the valley of Dale, turned from the Mountain on its road to the Lake,
flowing swift and noisily. Its bank was bare and rocky, tall and steep
above the stream; and gazing out from it over the narrow water,
foaming and splashing among many boulders, they could see in the wide
valley shadowed by the Mountain’s arms the grey ruins of ancient
houses, towers, and walls.
     “There lies all that is left of Dale,” said Balin. “The mountain’s
sides were green with woods and all the sheltered valley rich and
pleasant in the days when the bells rang in that town.” He looked both
sad and grim
     They did not dare to follow the river much further to. wards the Gate;
but they went on beyond the end of the southern spur, until lying
hidden behind a rock they could look out and see the dark cavernous
opening in a great cliff-wall between the arms of the Mountain. Out of
it the waters of the Running River sprang; and out of it too there
     Nothing moved in the waste, save the vapour and the water, and every
now and again a black and ominous crow. The only sound was the sound
of the stony water, and every now and
     “Let us return!” he said. “We can do no good here!- And I don’t like
these dark birds, they look like spies of evil.”