Властелин колец: Две башни
The Road to Isengard
Theairabovewasheavywithfog,andareeklayonthelandaboutthem.Theywentslowly,ridingnowuponthehighway.Itwasbroadandhard,andwell-tended.Dimlythroughthemiststheycoulddescrythelongarmofthemountainsrisingontheirleft.TheyhadpassedintoNanCurunír,theWizard’sVale.Thatwasashelteredvalley,openonlytotheSouth.Onceithadbeenfairandgreen,andthroughittheIsenflowed,alreadydeepandstrongbeforeitfoundtheplains;foritwasfedbymanyspringsandlesserstreamsamongtherain-washedhills.andallaboutittherehadlainapleasant,fertileland.
Itwasnotsonow.BeneaththewallsofIsengardtherestillwereacrestilledbytheslavesofSaruman;butmostofthevalleyhadbecomeawildernessofweedsandthorns.Bramblestrailedupontheground,orclamberingoverbushandbank,madeshaggycaveswheresmallbeastshoused.Notreesgrewthere;butamongtherankgrassescouldstillbeseentheburnedandaxe-hewnstumpsofancientgroves.Itwasasadcountry,silentnowbutforthestonynoiseofquickwaters.Smokesandsteamsdriftedinsullencloudsandlurkedinthehollows.Theridersdidnotspeak.Manydoubtedintheirhearts,wonderingtowhatdismalendtheirjourneyled.
Aftertheyhadriddenforsomemiles,thehighwaybecameawidestreet,pavedwithgreatflatstones,squaredandlaidwithskill;nobladeofgrasswasseeninanyjoint.Deepgutters,filledwithtricklingwater.randownoneitherside.Suddenlyatallpillarloomedupbeforethem.
