West, for word has gone out that Smaug is dead! Dead! Dead? shouted
the dwarves. Dead! Then we have been in needless fear-and the treasure
is ours!
They all sprang up and began to caper about for joy.
Yes, dead, said Rac. The thrush, may his feathers never fall, saw
him die, and we may trust his words. He saw him fall in battle with the
men of Esgaroth the third night back from now at the rising of the
moon. It was some time before Thorin could bring the dwarves to be
silent and listen to the ravens news. At length when he had told all
the tale of the battle he went on:
So much for joy, Thorin Oakenshield. You may go back to your halls
in safety; all the treasure is yours-for the moment. But many are
gathering hither beside the birds. The news of the death of the guardian
has already gone far and wide, and the legend of the wealth of Thror has
not lost in the telling during many years; many are eager for a share of
the spoil. Already a host of the elves is on the way, and carrion birds