#james morris

Dogon Stilt Dancers, Bandiagara, Mopti province, Mali, circa 1970s.

“He wouldn’t make above a mouthful,” said William, who had already had a fine supper, “not when he was skinned and boned”.

“P’raps there are more like him round about, and we might make a pie,” said Bert. “Here you, are there any more of your sort a-sneakin’ in these here woods, yer nassty little rabbit,” said he looking at the hobbit’s furry feet; and he picked him up by the toes and shook him.

“Yes, lots,” said Bilbo, before he remembered not to give his friends away. “No, none at all, not one,” he said immediately afterwards.

William, Tom, & Bert plotting to eat Bilbo, The Hobbit, Roast Mutton.

Gandalf, who was a good deal taller than the others, had found a tree into which they could not climb, a large pine standing at the very edge of the glade. He was quite hidden in its boughs, but you could see his eyes gleaming in the moon as he peeped out.

And Bilbo? He could not get into any tree, and was scuttling about from trunk to trunk, like a rabbit that has lost its hole and has a dog after it. “You’ve left the burglar behind again}” said Nori to Dori looking down.

“I can’t be always carrying burglars on my back,” said Dori, “down tunnels and up trees! What do you think I am? A porter?”

“He’ll be eaten if we don’t ‘do something,” said Thorin

Thorin’s Company hiding in a tree from wolves, The Hobbit, Out of the Frying Pan into the Fire.

Soon another eagle flew up. “The Lord of the Eagles bids you to bring your prisoners to the Great Shelf,” he cried and was off again. The other seized Dori in his claws and flew away with him into the night leaving Bilbo all alone. He had just strength to wonder what the messenger had meant by ‘prisoners,’ and to begin to think of being torn up for supper like a rabbit, when his own turn came. The eagle came back, seized him in his talons by the back of his coat, and swooped off.

Bilbo being picked up by an Eagle, The Hobbit, Out of the Frying Pan into the Fire.

“Don’t pinch!” said his eagle. “You need not be frightened like a rabbit, even if you look rather like one. It is a fair morning with little wind. What is finer than flying?”

Bilbo would have liked to say: “A warm bath and late breakfast on the lawn afterwards;” but he thought it better to say nothing at all, and to let go his clutch just a tiny bit.

Bilbo riding on an Eagle. The Hobbit, Queer Lodgings.

“You! You!” cried Thorin, turning upon him and grasping him with both hands. “You miserable hobbit! You undersized-burglar!” he shouted at a loss for words, and he shook poor Bilbo like a rabbit.

“By the beard of Durin! I wish I had Gandalf here! Curse him for his choice of you! May his beard wither! As for you I will throw you to the rocks!” he cried and lifted Bilbo in his arms.

THOMAS: Hamlet | Act 2: Ô mortelle offense! Metropolitan Opera, 2010