Властелин колец: Две башни
The Passage of the Marshes
Sometimeshewouldholduphishandandhaltthem,whilehewentforwardalittle,crouching,testingthegroundwithfingersortoes.ormerelylisteningwithoneearpressedtotheearth.
Itwasdrearyandwearisome.Coldclammywinterstillheldswayinthisforsakencountry.Theonlygreenwasthescumoflividweedonthedarkgreasysurfacesofthesullenwaters.Deadgrassesandrottingreedsloomedupinthemistslikeraggedshadowsoflong-forgottensummers.
Asthedayworeonthelightincreasedalittle,andthemistslifted,growingthinnerandmoretransparent.FarabovetherotandvapoursoftheworldtheSunwasridinghighandgoldennowinaserenecountrywithfloorsofdazzlingfoam,butonlyapassingghostofhercouldtheyseebelow,bleared,pale,givingnocolourandnowarmth.ButevenatthisfaintreminderofherpresenceGollumscowledandflinched.Hehaltedtheirjourney,andtheyrested,squattinglikelittlehuntedanimals,inthebordersofagreatbrownreed-thicket.Therewasadeepsilence,onlyscrapedonitssurfacesbythefaintquiverofemptyseed-plumes,andbrokengrass-bladestremblinginsmallair-movementsthattheycouldnotfeel.
’Notabird!’saidSammournfully.
`No,nobirds,’saidGollum.`Nicebirds!’Helickedhisteeth.’Nobirdshere.Therearesnakeses,wormses,thingsinthepools.Lotsofthings,lotsofnastythings.Nobirds,’heendedsadly.Samlookedathimwithdistaste.
SopassedthethirddayoftheirjourneywithGollum.
