A Long Strange Journey

Under Hill and Riddles in the Dark

"Who are these miserable persons?" said the Great Goblin. "Spies? Thieves? Assassins?"

"Dwarves,  and this, your Malevolence!" said one of the drivers, pulling at  Bilbo's chain so that he fell forward onto his knees. "We found them  sheltering on our Front Porch."

"What do you mean by it?" said the  Great Goblin turning to Thorin. "Up to no good, I'll warrant! Well,  don't just stand there! Search them! Every crack! Every crevice!" On  Nori they found several artifacts of silver and gold.

"It is my  belief, your Great Protuberance, that they are in league with Elves!"  said one of the searchers, presenting his king with a silver  candlestick.

"Made in Rivendell," read the Great Goblin upon  inspecting its base. "Ah, Second Age. Couldn't give it away," he said,  tossing it away carelessly. Upon hearing this, Bilbo and all the Dwarves  stared at Nori in disbelief. They had quite obviously been nicked.

"Just a couple of keepsakes," Nori said defensively.

"What  are you doing in these parts?" the Great Goblin demanded. Thorin moved  to answer, but Óin placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him. Seeing as  Thorin was being hunted by the orcs, it might not be a good idea for him  to draw attention to himself in this den of iniquity.

"Uh, don't worry, lads. I'll handle this," said Óin as he stepped forth.

"No tricks! I want the truth," said the Great Goblin. "Warts and all."

"You're going to have to speak up. Your boys flattened my trumpet," said Óin, holding up his squashed hearing horn as evidence.

"I'll flatten more than your trumpet!" the Great Goblin snapped, angered by the dwarf's impertinence.

"If  it's more information you want, then I'm the one you should speak to,"  Bofur said quickly, redirecting his attention before he hurt the older  dwarf.

"Mm-hm?" said the Great Goblin, wanting to hear more.

"We  were on the road. Well, it's not so much a road as a path. Actually,  it's not even that, come to think of it. It's more like a track," said  Bofur, not quite knowing what to say all at once in a moment, when  obviously the exact truth would not do at all. "Anyway, the point is we  were on this road, like a path, like a track. And then we weren't. Which  is a problem, because we were supposed to be..."

"Shut up," the Great Goblin muttered, quickly tiring of his seemingly aimless rambling.

"... in Dunland last Tuesday," Bofur finished lamely.

"Visiting distant relations," Dori chimed in helpfully.

"Some inbreds on me mother's side," Bofur added.

"Shut  up!" the Great Goblin shouted impatiently, deciding he had heard quite  enough of their ridiculous excuses already. Bofur wisely shut his mouth  this time.

"They are liars, O truly tremendous one!" said one of  the drivers. "Several of our people were struck by lightning in the  cave, when we invited these creatures to come below; and they are as  dead as stones!"

"If they will not talk, we'll make them squawk!  Bring up the Mangler! Bring up the Bone-breaker," ordered the Great  Goblin. "Start with the youngest."

"Wait!" shouted Thorin.

"Well,  well, well!" said the Great Goblin as the noble Dwarf stepped forward  to face him. "Look who it is. Thorin son of Thráin, son of Thrór, King  Under the Mountain. Oh, but I'm forgetting—you don't have a mountain,  and you're not a king, which makes you nobody, really." Several goblins  snickered mockingly. "Still, I know someone who would pay a pretty price  for your head. Just a head; nothing attached," continued the Great  Goblin with a wheezing cackle. "Perhaps you know of whom I speak. An old  enemy of yours. A pale orc, astride a white warg."