the elves of the raft and the boatmen went to feast in Lake-town.
     They would have been surprised, if they could have seen what happened
down by the shore, after they had
     First of all a barrel was cut loose by Bilbo and pushed to the shore
and opened. Groans came from inside, and out crept a most unhappy
dwarf. Wet straw was in his draggled beard; he was so sore and stiff,
so bruised and buffeted he could hardly stand or stumble through the
shallow water to lie groaning on the shore. He had a famished and a
savage look like a dog that has been chained and forgotten in a kennel
for a week. It was Thorin, but you could only have told it by his
golden chain, and by the colour of his now dirty and tattered sky-blue
hood with its tarnished silver tassel. It was some time before he
would be even polite to the hobbit.
     “Well, are you alive or are you dead?” asked Bilbo quite crossly.
Perhaps he had forgotten that he had had at least one good meal more
than the dwarves, and also the use of his arms and legs, not to speak
of a greater allowance of air. “Are you still in prison, or are you
free? If you want food, and if you want to go on with this silly
adventure- it’s yours after all and not mine-you had better slap your
arms and rub your legs and try and help me get the others out while