the figures of the dwarves round it cooking and making a fine roasting
smell. The eagles had brought up dry boughs for fuel, and they had
brought rabbits, hares, and a small sheep. The dwarves managed all the
preparations. Bilbo was too weak to help, and anyway he was not much
good at skinning rabbits or cutting up meat, being used to having it
delivered by 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 Bilbo’s 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