The last line of the second chapter of The Hobbit made me so confused. I sat there after I read it and went for a walk to think about why it was so weird to me. And the words are just basic, boring words too. It’s nothing special. It’s the end of the three-trolls narrative when Gandalf saves the dwarves from being squashed into jelly by Tom, Bert, and William. It’s a simple line that ends the chapter where Thorin simply says, “Thank you.”
Now, I have never read a book more obsessed with good manners than The Hobbit. That might surprise you a little bit when I say that, but I assure you it’s true — at least in the first two chapters. Because I’m reading it for the first time, and at the end of Chapter 2 there is a genuine show of manners that really caught me off guard. And I’ve been looking through the text for the last few days trying to figure out why that was strange to me, and I think I’ve just discovered it. It’s because it is the first genuine show of manners in a book filled with half-hearted thanks and half-hearted hospitality.
And I want to prove this to you before I get into the importance of what Thorin’s “thank you” actually means. Because in order to understand the significance of that “thank you,” you have to understand how Tolkien has been building to this.
So let’s begin with Chapter 1, which has — I looked — around 23 instances of manners. 23! That is insane in one chapter. The chapter is almost obsessively concerned with manners and propriety from the very first conversation. And it starts with genuine manners and genuine authenticity. It’s almost like the first bookend. Bilbo, sitting on his front porch, says to a passing Gandalf, “Good morning.”
Now, this is the first article of hospitality and manners. And it’s real. Bilbo is saying this because he’s in a pleasant mood and it’s the right thing to do. He is happy and wants to wish someone passing by a good morning. And if you’ve ever been in one of those moods before and all of a sudden the person you are wishing the good morning to goes on a long tirade about what he really means — there is nothing so squashing of good manners and hospitality as that. Gandalf says, “What do you mean? Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not; or that you feel good this morning; or that it is a morning to be good on?” WILL YOU SHUT UP AND JUST SAY GOOD MORNING BACK LIKE A NORMAL PERSON, Gandalf?! He deconstructs the phrase “Good Morning” — turning a polite pleasantry into a philosophical interrogation. And it just makes me want to roll my eyes and go back into my hobbit hole and not even talk to anyone anymore.
But Bilbo doesn’t do that. He does what most of us would probably do. He digs himself into a deeper hole.
“Good morning!” he said at last. “We don’t want any adventures here, thank you! You might try over The Hill or across The Water.” By this he meant that the conversation was at an end. “What a lot of things you do use Good morning for!” said Gandalf. “Now you mean that you want to get rid of me, and that it won’t be good till I move off.” “Not at all, not at all, my dear sir! Sorry! I don’t want any adventures, thank you. Not today. Good morning! But please come to tea — any time you like! Why not tomorrow? Come tomorrow! Good-bye!” With that the hobbit turned and scuttled inside his round green door, and shut it as quickly as he dared, not to seem rude. Wizards after all are wizards. “What on earth did I ask him to tea for!” he said to himself, as he went to the pantry.
When Gandalf arrives, Bilbo is immediately calculating social obligations — he invites Gandalf to tea almost involuntarily, then kicks himself for it: “What on earth did I ask him to tea for!” He’s a slave to his own politeness.
After this, the whole first chapter is set in motion, and the dwarves start piling in.
When the dwarves start arriving, Bilbo’s internal monologue is constantly about hospitality norms. He worries the cakes might run short, and Tolkien notes that Bilbo “knew his duty and stuck to it however painful” — meaning the duty of a host. This is the most important part of this whole dialogue with manners too. In the section when Balin shows up, Tolkien notes that Bilbo says the incorrect thing. He writes:
“I see they have begun to arrive already,” he said when he caught sight of Dwalin’s green hood hanging up. He hung his red one next to it, and “Balin at your service!” he said with his hand on his breast. “Thank you!” said Bilbo with a gasp. It was not the correct thing to say, but “they have begun to arrive” had flustered him badly. He liked visitors, but he liked to know them before they arrived, and he preferred to ask them himself. He had a horrible thought that the cakes might run short, and then he — as the host: he knew his duty and stuck to it however painful — he might have to go without.
And so he keeps offering food and drink even as he’s flustered by everything that’s happening to him. The manners are almost a compulsion for him. Which is why none of this really feels genuine. Well, it is, but more so that Bilbo doesn’t want this. He’s doing this out of obligation because that’s what hobbits do. They just are overly nice at their own expense. And if they are uncomfortable, you just suck it up and deal with it because your guests are more important. This feels like hobbit culture to me.
The dwarves, by contrast, say “at your service” repeatedly, but it reads as a formal ritual greeting rather than genuine warmth. It’s like the equivalent of a firm handshake — correct but impersonal. And crucially, when they order their breakfasts at the end of the chapter, Tolkien notes they do so “without so much as a please,” which annoyed Bilbo very much. That’s a pointed detail. The dwarves observe the form of politeness without the feeling behind it. It’s just saying “thank you” to say “thank you.” It’s like when you teach your child to say thank you and there’s not a ton of real meaning behind it. It’s just rote.
And as the story progresses, these are the instances of politeness, hospitality, or manners that I found:
Bilbo manages to say “Come along in, and have some tea!” only after taking a deep breath
Balin requests beer instead of tea — “if it is all the same to you, my good sir”
More dwarves arrive; Bilbo says “What can I do for you, my dwarves?”
Fili and Kili bow and sweep off their hoods
Bilbo responds “At yours and your family’s!” — Tolkien notes he remembered his manners “this time”
The dwarves eat and drink without much acknowledgment of Bilbo as host
Bilbo asks in his “politest unpressing tones” if they’ll stay to supper
There’s also the moment when Thorin calls Bilbo “our friend and fellow conspirator” — Bilbo is so flustered by being called audacious and a conspirator that the compliment is completely lost on him. The dwarves think they’re being gracious; Bilbo experiences it as an insult.
“Gandalf, dwarves and Mr. Baggins! We are met together in the house of our friend and fellow conspirator, this most excellent and audacious hobbit — may the hair on his toes never fall out! All praise to his wine and ale!” — He paused for breath and for a polite remark from the hobbit, but the compliments were quite lost on poor Bilbo Baggins, who was wagging his mouth in protest at being called audacious and worst of all fellow conspirator, though no noise came out, he was so flummoxed. So Thorin went on.
Now this is interesting, because this seems a bit more over-the-top. It’s like showing manners to someone you just met because someone else gave a good report of them. You haven’t known them at all and cannot pay them a genuine and real compliment, but you just roll with it because that’s the standard way to do it. And I think this throws Bilbo off a little bit — as the text kind of explains.
And then there’s a moment where the dwarves all wash the dishes, which is a fascinating inversion of this idea, but still proves the point for how much this mattered to Tolkien — the dwarves sing about doing terrible, rude things to Bilbo’s beloved possessions, and then do none of them. It’s just a big joke about manners. They perform rudeness theatrically and then behave perfectly. But even that feels more like a game than genuine consideration for Bilbo.
And toward the end of the chapter, the lack of manners — or the strangeness of the manners, more like it — annoys Bilbo, so that as the dwarves are putting up their orders for breakfast, Bilbo notes they do so without so much as a thank you. This is kind of the final straw before he goes to bed. Bilbo first makes sure everyone is comfortable, but again it’s all hospitality based not on respect but on obligation. And that is no way to really lead a group of people. There must be respect gained.
In the beginning of the next chapter, Bilbo wakes up to find the kitchen in disarray. This is the ULTIMATE act of improper manners. I was always taught that you leave a place better than you found it. The dwarves are rude. And they have no real manners. And the manners they do show aren’t based on any real respect for Bilbo, but rather on the idea that they just must show manners.
That is until the end of the chapter, when Bilbo doesn’t really gain their trust, but the first bit of genuine manners — born out of respect — is shown to Gandalf. The book says:
“I immediately had a feeling that I was wanted back. Looking behind I saw a fire in the distance and made for it. So now you know. Please be more careful next time, or we shall never get anywhere!” “Thank you!” said Thorin.
And there I was, reading that with a shocked expression on my face, because it was the first bit of genuineness in the whole book so far. It’s the first unforced, non-transactional expression of gratitude in two chapters. The dwarves’ “at your service” is ritual. Bilbo’s politeness is compulsive. But Thorin’s “Thank you” comes after a moment of real vulnerability — they were all nearly killed, Gandalf saved them, and Thorin, who is described repeatedly as haughty and important, acknowledges his need for help by saying “thank you” to Gandalf. For a character Tolkien has painted as proud and formal, it hits differently.
You could argue Tolkien is quietly showing us that Thorin, beneath all the grandeur, is capable of real grace — and that it takes nearly being boiled alive to get it out of him. But I think this is one of Tolkien’s best attributes as a character writer. He’s just so good at giving his characters a backstory or a small little bit of good underneath the bad. Or even a small amount of weakness underneath all the good. People who say Tolkien’s characters are all black and white don’t know what they’re talking about, or they just don’t read Tolkien. He is all about conflict in his characters — even if it’s the smallest little modicum of fear or doubt or regret or goodness. None of his evil characters feel totally irredeemable, and none of his good characters feel like they are incapable of falling. And Thorin here is a haughty character who in this moment shows real humility. I think that’s a huge area of growth for him, and it’s why this “thank you” at the end of the chapter feels so important. It’s a small change in a character and in the tone of the novel so far — someone shedding their exterior and showing what they are truly made of. We’ll see if it lasts for Thorin.
But that’s all I’ve got for you today.
