'There lies all that is left of Dale,' said Balin. Its bank was bare and rocky, tall and steep above the stream and gazing out from it over the narrow water, foaming and splashing among many boulders, they could see in the wide valley shadowed by the Mountain's arms the grey ruins of ancient houses, towers, and walls. There the river, after winding a wide loop over the valley of Dale, turned from the Mountain on its road to the Lake, flowing swift and noisily. They marched under the grey and silent cliffs to the feet of Ravenhill. For this purpose he chose Balin and Fili and Kili, and with them went Bilbo. On this there had been an old watch-post but they dared not climb it yet, it was too exposed.Д«efore setting out to search the western spurs of the Mountain for the hidden door, on which all their hopes rested, Thorin sent out a scouting expedition to spy out the land to the South where the Front Gate stood. They made their first camp on the western side of the great southern spur, which ended in a height called Ravenhill. The Mountain lay dark and silent before them and ever higher above them. They reached the skirts of the Mountain all the same without meeting any danger or any sign of the Dragon other than the wilderness he had made about his lair. They were come to the Desolation of the Dragon, and they were come at the waning of the year. There was little grass, and before long there was neither bush nor tree, and only broken and blackened stumps to speak of ones long vanished. The land about them grew bleak and barren, though once, as Thorin told them, it had been green and fair. They knew that they were drawing near to the end of their journey, and that it might be a very horrible end. There was no laughter or song or sound of harps, and the pride and hopes which had stirred in their hearts at the singing of old songs by the lake died away to a plodding gloom. It was a weary journey, and a quiet and stealthy one. They made North-West, slanting away from the River Running, and drawing ever nearer and nearer to a great spur of the Mountain that was flung out southwards towards them. Balin and Bilbo rode behind, each leading another pony heavily laden beside him the others were some way ahead picking out a slow road, for there were no paths. They spent a cold and lonely night and their spirits fell. So their escort left them, making off swiftly down the river and the shoreward paths, although the night was already drawing on. Indeed their stores had no need of any guard, for all the land was desolate and empty. It was easier to believe in the Dragon and less easy to believe in Thorin in these wild parts. 'Not at any rate until the songs have come true!' said they. They packed what they could on the ponies and the rest was made into a store under a tent, but none of the men of the town would stay with them even for the night so near the shadow of the Mountain. Here they were joined by the horses with other provisions and necessaries and the ponies for their own use that had been sent to meet them. At the end of the third day, some miles up the river, they drew in to the left or western bank and disembarked. The stream was strong and their going slow. In two days going they rowed right up the Long Lake and passed out into the River Running, and now they could all see the Lonely Mountain towering grim and tall before them.

Crack open a cold one hobbit