There were many paths that led up into those mountains, and many passes over them. But most of the paths were cheats and deceptions and led nowhere or to bad ends; and most of the passes were infested by evil things and dreadful dangers. The dwarves and the hobbit, helped by the wise advice of Elrond and the knowledge and memory of Gandalf, took the right road to the right pass.
Long days after they had climbed out of the valley and left the Last Homely House miles behind, they were still going up and up and up. It was a hard path and a dangerous path, a crooked way and a lonely and a long. Now they could look back over the lands they had left, laid out behind them far below. Far, far away in the West, where things were blue and faint, Bilbo knew there lay his own country of safe and comfortable things, and his little hobbit-hole. He shivered. It was getting bitter cold up here, and the wind came shrill among the rocks. Boulders, too, at times came galloping down the mountain — sides, let loose by midday sun upon the snow, and passed among them (which was lucky), or over their heads (which was alarming).
The nights were comfortless and chill (ночи были неуютными и холодными), and they did not dare to sing (и они не осмеливались петь) or talk too loud (или разговаривать слишком громко), for the echoes were uncanny (так как эхо было жутким), and the silence seemed to dislike being broken (и тишине, как казалось не нравилось, когда ее нарушали) — except by the noise of water (кроме как шумом воды) and the wail of wind (или завываниями ветра) and the crack of stone (или треском камней).
“The summer is getting on (лето продолжается) down below (там, внизу), ” thought Bilbo (думал Бильбо), “and haymaking is going on (и сенокос продолжается;
And the others were thinking equally gloomy thoughts (и другие думали такие же мрачные мысли), although when they had said good-bye to Elrond (хотя, когда они попрощались с Элрондом) in the high hope of a midsummer morning (в больших надеждах утра дня летнего солнцестояния;
harvesting ['h: vst] haymaking ['hemek] blackberry ['blaekb r]
The nights were comfortless and chill, and they did not dare to sing or talk too loud, for the echoes were uncanny, and the silence seemed to dislike being broken-except by the noise of water and the wail of wind and the crack of stone.
“The summer is getting on down below, ” thought Bilbo, “and haymaking is going on and picnics. They will be harvestin gand blackberrying, before we even begin to go down the other side at this rate. ”