fled. But the dragon did not wake—not yet—but shifted into other dreams of greed and violence, lying there in his stolen hall while the little hobbit toiled back up the long tunnel.” Bilbo hurried back up the tunnel with his heart racing, and by the time he reached an overjoyed Balin he was in a daze. Balin lifted him and carried him out of the tunnel to the awaiting Dwarves who praised and fawned over Bilbo, pledging their service and their families to come to him if he was ever in need.

Amidst their celebrations and excitement, however, deep below them the dragon suddenly awoke, bellowing and trampling about so that ground trembled as if the mountain had suddenly become a volcano fit to burst. The secret door nearly closed on them had a rock not blocked it from shutting entirely. The Dwarves “forgot their joy and their confident boasts of a moment before and cowered down in fright. Smaug was still to be reckoned with. It does not do to leave a live dragon out of your calculations, if you live near him. Dragons may not have much real use for all their wealth, but they know it to an ounce as a rule, especially after long possession; and Smaug was no exception. He had passed from an uneasy dream (in which a warrior, altogether insignificant in size but provided with a bitter sword and great courage, figured most unpleasantly) to a doze, and from a doze to wide waking. There was a breath of strange air in the cave. Could there be a draught from that little hole? He had never felt quite happy about it, though it was so small, and now he glared at it in suspicion and wondered why he had never blocked it up. Of late he had fancied he had caught the dim echoes of a knocking sound fro far above that came down through it to his lair. He stirred and stretched forth his neck to sniff. Then he missed the cup!

“Thieves! Fire! Murder! Such a thing had not happened since first he came to the Mountain! His rage passes description—the sort of rage that is only seen when rich folk that have more than they can enjoy suddenly lose something that they have long had but have never before used or wanted. His fire belched forth, the hall smoked, he shook the mountain roots. He thrust his head in vain at the little hole, and then coiling his length together, roaring like thunder underground, he sped from his deep lair through its great door, out into the huge passages of the mountain-palace and up towards the Front Gate.” (200, 1984)

The dragon soared out in the night in a fury, blasting fire upon the mountainside and the surrounding lands, seeking out the thief that would steal from him. The Dwarves panicked, completely exposed on the side of the mountain. They then realize that they left Bombur and Bofur down with their supplies below them; it is Thorin who demands they be saved and not abandoned, and in a desperate move of courage and comradery the Company risks obliteration by the dragon to throw down ropes and to haul up a terrified Bombur and Bofur. As soon as they are brought up the dragon swoops over the mountain above, raining fire upon them. They are barely able to rush into the secret door and close it as much as they dare when flames destroy the little plateau where they once stood, the screams of their ponies below them indicating Smaug’s wrath. They flee and Smaug chases after them, his roars growing distant. The Company waits in the tunnel for a long while, the sound of the dragon’s wroth growing louder and dimmer as he wheels around the mountain searching in vain for his prey.

As dawn comes the dragon retires back to his “golden couch” – after some initial blaming of Bilbo for upsetting the dragon, Bilbo crossly puts the Dwarves back in their place and is the only one to suggest a plan of action. At this point he has become the de facto leader of the Company and offers to descend back into the lair of the beast with his Ring on to see if he can spot a weakness to be used against the dragon. The next day he descends back down into the tunnel; “had he known more about dragons and their wily ways, he might have been more frightened and less hopeful of catching this one napping.”

Creeping as quietly as he can, Bilbo feels very highly of himself. “‘Old Smaug is weary and asleep,’ he thought. ‘He can’t see me and he won’t hear me. Cheer up Bilbo!’ He had forgotten or had never heard about dragons’ sense of smell. It is an awkward fact that they can keep half an eye open watching while asleep, if they are suspicious.

“Smaug certainly looked fast asleep, almost dead and dark, with scarcely a snore more than a whiff of unseen steam, when Bilbo peeped once more from the entrance. He was just about to step out on to the floor when he caught a sudden thin and piercing ray of red from under the dropping lid of Smaug’s left eye. He was only pretending to sleep! He was watching the tunnel entrance! Hurriedly Bilbo stepped back and blessed the luck of his ring. The Smaug spoke.” (204-2015, 1984)

Here I will simply quote the remainder of the chapter in full, as it is my favorite part of the entire book and is worth reading for yourself, if you have the time. My summarizing of it would not do the dialogue justice. Extra points if you read Smaug’s lines out loud to yourself in Benedict Cumberbach’s voice.

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“Well, thief! I smell you and I feel your air. I hear your breath. Come along! Help yourself again, there is plenty and to spare!”

But Bilbo was not quite so unlearned in dragon-lore as all that, and if Smaug hoped to get him to come nearer so easily he was disappointed. “No thank you, O Smaug the Tremendous!” he replied.

“I did not come for presents. I only wished to have a look at you and see if you were truly as great as tales say. I did not believe them.”

“Do you now?” said the dragon somewhat flattered, even though he did not believe a word of it.

“Truly songs and tales fall utterly short of the reality, O Smaug the Chiefest and Greatest of Calamities,” replied Bilbo.

“You have nice manners for a thief and a liar,” said the dragon. “You seem familiar with my name, but I don’t seem to remember smelling you before. Who are you and where do you come from, may I ask?”

“You may indeed! I come from under the hill, and under the hills and over the hills my paths led. And through the air. I am he that walks unseen.”

“So I can well believe,” said Smaug, “but that is hardly your usual name.”

“I am the clue-finder, the web-cutter, the stinging fly. I was chosen for the lucky number.”

“Lovely titles!” sneered the dragon. “But lucky numbers don’t always come off.”

“I am he that buries his friends alive and drowns them and draws them alive again from the water. I came from the end of a bag, but no bag went over me.”

“These don’t sound so creditable,” scoffed Smaug. “I am the friend of bears and the guest of eagles. I am Ringwinner and Luckwearer; and I am Barrel-rider,” went on Bilbo beginning to be pleased with his riddling.

“That’s better!” said Smaug. “But don’t let your imagination run away with you!”

This of course is the way to talk to dragons, if you don’t want to reveal your proper name (which is wise), and don’t want to infuriate them by a flat refusal (which is also very wise). No dragon can resist the fascination of riddling talk and of wasting time trying to understand it. There was a lot here which Smaug did not understand at all (though I expect you do, since you know all about Bilbo’s adventures to which he was referring), but he thought he understood enough, and he chuckled in his wicked inside.

“I thought so last night,” he smiled to himself. “Lake-men, some nasty scheme of those miserable tub-trading Lake-men, or I’m a lizard. I haven’t been down that way for an age and an age; but I will soon alter that!”

“Very well, O Barrel-rider!” he said aloud. “Maybe Barrel was your pony’s name; and maybe not, though it was fat enough. You may walk unseen, but you did not walk all the way. Let me tell you I ate six ponies last night and I shall catch and eat all the others before long. In return for the excellent meal I will give you one piece of advice for your good: don’t have more to do with dwarves than you can help!”

“Dwarves!” said Bilbo in pretended surprise. “Don’t talk to me!” said Smaug. “I know the smell (and taste) of dwarf—no one better. Don’t tell me that I can eat a dwarf-ridden pony and not know it! You’ll come to a bad end, if you go with such friends, Thief Barrel-rider. I don’t mind if you go back and tell them so from me.” But he did not tell Bilbo that there was one smell he could not make out at all, hobbit-smell; it was quite outside his experience and puzzled him mightily.

“I suppose you got a fair price for that cup last night?” he went on. “Come now, did you? Nothing at all! Well, that’s just like them. And I suppose they are skulking outside, and your job is to do all the dangerous work and get what you can when I’m not looking—for them? And you will get a fair share? Don’t you believe it! If you get off alive, you will be lucky.”

Bilbo was now beginning to feel really uncomfortable. Whenever Smaug’s roving eye, seeking for him in the shadows, flashed across him, he trembled, and an unaccountable desire seized hold of him to rush out and reveal himself and tell all the truth to Smaug. In fact he was in grievous danger of coming under the dragon-spell. But plucking up courage he spoke again.

“You don’t know everything, O Smaug the Mighty,” said he. “Not gold alone brought us hither.”

“Ha! Ha! You admit the ‘us’” laughed Smaug. “Why not say ‘us fourteen’ and be done with it, Mr. Lucky Number? I am pleased to hear that you had other business in these parts besides my gold. In that case you may, perhaps, not altogether waste your time.

“I don’t know if it has occurred to you that, even if you could steal the gold bit by bit—a matter of a hundred years or so—you could not get it very far? Not much use on the mountain-side? Not much use in the forest? Bless me! Had you never thought of the catch? A fourteenth share, I suppose, or something like it, those were the terms, eh? But what about delivery? What about cartage? What about armed guards and tolls?” And Smaug laughed aloud. He had a wicked and a wily heart, and he knew his guesses were not far out, though he suspected that the Lake-men were at the back of the plans, and that most of the plunder was meant to stop there in the town by the shore that in his young days had been called Esgaroth.

You will hardly believe it, but poor Bilbo was really very taken aback. So far all his thoughts and energies had been concentrated on getting to the Mountain and finding the entrance. He had never bothered to wonder how the treasure was to be removed, certainly never how any part of it that might fall to his share was to be brought back all the way to Bag-End Under-Hill.

Now a nasty suspicion began to grow in his mind—had the dwarves forgotten this important point too, or were they laughing in their sleeves at him all the time? That is the effect that dragon-talk has on the inexperienced. Bilbo of course ought to have been on his guard; but Smaug had rather an overwhelming personality.

“I tell you,” he said, in an effort to remain loyal to his friends and to keep his end up, “that gold was only an afterthought with us. We came over hill and under hill, by wave and wind, for Revenge. Surely, O Smaug the unassessably wealthy, you must realize that your success has made you some bitter enemies?”

Then Smaug really did laugh—a devastating sound which shook Bilbo to the floor, while far up in the tunnel the dwarves huddled together and imagined that the hobbit had come to a sudden and a nasty end.

“Revenge!” he snorted, and the light of his eyes lit the hall from floor to ceiling like scarlet lightning. “Revenge! The King under the Mountain is dead and where are his kin that dare seek revenge? Girion Lord of Dale is dead, and I have eaten his people like a wolf among sheep, and where are his sons’ sons that dare approach me? I kill where I wish and none dare resist. I laid low the warriors of old and their like is not in the world today. Then I was but young and tender. Now I am old and strong, strong, strong, Thief in the Shadows!” he gloated. “My armour is like tenfold shields, my teeth are swords, my claws spears, the shock of my tail a thunderbolt, my wings a hurricane, and my breath death!”

“I have always understood,” said Bilbo in a frightened squeak, “that dragons were softer underneath, especially in the region of the—er—chest; but doubtless one so fortified has thought of that.”

The dragon stopped short in his boasting. “Your information is antiquated,” he snapped. “I am armoured above and below with iron scales and hard gems. No blade can pierce me.”

“I might have guessed it,” said Bilbo. “Truly there can nowhere be found the equal of Lord Smaug the Impenetrable. What magnificence to possess a waistcoat of fine diamonds!”

“Yes, it is rare and wonderful, indeed,” said Smaug absurdly pleased. He did not know that the hobbit had already caught a glimpse of his peculiar under-covering on his previous visit, and was itching for a closer view for reasons of his own. The dragon rolled over. “Look!” he said. “What do you say to that?”

“Dazzlingly marvellous! Perfect! Flawless! Staggering!” exclaimed Bilbo aloud, but what he thought inside was: “Old fool! Why, there is a large patch in the hollow of his left breast as bare as a snail out of its shell!”

After he had seen that Mr. Baggins’ one idea was to get away. “Well, I really must not detain Your Magnificence any longer,” he said, “or keep you from much needed rest. Ponies take some catching, I believe, after a long start. And so do burglars,” he added as a parting shot, as he darted back and fled up the tunnel.

It was an unfortunate remark, for the dragon spouted terrific flames after him, and fast though he sped up the slope, he had not gone nearly far enough to be comfortable before the ghastly head of Smaug was thrust against the opening behind. Luckily the whole head and jaws could not squeeze in, but the nostrils sent forth fire and vapour to pursue him, and he was nearly overcome, and stumbled blindly on in great pain and fear. He had been feeling rather pleased with the cleverness of his conversation with Smaug, but his mistake at the end shook him into better sense.

“Never laugh at live dragons, Bilbo you fool!” he said to himself, and it became a favourite saying of his later, and passed into a proverb. “You aren’t nearly through this adventure yet,” he added, and that was pretty true as well.

The afternoon was turning into evening when he came out again and stumbled and fell in a faint on the ‘doorstep’. The dwarves revived him, and doctored his scorches as well as they could; but it was a long time before the hair on the back of his head and his heels grew properly again: it had all been singed and frizzled right down to the skin. In the meanwhile his friends did their best to cheer him up; and they were eager for his story, especially wanting to know why the dragon had made such an awful noise, and how Bilbo had escaped.

But the hobbit was worried and uncomfortable, and they had difficulty in getting anything out of him. On thinking things over he was now regretting some of the things he had said to the dragon, and was not eager to repeat them. The old thrush was sitting on a rock near by with his head cocked on one side, listening to all that was said. It shows what an ill temper Bilbo was in: he picked up a stone and threw it at the thrush, which merely fluttered aside and came back.

“Drat the bird!” said Bilbo crossly. “I believe he is listening, and I don’t like the look of him.”

“Leave him alone!” said Thorin. “The thrushes are good and friendly—this is a very old bird indeed, and is maybe the last left of the ancient breed that used to live about here, tame to the hands of my father and grandfather. They were a long-lived and magical race, and this might even be one of those that were alive then, a couple of hundreds of years or more ago. The Men of Dale used to have the trick of understanding their language, and used them for messengers to fly to the Men of the Lake and elsewhere.”

“Well, he’ll have news to take to Lake-town all right, if that is what he is after,” said Bilbo; “though I don’t suppose there are any people left there that trouble with thrush-language.”

“Why what has happened?” cried the dwarves. “Do get on with your tale!”

So Bilbo told them all he could remember, and he confessed that he had a nasty feeling that the dragon guessed too much from his riddles added to the camps and the ponies. “I am sure he knows we came from Lake-town and had help from there; and I have a horrible feeling that his next move may be in that direction. I wish to goodness I had never said that about Barrel-rider; it would make even a blind rabbit in these parts think of the Lake-men.”

“Well, well! It cannot be helped, and it is difficult not to slip in talking to a dragon, or so I have always heard,” said Balin anxious to comfort him. “I think you did very well, if you ask me—you found out one very useful thing at any rate, and got home alive, and that is more than most can say who have had words with the likes of Smaug. It may be a mercy and a blessing yet to know of the bare patch in the old Worm’s diamond waistcoat.”

That turned the conversation, and they all began discussing dragon-slayings historical, dubious, and mythical, and the various sorts of stabs and jabs and undercuts, and the different arts devices and stratagems by which they had been accomplished. The general opinion was that catching a dragon napping was not as easy as it sounded, and the attempt to stick one or prod one asleep was more likely to end in disaster than a bold frontal attack. All the while they talked the thrush listened, till at last when the stars began to peep forth, it silently spread its wings and flew away. And all the while they talked and the shadows lengthened Bilbo became more and more unhappy and his foreboding grew.

At last he interrupted them. “I am sure we are very unsafe here,” he said, “and I don’t see the point of sitting here. The dragon has withered all the pleasant green, and anyway the night has come and it is cold. But I feel it in my bones that this place will be attacked again. Smaug knows now how I came down to his hall, and you can trust him to guess where the other end of the tunnel is. He will break all this side of the Mountain to bits, if necessary, to stop up our entrance, and if we are smashed with it the better he will like it.”

“You are very gloomy, Mr. Baggins!” said Thorin. “Why has not Smaug blocked the lower end, then, if he is so eager to keep us out? He has not, or we should have heard him.”

“I don’t know, I don’t know—because at first he wanted to try and lure me in again, I suppose, and now perhaps because he is waiting till after tonight’s hunt, or because he does not want to damage his bedroom if he can help it—but I wish you would not argue. Smaug will be coming out at any minute now, and our only hope is to get well in the tunnel and shut the door.”

He seemed so much in earnest that the dwarves at last did as he said, though they delayed shutting the door—it seemed a desperate plan, for no one knew whether or how they could get it open again from the inside, and the thought of being shut in a place from which the only way out led through the dragon’s lair was not one they liked. Also everything seemed quite quiet, both outside and down the tunnel. So for a longish while they sat inside not far down from the half-open door and went on talking.

The talk turned to the dragon’s wicked words about the dwarves. Bilbo wished he had never heard them, or at least that he could feel quite certain that the dwarves now were absolutely honest when they declared that they had never thought at all about what would happen after the treasure had been won. “We knew it would be a desperate venture,” said Thorin, “and we know that still; and I still think that when we have won it will be time enough to think what to do about it. As for your share, Mr. Baggins, I assure you we are more than grateful and you shall choose your own fourteenth, as soon as we have anything to divide. I am sorry if you are worried about transport, and I admit the difficulties are great—the lands have not become less wild with the passing of time, rather the reverse—but we will do whatever we can for you, and take our share of the cost when the time comes. Believe me or not as you like!”

From that the talk turned to the great hoard itself and to the things that Thorin and Balin remembered. They wondered if they were still lying there unharmed in the hall below: the spears that were made for the armies of the great King Bladorthin (long since dead), each had a thrice-forged head and their shafts were inlaid with cunning gold, but they were never delivered or paid for; shields made for warriors long dead; the great golden cup of Thror, two-handed, hammered and carven with birds and flowers whose eyes and petals were of jewels; coats of mail gilded and silvered and impenetrable; the necklace of Girion, Lord of Dale, made of five hundred emeralds green as grass, which he gave for the arming of his eldest son in a coat of dwarf-linked rings the like of which had never been made before, for it was wrought of pure silver to the power and strength of triple steel. But fairest of all was the great white gem, which the dwarves had found beneath the roots of the Mountain, the Heart of the Mountain, the Arkenstone of Thrain.

“The Arkenstone! The Arkenstone!” murmured Thorin in the dark, half dreaming with his chin upon his knees. “It was like a globe with a thousand facets; it shone like silver in the firelight, like water in the sun, like snow under the stars, like rain upon the Moon!”

But the enchanted desire of the hoard had fallen from Bilbo. All through their talk he was only half listening to them. He sat nearest to the door with one ear cocked for any beginnings of a sound without, his other was alert for echoes beyond the murmurs of the dwarves, for any whisper of a movement from far below.

Darkness grew deeper and he grew ever more uneasy. “Shut the door!” he begged them, “I fear that dragon in my marrow. I like this silence far less than the uproar of last night. Shut the door before it is too late!”

Something in his voice gave the dwarves an uncomfortable feeling. Slowly Thorin shook off his dreams and getting up he kicked away the stone that wedged the door. Then they thrust upon it, and it closed with a snap and a clang. No trace of a keyhole was there left on the inside. They were shut in the Mountain!

And not a moment too soon. They had hardly gone any distance down the tunnel when a blow smote the side of the Mountain like the crash of battering-rams made of forest oaks and swung by giants. The rock boomed, the walls cracked and stones fell from the roof on their heads. What would have happened if the door had still been open I don’t like to think. They fled further down the tunnel glad to be still alive, while behind them outside they heard the roar and rumble of Smaug’s fury. He was breaking rocks to pieces, smashing wall and cliff with the lashings of his huge tail, till their little lofty camping ground, the scorched grass, the thrush’s stone, the snail-covered walls, the narrow ledge, and all disappeared in a jumble of smithereens, and an avalanche of splintered stones fell over the cliff into the valley below.

Smaug had left his lair in silent stealth, quietly soared into the air, and then floated heavy and slow in the dark like a monstrous crow, down the wind towards the west of the Mountain, in the hopes of catching unawares something or somebody there, and of spying the outlet to the passage which the thief had used. This was the outburst of his wrath when he could find nobody and see nothing, even where he guessed the outlet must actually be.

After he had let off his rage in this way he felt better and he thought in his heart that he would not be troubled again from that direction. In the meanwhile he had further vengeance to take. “Barrel-rider!” he snorted. “Your feet came from the waterside and up the water you came without a doubt. I don’t know your smell, but if you are not one of those men of the Lake, you had their help. They shall see me and remember who is the real King under the Mountain!”

He rose in fire and went away south towards the Running River.

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The Hobbit – Book to Film Analysis

CHAPTER FOURTEEN – FIRE AND WATER

It’s important to note that in the text, a whole chapter passes by where the dwarves investigate Erebor while the dragon is away, leaving them and the reader in the dark as to Smaug’s or Lake Town’s fate. As these events are depicted in a different order in the film, I connected Chapter 12 and Chapter 14 directly and will come back to Chapter 13 in Part XII.

The people of the Lake Town see dim flashes of glowing light high up in the dark clouds looming around the mountain, and in the dusk their excitement grows as they see a golden flash of light mirror off of the Lake’s surface near the mountain’s base. They believe that it is the prophecy coming true and gold flowing into the lake from the rich mines of Erebor. One man however—later named Bard in passing—begs for the people of Lake Town to take up arms, as he recognizes that the only explanation for these flashes of light, now drawing nearer, is the dragon.

The people of the Lake prepare themselves surprisingly quickly, arming themselves with bow and dart before Smaug reaches them, his great girth hurtling over the surface of the lake like a lightning bolt. The Lake people lower the bridge so that it will not be destroyed.

As Smaug approaches the town, the dragon finds he dislikes how far the settlement is into deep water, something he is wary of. “If he plunged into it, a vapor 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” (230, 1984).

As the dragon passes overhead the people of the Lake fire arrows and darts at him, rattling off of his armored hide and set aflame by his breath. Smaug is infuriated that the Lakemen would dare attempt battle with him, as “no one had dared to give battle to him in many an age,” nor would they if Bard was not ordering the men to fight to the last arrow in the Master’s stead.

Smaug lights the surrounding countryside ablaze and then wheels back around to attack the Lake Town itself. The people of the Lake had prepared, however, and had dowsed their homes and buildings in water to control the flames as much as they could. Although the people of Lake Town initially manage to beat off the first streams of dragon breath with water, they are soon overwhelmed and the town is engulfed in flame. Men jump into the water everywhere. Women and children evacuate in boats. The Master attempts to flee in his gilded boat amidst the confusion and chaos.

Up above Smaug is enjoying his sport; he does not mind the people evacuating, as he intends to let them come ashore where he will wait to devour them, or watch them starve waiting in the water. Meanwhile there are still men attempting to bring him down with arrows. “Their captain was Bard, grim-voiced and grim-faced, whose friends had accused him of prophesying floods and poisoned fish, though they knew his worth and courage. He was a descendant in long line of Girion, Lord of Dale, whose wife and child had escaped down the Running River from the ruin long ago. Now he shot with a great yew bow, till all his arrows but one were spent. The flames were near him. His companions were leaving him. He bent his bow for the last time” (231, 1984).

Just then the old thrush from the mountain descends and perches on Bard’s shoulder, bearing tidings and news of the bald spot in the dragon’s underbelly. As Smaug wheels back towards the crumbling town, Bard readies his last arrow.

“‘Arrow!’ said the bowman. ‘Black arrow! I have saved you to the last. You have never failed me and always I have recovered you. I had you from my father and he from of old. If ever you came from the forges of the true king under the Mountain, go now and speed well!’

“The dragon swooped once more lower than ever, and as he turned and dived down his belly glittered white with sparkling fires of gems in the moon—but not in one place. The great bow twanged. The black arrow sped straight from the string, straight for the hollow by the left breast where the foreleg was flung wide. In it smote and vanished, barb, shaft and feather, so fierce was its flight. With a shriek that deafened men, felled trees and split stone, Smaug shot spouting into the air, turned over and crashed down from on high in ruin.

Full on the town he fell. His last throes splintered it to sparks and gledes. The lake roared in. A vast steam leaped up, white in the sudden dark under the moon. There was a hiss, a gushing whirl, and then silence. And that was the end of Smaug and Esgaroth, but not of Bard.” (232, 1984)

The people of the Lake make for the shore for safety, and although they are not entirely aware of it at the time, over three quarters of their population have survived. Their woods, fields, pastures, boats and cattle had largely remained undamaged. On the shore the people of Lake Town lament Bard’s death and decry the Master that abandoned them, but Bard rises from the water and declares that he still lives and the people of the Lake hail him as King Bard. The Master intervenes, however, distracting the people’s momentary urge for new leadership by laying the blame upon the dwarves that brought the dragon’s wroth upon them. The people realize that the now unguarded treasure will help them rebuild, and for the time they agree to work together to survive until the treasure can be reached. They assume the dwarves are dead and Bard claims to still serve the Master for now, although he may return to Dale as King and settle all those who wish to follow him upon the reclaimed city.

That night many die of sickness or cold and Bard tends to the ill. Bard sends for messages requesting aid to the woodland realm of the elves, and three days after the fall of the dragon a mighty elven host marches towards the Lake. The Elvenking had been notified of the events at Lake Town before Bard’s messages met him; indeed, word traveled fast beyond the woodland realm, even as far west as the Misty Mountains, even to Beorn’s ears and that of the goblins of the caves — everywhere, news of the dragon’s death was heard and muttered. Although the Mirkwood elves had marched upon the mountain for its unprotected treasure before hearing news from Bard, they now diverted their course to give aid to the survivors, arriving five days after the death of the dragon.

Over the next six days, the elves assist the people of the Lake in felling trees and building makeshift huts and homes for the survivors, while the Master begins planning a new and larger Lake Town in a new location. No one dares go near the carcass of the dragon, and for many years its massive bones can be seen resting amidst the ruins of the town, although none dare to swim in those parts or to seek the treasure that fell from the beast’s scales. Eleven days after the death of Smaug, a host of elves and men march toward the Mountain to seek the treasure and refuge.

//

The Hobbit – The Bilbo Edition // Part XI. Smaug the Stupendous

It should be said right off the bat that Peter Jackson went out of his way to fashion this iconic scene with his own vision and that the film adaptation and the original text are drastically different. That said, I think the changes made in the film adaptation work extraordinarily well and effectively heighten what was once an iconic dialogue sequence between a now overconfident Bilbo and a proud dragon, into a horror sequence where Bilbo is very much in danger and may not live to tell this tale. Unlike Book Bilbo, Film Bilbo is not safely positioned by an exit and happily chatting away with a dragon for reconnaissance; he is now in the thick of the treasure hoard seeking the Arkenstone, which isn’t even a plot element in the book yet. The treasure hoard, already impressive in the book, is presented in mythic proportions. I like the idea of the dragon positively bathing himself inside the ocean of gold as opposed to simply sleeping on top of it like a giant cat.

Jackson does a fantastic job adapting the iconic dialogue into a new context. While keeping much of the lines true to the book, Film Bilbo delivers his lines as a desperate way to survive in the face of impossible odds, rather than his cocky book counterpart who simply buys time while he looks for a weakness in the dragon’s defenses. Smaug looks incredible and all the credit in the world should go to the effects team who brought him to life.

I also like that film Smaug senses the Ring on Bilbo, introducing an interesting thought experiment—what would happen if Smaug had the Ring? How drastically different would LOTR have been if Smaug had teamed up with Sauron, or if Sauron had to fight Smaug to retrieve the One Ring? Even more interesting is that it seems that the Ring wanted to be caught by Smaug, adding a nice layer of continuity to the entire sequence.

Martin Freeman excels here, seeing as he is essentially acting alone largely to a green screen. The sense of scale and sense of terror and quick thinking is evident in every shot. The melding of the live action with the special effects is seamless. I love the idea of Smaug as this diva-like brute that takes his interaction with Bilbo, the farthest thing from a threat, as an opportunity to monologue about himself. It takes inspiration from the text but the power dynamic is drastically different. In the book, Bilbo ultimately has the upperhand with a suspicious and amused Smaug; in the film, Smaug’s pride and self-absorption is the only thing that saves Bilbo’s life.

Something I was very glad to cut out from the original trilogy was the egregious plot-hole involving Smaug gloating to Bilbo about tempting Thorin with the Arkenstone. I am baffled that Jackson and the other writers thought this was a good idea, as it makes absolutely no sense. Smaug has no idea who Thorin is, and even if he did, he would know him as Thorin son of Thrain son of Thror, not Oakenshield. The name Oakenshield was given to Thorin long after their expulsion from Erebor, after his confrontation with Azog at Moria. Some fan edits have kept this part in and I implore that they revise and cut it out. It’s a huge distraction and ultimately is a massive plot-hole that detracts from the quality of the film’s continuity with the masterfully maintained LOTR films.

Bilbo and the dwarves are also much more involved in their responsibility of Lake Town’s fate. In the book they’re largely unaware of what is going on and some hardly care; Bilbo only suspects that he gave too much information to Smaug. I like that the dwarves recognize their own blame in the death of innocent lives on the Lake for their own greed and recklessness. It also nicely sets up Thorin’s descent into dragon sickness.

At Lake Town we see the enhanced characterization of Bard pay off. If the films were true to the book, we would be first introduced to Bard here. This could have been interesting had the dwarves come to Lake Town in another manner, but I like the symmetry of Bard’s last stand with that of Girion’s. It highlights the subtle theme in the book of descendants avenging their ancestors and we get a more fleshed out hero as a result. I would have liked to see Bard commanding other archers, and Lake Town as a whole is far less prepared for the dragon attack in the film than in the book. That said, the attack on Esgaroth is thrilling and Jackson gets to stretch his horror-muscles amidst the chaos.

Due to the limitations of the editing process, one has to suspend disbelief in a few areas. First, assume all the dwarves are together outside Erebor and that the missing ones are simply off screen. Second, assume that Bard has the black arrow tucked away in his large coat. Some fan edits keep Bard’s son in to great effect, others cut him out. I personally prefer the scene without the son, although there is slightly better continuity with the son due to the way the entire sequence was originally filmed. If I could change anything about this, I would have swapped the son with the thrush from Erebor, which was completely cut from the original trilogy, sadly. It’s a nice moment in the books, but I can understand why it might have been difficult to sell in the adaptation. That aside, I am quite pleased with the final outcome of The Bilbo Edition version of this scene. This is my favorite part of the book and I put extra care into making this sequence as thrilling as it should be, from start to finish.

Full Fan-Adaptation of The Hobbit Trilogy – The Hobbit: The Bilbo Edition