They had barely time to fly back to the tunnel, pulling and dragging in their bundles, when Smaug came hurtling from the North, licking the mountain — sides with flame, beating his great wings with a noise like a roaring wind. His hot breath shrivelled the grass before the door, and drove in through the crack they had left and scorched them as they lay hid. Flickering fires leaped up and black rock-shadows danced. Then darkness fell as he passed again. The ponies screamed with terror, burst their ropes and galloped wildly off. The dragon swooped and turned to pursue them, and was gone. “That’ll be the end of our poor beasts!” said Thorin.
“Nothing can escape Smaug once he sees it. Here we are and here we shall have to stay, unless any one fancies tramping the long open miles back to the river with Smaug on the watch!”
It was not a pleasant thought! They crept further down the tunnel, and there they lay and shivered though it was warm and stuffy, until dawn came pale through the crack of the door. Every now and again through the night they could hear the roar of the flying dragon grow and then pass and fade, as he hunted round and round the mountain-sides.
He guessed from the ponies (по пони он догадался), and from the traces of the camps (и по следам лагерей) he had discovered (он обнаружил), that men had come up from the river and the lake (что люди пришли от реки и озера) and had scaled the mountain-side from the valley (и взобрались по склону горы из долины;
He would not forget or forgive the theft (но он не забыл бы и не простил бы воровства), not if a thousand years turned him to smouldering stone (/не забыл бы/, даже если бы тысяча лет /ожидания/ превратила бы его самого в тлеющий камень;
bay [beɪ] vain [veɪn] smoulder [ˈsmǝʋldǝ]