jrt.the hobbit-第38章

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　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。
　Fire　leaped　from　thatched　roofs　and　wooden　beam…ends　as　he　hurtled　down　and　past　and　round　again；　though　all　had　been　drenched　with　water　before　he　came。　Once　more　water　was　flung　by　a　hundred　hands　wherever　a　spark　appeared。　　Back　swirled　the　dragon。　A　sweep　of　his　tail　and　the　roof　of　the　Great　House　crumbled　and　smashed　down。　Flames　unquenchable　sprang　high　into　the　night。　　Another　swoop　and　another；　and　another　house　and　then　another　sprang　afire　and　fell；　and　still　no　arrow　hindered　Smaug　or　hurt　him　more　than　a　fly　from　the　marshes。　Already　men　were　jumping　into　the　water　on　every　side。　Women　and　children　were　being　huddled　into　laden　boats　in　the　market…pool。　Weapons　were　flung　down。　There　was　mourning　and　weeping；　where　but　a　little　time　ago　the　old　songs　of　mirth　to　e　had　been　sung　about　the　dwarves。　Now　men　cursed　their　names。　The　Master　himself　was　turning　to　his　great　gilded　boat；　hoping　to　row　away　in　the　confusion　and　save　himself。　Soon　all　the　town　would　be　deserted　and　burned　down　to　the　surface　of　the　lake。　That　was　the　dragon's　hope。　They　could　all　get　into　boats　for　all　he　cared。　There　he　could　have　fine　sport　hunting　them；　or　they　could　stop　till　they　starved。　Let　them　try　to　get　to　land　and　he　would　be　ready。　Soon　he　would　set　all　the　shoreland　woods　ablaze　and　wither　every　field　and　pasture。　Just　now　he　was　enjoying　the　sport　of　town…baiting　more　than　he　had　enjoyed　anything　for　years。　But　there　was　still　a　pany　of　archers　that　held　their　ground　among　the　burning　houses。　　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　panions　were　leaving　him。　He　bent　his　bow　for　the　last　time。　Suddenly　out　of　the　dark　something　fluttered　to　his　shoulder。　He　started…but　it　was　only　an　old　thrush。　Unafraid　it　perched　by　his　ear　and　it　brought　him　news。　Marvelling　he　found　he　could　understand　its　tongue；　for　he　was　of　the　race　of　Dale。
　〃Wait！　Wait！〃　it　said　to　him。　〃The　moon　is　rising。　Look　for　the　hollow　of　the　left　breast　as　he　flies　and　turns　above　you！〃　And　while　Bard　paused　in　wonder　it　told　him　of　tidings　up　in　the　Mountain　and　of　all　that　it　had　heard。　　Then　Bard　drew　his　bow…string　to　his　ear。　The　dragon　was　circling　back；　flying　low；　and　as　he　came　the　moon　rose　above　the　eastern　shore　and　silvered　his　great　wings。
　〃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。　The　waxing　moon　rose　higher　and　higher　and　the　wind　grew　loud　and　cold。　It　twisted　the　white　fog　into　bending　pillars　and　hurrying　clouds　and　drove　it　off　to　the　West　to　scatter　in　tattered　shreds　over　the　marshes　before　Mirkwood。　Then　the　many　boats　could　be　seen　dotted　dark　on　the　surface　of　the　lake；　and　down　the　wind　came　the　voices　of　the　people　of　Esgaroth　lamenting　their　lost　town　and　goods　and　ruined　houses。　But　they　had　really　much　to　be　thankful　for；　had　they　thought　of　it；　though　it　could　hardly　be　expected　that　they　should　just　then：　three　quarters　of　the　people　of　the　town　had　at　least　escaped　alive；　their　woods　and　fields　and　pastures　and　cattle　and　most　of　their　boats　remained　undamaged；　and　the　dragon　was　dead。　What　that　meant　they　had　not　yet　realized。　　They　gathered　in　mournful　crowds　upon　the　western　shores；　shivering　in　the　cold　wind；　and　their　first　plaints　and　anger　were　against　the　Master；　who　had　left　the　town　so　soon；　while　some　were　still　willing　to　defend　it。　　〃He　may　have　a　good　head　for　business…especially　his　own　business；〃　some　murmured；　〃but　he　is　no　good　when　anything　serious　happens！〃　And　they　praised　the　courage　of　Bard　and　his　last　mighty　shot。　〃If　only　he　had　not　been　killed；〃　they　all　said；　〃we　would　make　him　a　king。　Bard　the　Dragon…shooter　of　the　line　of　Girion！　Alas　that　he　is　lost！〃
　And　in　the　very　midst　of　their　talk；　a　tall　figure　stepped　from　the　shadows。　He　was　drenched　with　water；　his　black　hair　hung　wet　over　his　face　and　shoulders；　and　a　fierce　light　was　in　his　eyes。
　〃Bard　is　not　lost！〃　he　cried。　〃He　dived　from　Esgaroth；　when　the　enemy　was　slain。　I　am　Bard；　of　the　line　of　Girion；　I　am　the　slayer　of　the　dragon！〃　〃King　Bard！　King　Bard！〃　they　shouted；　but　the　Master　ground　his　chattering　teeth。
　〃Girion　was　lord　of　Dale；　not　king　of　Esgaroth；〃　he　said。　〃In　the　Lake…town　we　have　always　elected　masters　from　among　the　old　and　wise；　and　have　not　endured　the　rule　of　mere　fighting　men。　Let　'King　Bard'　go　back　to　his　own　kingdom…Dale　is　now　freed　by　his　valour；　and　nothing　binders　his　return。　And　any　that　wish　can　go　with　him；　if　they　prefer　the　cold　shores　under　the　shadow　of　the　Mountain　to　the　green　shores　of　the　lake。　The　wise　will　stay　here　and　hope　to　rebuild　our　town；　and　enjoy　again　in　time　its　peace　and　riches。〃　〃We　will　have　King　Bard！〃　the　people　near　at　hand　shouted　in　reply。　〃We　have　had　enough　of　the　old　men　and　the　money…counters！〃　And　people　further　off　took　up　the　cry：　〃Up　the　Bowman；　and　down　with　Moneybags；〃　till　the　clamour　echoed　along　the　shore。
　〃I　am　the　last　man　to　undervalue　Bard　the　Bowman；〃　said　the　Master　warily　（for　Bard　now　stood　close　beside　him）。　〃He　has　tonight　earned　an　eminent　place　in　the　roll　of　the　benefactors　of　our　town；　and　he　is　worthy　of　many　imperishable　songs。　But；　why　O　People？〃…and　here　the　Master　rose　to　his　feet　and　spoke　very　loud　and　clear　…　〃why　do　I　get　all　your　blame？　For　what　fault　am　I　to　be　deposed？　Who　aroused　the　dragon　from　his　slumber；　I　might　ask？　Who　obtained　of　us　rich　gifts　and　ample　help；　and　led　us　to　believe　that　old　songs　could　e　true？　Who　played　on　our　soft　hearts　and　our　pleasant　fancies？　What　sort　of　gold　have　they　sent　down　the　river　to　reward　us？　Dragon…fire　and　ruin！　　From　whom　should　we　claim　the　repense　of　our　damage；　and　aid　for　our　widows　and　orphans？〃
　As　you　see；　the　Master　had　not　got　his　position　for　nothing。　The　result　of　his　words　was　that　for　the　moment　the　people　quite　forgot　their　idea　of　a　new　king；　and　turned　their　angry　thoughts　towards　Thorin　and　his　pany。　Wild　and　bitter　words　were　shouted　from　many　sides；　and　some　of　those　who　had　before　sung　the　old　songs　loudest；　were　now　heard　as　loudly　crying　that　the　dwarves　had　stirred　the　dragon　up　against　them　deliberately！　　〃Fools！〃　said　Bard。　〃Why　waste　words　and　wrath　on　those　unhappy　creatures？　Doubtless　they　perished　first　in　fire；　before　Smaug　came　to　us。〃　Then　even　as　he　was　speaking；　the　thought　came　into　his　heart　of　the　fabled　treasure　of　the　Mountain　lying　without　guard　or　owner；　and　he　fell　suddenly　silent。　He　thought　of　the　Master's　words；　and　of　Dale　rebuilt；　and　filled　with　golden　bells；　if　he　could　but　find　the　men。
　At　length　he　spoke　again：　〃This　is　no　time　for　angry　words。　Master；　or　for　considering　weighty　plans　of　change。　There　is　work　to　do。　I　serve　you　still…though　after　a　while　I　may　think　again　of　your　words　and　go　North　with　any　that　will　follow　me。〃
　Then　he　strode　off　to　help　in　the　ordering　of　the　camps　and　in　the　care　of　the　sick　and　the　wounded。　But　the　Master　scowled　at　his　back　as　he　went；　and　remained　sitting　on　the　ground。　He　thought　much　but　said　little；　unless　it　was　to　call　loudly　for　men　to　bring　him　fire　and　food。　Now　everywhere　Bard　went　he　found　talk　running　like　fire　among　the　people　concerning　the　vast　treasure　that　was　now　unguarded。　Men　spoke　of　the　repense　for　all　their　harm　that　they　would　soon　get　from　it；　and　wealth　over　and　to　spare　with　which　to　buy　rich　things　from　the　South；　and　it　cheered　them　greatly　in　their　plight。　That　was　as　well；　for　the　night　was　bitter　and　miserable。　Shelters　could　be　contrived　for　few　（the　Master　had　one）　and　there　was　little　food　（even　the　Master　went　short）。　Many　took　ill　of　wet　and　cold　and　sorrow　that　night；　and　afterwards　died；　who　had　escaped　uninjured　from　the　ruin　of　the　town；　and　in　the　days　that　followed　there　was　much　sickness　and　great　hunger。　　Meanwhile　Bard　took　the　lead；　and　ordered　things　as　he　wished；　though　always　in　the　Master's　name；　and　he　had　a　hard　task　to　govern　the　people　and　direct　the　preparations　for　their　protection　and　housing。　Probably　most　of　them　would　have　perished　in　the　winter　that　now　hurried　after　autumn；　if　help　had　not　been　to　hand。　But　help　came　swiftly；　for　Bard　at　once　had　speedy　messengers　sent　up　the　river　to　the　Forest　to　ask　the　aid　of　the　King　of　the　Elves　of　the　Wood；　and　these　messengers　had　found　a　host　already　on　the　move；　although　it　was　then　only　the　third　day　after　the　fall　of　Smaug。　　The　Elvenking　had　received　news　from　his　own　messengers　and　from　the　birds　that　loved　his　folk；　and　already　knew　much　of　what　had　happened。　Very　great　indeed　was　the　motion　among　all　things　with　wings　that　dwelt　on　the　borders　of　the　Desolation　of　the　Dragon。　The　air　was　filled　with　circling　flocks；　and　their　swift…flying　messengers　flew　here　and　there　across　the　sky。　　Above　the　borders　of　the　Forest　there　was　whistling；　crying　and　piping。　Far　over　Mirkwood　tidings　spread：　〃Smaug　is　dead！〃　Leaves　rustled　and　startled　ears　were　lifted。　Even　before　the　Elvenking