risen. Bilbo’s pony began to stumble over roots and stones. They came
to the edge of a steep fall in the ground so suddenly
     “Here it is at last!” he called, and the others gathered round him and
looked over the edge. They saw a valley far below. They could hear the
voice of hurrying water in rocky bed at the bottom; the scent of trees
was in the air; and there was a light on the valley-side across the
water. Bilbo never forgot the way they slithered and slipped in the
dusk down the steep zig-zag path into the secret valley of Rivendell.
The air grew warmer as they got lower, and the smell of the pine-
trees made him drowsy, so that every now and again he nodded and
nearly fell off, or bumped his nose on the
     Their spirits rose as they went down and down. The trees changed to
beech and oak, and hire was a comfortable feeling in the twilight. The
last green had almost faded out of the grass, when they came at length
to an open glade not far above the banks of the stream.
     “Hrnmm! it smells like elves!” thought Bilbo, and he looked up at the
stars. They were burning bright and blue. Just then there came a burst
of song like laughter in the trees:
     “O! What are you doing,
     And where are you going?