Chapter I
An Unexpected Party
In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort.
It had a perfectly round door like a porthole, painted green, with a shiny yellow brass knob in the exact middle. The door opened on to a tube-shaped hall like a tunnel: a very comfortable tunnel without smoke, with panelled walls, and floors tiled and carpeted, provided with polished chairs, and lots and lots of pegs for hats and coats — the hobbit was fond of visitors. The tunnel wound on and on, going fairly but not quite straight into the side of the hill — The Hill, as all the people for many miles round called it — and many little round doors opened out of it, first on one side and then on another. No going upstairs for the hobbit: bedrooms, bathrooms, cellars, pantries (lots of these), wardrobes (he had whole rooms devoted to clothes), kitchens, dining-rooms, all were on the same floor, and indeed on the same passage. The best rooms were all on the left-hand side (going in), for these were the only ones to have windows, deep-set round windows looking over his garden and meadows beyond, sloping down to the river.
This hobbit was a very well-to-do hobbit, and his name was Baggins. The Bagginses had lived in the neighbourhood of The Hill for time out of mind, and people considered them very respectable, not only because most of them were rich, but also because they never had any adventures or did anything unexpected: you could tell what a Baggins would say on any question without the bother of asking him. This is a story of how a Baggins had an adventure, found himself doing and saying things altogether unexpected. He may have lost the neighbours’ respect, but he gained-well, you will see whether he gained anything in the end.
The mother of our particular hobbit … what is a hobbit? I suppose hobbits need some description nowadays, since they have become rare and shy of the Big People, as they call us. They are (or were) a little people, about half our height, and smaller than the bearded Dwarves. Hobbits have no beards. There is little or no magic about them, except the ordinary everyday sort which helps them to disappear quietly and quickly when large stupid folk like you and me come blundering along, making a noise like elephants which they can hear a mile off. They are inclined to be at in the stomach; they dress in bright colours (chiefly green and yellow); wear no shoes, because their feet grow natural leathery soles and thick warm brown hair like the stuff on their heads (which is curly); have long clever brown fingers, good-natured faces, and laugh deep fruity laughs (especially after dinner, which they have twice a day when they can get it). Now you know enough to go on with. As I was saying, the mother of this hobbit — of Bilbo Baggins, that is — was the fabulous Belladonna Took, one of the three remarkable daughters of the Old Took, head of the hobbits who lived across The Water, the small river that ran at the foot of The Hill. It was often said (in other families) that long ago one of the Took ancestors must have taken a fairy wife. That was, of course, absurd, but certainly there was still something not entirely hobbit-like about them, — and once in a while members of the Took-clan would go and have adventures.
John R. R. Tolkien / Джон Р. Р. Толкин
The Hobbit / Хоббит
Книга для чтения на английском языке в 10 классе общеобразовательных учебных заведений
Адаптация и словарь: И. Б. Загородняя
© Загородняя И. Б., адаптация, словарь, 2014
© ООО «Антология», 2014
An Unexpected Party
In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and a bad smell, nor yet a dry, sandy hole with nothing in it: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort.
It had a round door like a porthole, painted green with a shiny yellow brass knob in the middle. Behind the door there was a hall like a tunnel: a very comfortable tunnel without smoke. On the floor there were carpets and chairs, and on the walls there were lots of pegs for hats and coats – the hobbit liked visitors. The tunnel wound on and on, going into the side of the hill – The Hill, as all the people for many miles round called it – and many little round doors opened out of it, first on one side and then on another. Bedrooms, bathrooms, cellars, pantries, wardrobes, kitchens, dining-rooms, all were on the same floor. The best rooms were all on the left-hand side, because only they had windows, round windows looking over his garden and meadows, going down to the river.
This hobbit was a very rich hobbit, and his name was Baggins. The Bagginses had lived in the neighbourhood of The Hill for a long time, and people considered them very respectable, not only because most of them were rich, but also because they never had any adventures or did anything unexpected. This is a story of how a Baggins had an adventure, and did completely unexpected things. Maybe, as a result, he lost the neighbours’ respect, but he gained – well, you will see whether he gained anything in the end.
The mother of our hobbit… what is a hobbit? I suppose hobbits need some description nowadays, because they have become rare and shy of the Big People, as they call us. They are (or were) a little people, about half our height, and smaller than the Dwarves. Hobbits have no beards. There is little or no magic about them, but they can disappear quietly and quickly when the Big People come along, making a noise like elephants. They are often fat in the stomach; they dress in bright colours (especially green and yellow); wear no shoes, because the soles of their feet are leathery and covered with thick warm hair. They have brown curly hair on their heads, long brown fingers and friendly faces. Hobbits laugh deep fruity laughs (especially after dinner, which they have twice a day). Now you know enough. As I was saying, the mother of this hobbit – of Bilbo Baggins – was Belladonna Took, one of the three daughters of the Old Took, head of the hobbits who lived across The Water, the small river that ran at the foot of The Hill. They said that long ago one of the Tooks had a fairy wife. That was, of course, absurd, but certainly there was something strange about them, – and sometimes members of the Took-clan went away and had adventures.
Mr Bungo Baggins, Bilbo’s father, built a luxurious hobbit-hole for his wife (and partly with her money), and there they remained to the end of their days. Still it is probable that Bilbo, their only son, although he looked and behaved exactly like his father, got something a bit queer from the Tooks, something that only waited for a chance to come out. The chance never arrived, until Bilbo Baggins was grown up, about fifty years old.
One morning, when Bilbo Baggins was standing at his door after breakfast smoking a long wooden pipe, Gandalf came by. Gandalf! He had been away over The Hill on his own business since the Old Took died.
So that morning Bilbo saw an old man with a stick. He had a tall pointed blue hat, a long grey cloak, a silver scarf over which a white beard hung down below his waist, and huge black boots. “Good morning!” said Bilbo. The morning was really good: the sun was shining, and the grass was very green. But Gandalf looked at him from under long bushy eyebrows. “What do you mean?” he said. “Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not; or that you feel good this morning?”
“All of them at once,” said Bilbo. “And that’s also a very fine morning for a pipe of tobacco out of doors. If you have a pipe, sit down and let’s smoke!” Then Bilbo sat down on a seat by his door, crossed his legs, and blew out a beautiful grey ring of smoke that floated away over The Hill.
“Very pretty!” said Gandalf. “But I have no time to blow smoke-rings this morning. I am looking for a companion in an adventure that I am arranging, and it’s very difficult to find anyone.”
“Of course – in these parts! We are plain quiet folk and don’t like adventures. I can’t think what anybody sees in them,” said our Mr Baggins. Then he took out his morning letters, and began to read. He wanted Gandalf to go away. But the old man did not move. He stood leaning on his stick and gazing at the hobbit without saying anything, till Bilbo got quite uncomfortable and even a little angry.
“Good morning!” he said at last. “We don’t want any adventures here, thank you!” By this he meant that the conversation was at an end.
“Now you say ‘Good morning’ and mean that you want to get rid of me,” said Gandalf.
“Not at all, not at all, my dear sir! Let me see, do I know your name?”
“Yes, yes, my dear sir – and I know your name, Mr Bilbo Baggins. And you really know my name. I am Gandalf!”
“Gandalf, Gandalf! You are the wandering wizard that gave Old Took a pair of magic diamond studs! You are the fellow who used to tell wonderful tales at parties, about dragons and goblins and giants and the rescue of princesses! You are the man that used to make fantastic fireworks! I remember those! Splendid! You were responsible for so many quiet young hobbits that went off for mad adventures! I beg your pardon, I had no idea that you were still in business.”
“Where else should I be?” said the wizard. “But I am pleased that you remember something about me. So I will give you what you asked for.”
“I beg your pardon, I haven’t asked for anything!”
“Yes, you have! Twice now. My pardon. I give it you. In fact I will even send you on this adventure. It will be very amusing for me and very good for you too.”
“Sorry! I don’t want any adventures, thank you. Not today. But please come to tea – any time you like! Why not tomorrow? Come tomorrow! Good-bye!”
With that the hobbit turned and ran inside his round green door.
“Why did I ask him to tea?” he said to himself, as he went to the pantry. He had only just had breakfast, but he thought a cake or two and a drink of something would do him good after his fright.
Gandalf was still standing outside the door, and laughing long but quietly. Then he scratched a queer sign on the hobbit’s beautiful green front-door and went away.
The next day Bilbo almost forgot about Gandalf, but just before tea-time, when a tremendous ring on the front-door bell came, he remembered! He rushed and put on the kettle, and put out another cup and saucer and an extra cake or two, and ran to the door. “I am so sorry to keep you waiting!” he was going to say, when he saw that it was not Gandalf at all. It was a dwarf with a blue beard tucked into a golden belt, and very bright eyes under his dark-green hood. As soon as the door was opened, he pushed inside, hung his hooded cloak on the nearest peg, and “Dwalin at your service!” he said with a low bow.
Джон Толкиен биография на английском языке поможет узнать о жизни создателя «Хоббита» и «Властелина колец».
Джон Толкиен биография на английском
On January 3, 1892, John Ronald Reuel Tolkien was born in Bloemfontein, South Africa. Tolkien settled near Birmingham, England at the age of four after his father, a banker died in South Africa. He went to school at King Edward’s School in Birmingham and Exeter College. He later studied English language and literature at Oxford where he received a B.A. in 1915 and M.A. in 1919. Tolkien married his long time love, Edith Bratt in 1916. He served in the army briefly during World War I as a second lieutenant. After the War, Tolkien’s first civilian job was at The New English Dictionary better known as Oxford English Dictionary today where he worked on the history of words of Germanic origin. He spent most of his life teaching English language and literature at renowned universities such as Leeds (1920-1925) and Oxford (1925-1959). His influential 1936 lecture, Beowulf: The Monsters and the Critics opened new doors to research on Beowulf.
Inspired by mythologies and legends, Tolkien spent a lot of time writing ingenious fantasy stories. He invented his own languages to be spoken by the elfish characters in his tales. The Silmarillion, which was published in 1977 long after it’s completion is a depiction of Tolkien’s thirst for learning early languages and making up his own fantasy language.
The Hobbit (1937), which Tolkien originally wrote for his children, narrates the story of a Hobbit, a small man like creature who set out on a quest for treasure. Gaining immense popularity, the book was published again with pictures drawn by Tolkien. The publisher convinced Tolkien to write a sequel which came 17 years later in the form of The Lord of The Rings (1954-1955). Although Tolkien intended to target it towards children as a sequel to The Hobbit, instead it turned out to be more serious and attracted a grown up readership. The Lord of The Rings has topped many lists and was named The Nation’s Best Loved Book after a survey conducted by BBC in 2003. Published in three volumes namely The Fellowship of the Ring, The Two Towers, and The Return of the King were later adapted to screen by NewZealand director Peter Jackson in a series of three parts films in 2001-2003.
Some more of Tolkien’s further noted works include Farmer Giles of Ham (1949), The Adventures of Tom Bombadil and Other Verses from the Red Book (1962), Tree and Leaf (1964), Smith of Wootton Major (1967). Some of Tolkien’s incomplete work finished by his son Christopher after his death includes The Silmarillion, the “prequel” to The Lord of the Rings, Unfinished Tales of Nmenor and Middle-earth (1980) and Children of Hrin.
J. R. R. Tolkien whose legacy continues even today through his masterpieces died on September 2, 1973.