Властелин колец: Возвращение короля
Minas Tirith
Nohangingsnorstoriedwebs,noranythingsofwovenstufforofwood,weretobeseeninthatlongsolemnhall;butbetweenthepillarstherestoodasilentcompanyoftallimagesgravenincoldstone.
SuddenlyPippinwasremindedofthehewnrocksofArgonath,andawefellonhim,ashelookeddownthatavenueofkingslongdead.Atthefarenduponadaisofmanystepswassetahighthroneunderacanopyofmarbleshapedlikeacrownedhelm;behinditwascarveduponthewallandsetwithgemsanimageofatreeinflower.Butthethronewasempty.Atthefootofthedais,upontheloweststepwhichwasbroadanddeep,therewasastonechair,blackandunadorned,andonitsatanoldmangazingathislap.Inhishandwasawhiterodwithagoldenknob.Hedidnotlookup.Solemnlytheypacedthelongfloortowardshim,untiltheystoodthreepacesfromhisfootstool.ThenGandalfspoke.
‘Hail,LordandStewardofMinasTirith,DenethorsonofEcthelion!Iamcomewithcounselandtidingsinthisdarkhour.’
Thentheoldmanlookedup.Pippinsawhiscarvenfacewithitsproudbonesandskinlikeivory,andthelongcurvednosebetweenthedarkdeepeyes;andhewasremindednotsomuchofBoromirasofAragorn.‘Darkindeedisthehour,’saidtheoldman,‘andatsuchtimesyouarewonttocome,Mithrandir.ButthoughallthesignsforebodethatthedoomofGondorisdrawingnigh,lessnowtomeisthatdarknessthanmyowndarkness.Ithasbeentoldtomethatyoubringwithyouonewhosawmysondie.Isthishe?’
‘Itis,’saidGandalf.
