Властелин колец: Возвращение короля
The Muster of Rohan
‘No,andwillnotrisetoday,MasterHolbytla.Noreveragain,onewouldthinkunderthiscloud.Buttimedoesnotstandstill,thoughtheSunbelost.Makehaste!’
Flingingonsomeclothes,Merrylookedoutside.Theworldwasdarkling.Theveryairseemedbrown,andallthingsaboutwereblackandgreyandshadowless;therewasagreatstillness.Noshapeofcloudcouldbeseen,unlessitwerefarawaywestward,wherethefurthestgropingfingersofthegreatgloomstillcrawledonwardsandalittlelightleakedthroughthem.Overheadtherehungaheavyroof,sombreandfeatureless,andlightseemedrathertobefailingthangrowing.
Merrysawmanyfolkstanding,lookingupandmuttering:alltheirfacesweregreyandsad,andsomewereafraid.Withasinkinghearthemadehiswaytotheking.HirgontheriderofGondorwastherebeforehim,andbesidehimstoodnowanotherman,likehimanddressedalike,butshorterandbroader.AsMerryenteredhewasspeakingtotheking.
‘ItcomesfromMordor,lord,’hesaid.‘Itbeganlastnightatsunset.FromthehillsintheEastfoldofyourrealmIsawitriseandcreepacrossthesky,andallnightasIrodeitcamebehindeatingupthestars.NowthegreatcloudhangsoverallthelandbetweenhereandtheMountainsofShadow;anditisdeepening.Warhasalreadybegun.’
Forawhilethekingsatsilent.Atlasthespoke.‘Sowecometoitintheend,’hesaid:‘thegreatbattleofourtime,inwhichmanythingsshallpassaway.Butatleastthereisnolongerneedforhiding.
