Властелин колец: Братство кольца
In the House of Tom Bombadil
Hethentoldthemmanyremarkablestories,sometimeshalfasifspeakingtohimself,sometimeslookingatthemsuddenlywithabrightblueeyeunderhisdeepbrows.Oftenhisvoicewouldturntosong,andhewouldgetoutofhischairanddanceabout.Hetoldthemtalesofbeesandflowers,thewaysoftrees,andthestrangecreaturesoftheForest,abouttheevilthingsandgoodthings,thingsfriendlyandthingsunfriendly,cruelthingsandkindthings,andsecretshiddenunderbrambles.
Astheylistened,theybegantounderstandthelivesoftheForest,apartfromthemselves,indeedtofeelthemselvesasthestrangerswhereallotherthingswereathome.MovingconstantlyinandoutofhistalkwasOldManWilow,andFrodolearnednowenoughtocontenthim,indeedmorethanenough,foritwasnotcomfortablelore.Tom’swordslaidbaretheheartsoftreesandtheirthoughts,whichwereoftendarkandstrange,andfiledwithahatredofthingsthatgofreeupontheearth,gnawing,biting,breaking,hacking,burning:destroyersandusurpers.ItwasnotcaledtheOldForestwithoutreason,foritwasindeedancient,asurvivorofvastforgottenwoods;andinittherelivedyet,ageingnoquickerthanthehils,thefathersofthefathersoftrees,rememberingtimeswhentheywerelords.Thecountlessyearshadfiledthemwithprideandrootedwisdom,andwithmalice.ButnoneweremoredangerousthantheGreatWilow:hisheartwasrotten,buthisstrengthwasgreen;andhewascunning,andamasterofwinds,andhissongandthoughtranthroughthewoodsonbothsidesoftheriver.Hisgreythirstyspiritdrewpoweroutoftheearthandspreadlikefineroot-threadsintheground,andinvisibletwig-fingersintheair,tillithadunderitsdominionnearlyallthetreesoftheForestfromtheHedgetotheDowns.
SuddenlyTom’stalkleftthewoodsandwentleapinguptheyoungstream,overbubblingwaterfals,overpebblesandwornrocks,andamongsmallflowersinclosegrassandwetcrannies,wanderingatlastupontotheDowns.
