Властелин колец: Братство кольца
Fog on the Barrow-Downs
Ashelaythere,thinkingandgettingaholdofhimself,henoticedallatoncethatthedarknesswasslowlygivingway:apalegreenishlightwasgrowingroundhim.Itdidnotatfirstshowhimwhatkindofaplacehewasin,forthelightseemedtobecomingoutofhimself,andfromthefloorbesidehim,andhadnotyetreachedtherooforwall.Heturned,andthereinthecoldglowhesawlyingbesidehimSam,Pippin,andMerry.Theywereontheirbacks,andtheirfaceslookeddeathlypale;andtheywerecladinwhite.Aboutthemlaymanytreasures,ofgoldmaybe,thoughinthatlighttheylookedcoldandunlovely.Ontheirheadswerecirclets,goldchainswereabouttheirwaists,andontheirfingersweremanyrings.Swordslaybytheirsides,andshieldswereattheirfeet.Butacrosstheirthreeneckslayonelongnakedsword.
Suddenlyasongbegan:acoldmurmur,risingandfalling.Thevoiceseemedfarawayandimmeasurablydreary,sometimeshighintheairandthin,sometimeslikealowmoanfromtheground.Outoftheformlessstreamofsadbuthorriblesounds,stringsofwordswouldnowandagainshapethemselves:grim,hard,coldwords,heartlessandmiserable.Thenightwasrailingagainstthemorningofwhichitwasbereaved,andthecoldwascursingthewarmthforwhichithungered.Frodowaschilledtothemarrow.
