They came back with viols as big as themselves, and with Thorin�s harp wrapped in a green cloth. It was a beautiful golden harp, and when Thorin struck it the music began all at once, so sudden and sweet that Bilbo forgot everything else, and was swept away into dark lands under strange moons, far over The Water and very far from his hobbit-hole under The Hill.
�An Unexpected Party�, The Hobbit
How long had it been since he and his comrades had gathered like
this, playing their instruments for the sheer joy of music -- the
ancient melodies washing away, for a time, the bitter memories and
heartsick longing that never fully left them? How many innkeepers
had welcomed his songs merely as a bit of diverting entertainment,
offering a night�s lodging or hot meal in exchange? How low the
proud sons of Durin had sunk, how nearly forgotten, how...
As he played, his thoughts swirling into dark places, Thorin
happened to glance at the hobbit. This Mr. Baggins was so
excitable and unknowing of the wide world, and so very young.
Not a hint of a beard yet graced his round face. There were no
weapons proudly displayed in this home, neither sword nor bow nor
axe; and he wore upon his simple garments no sign of any rank or
position among his people. How could his merit be judged? What did
Gandalf see in this one that he could not?
But just then, in the flickering hearth-light, he noticed
something odd. The hobbit was gazing out one of the windows into
the night. His face was flushed, his small, fidgety hands utterly
still in his lap, his breathing slow and measured. With a slight
shiver, Thorin felt the stirring of true seeing, the
rare gift that those of the royal line of Durin the Deathless
carried in their blood. With the effort of a long-unused skill, he
followed the hobbit�s thoughts as they flew beyond his comfortable
parlor and secure homeland. Mr. Baggins, his eyes suddenly aglow
with wonder, was caught and held by a vision of caverns and gems,
fire-spouting beasts, and mountains his physical eyes had never
known. Thorin felt the young one�s heart burn, his breath quicken.
Thorin sensed someone looking at him with thoughtful regard. Still
playing smoothly upon his beloved harp, he turned slightly to meet
Gandalf�s even gaze. The wizard gestured with his chin towards the
hobbit, nodded, then with a twinkle of his eye his face was once
again lost behind a curtain of smoke.
So there was more to this hobbit than met the eye. He
possessed at least the depth of spirit to be stirred by the
ancient power of Dwarvish music, and the courage to follow where
it led. So, then. Let him choose his path full willing. Let him
hear and feel what truly lay beyond his gentle land�s carefully
tilled fields and predictable lives.
And so, closing his eyes, Thorin began to sing.
�Far over the misty mountains cold
To dungeons deep and caverns old...�