Flight to the Ford

           WhenFrodocametohimselfhewasstillclutchingtheRingdesperately.Hewaslyingbythefire,whichwasnowpiledhighandburningbrightly.Histhreecompanionswerebendingoverhim.

           ‘Whathashappened?Whereisthepaleking?’heaskedwildly.

           Theyweretoooverjoyedtohearhimspeaktoanswerforawhile;nordidtheyunderstandhisquestion.AtlengthhegatheredfromSamthattheyhadseennothingbutthevagueshadowyshapescomingtowardsthem.SuddenlytohishorrorSamfoundthathismasterhadvanished;andatthatmomentablackshadowrushedpasthim,andhefell.HeheardFrodo’svoice,butitseemedtocomefromagreatdistance,orfromundertheearth,cryingoutstrangewords.Theysawnothingmore,untiltheystumbledoverthebodyofFrodo,lyingasifdead,facedownwardsonthegrasswithhisswordbeneathhim.Striderorderedthemtopickhimupandlayhimnearthefire,andthenhedisappeared.Thatwasnowagoodwhileago.

           SamplainlywasbeginningtohavedoubtsagainaboutStrider;butwhiletheyweretalkinghereturned,appearingsuddenlyoutoftheshadows.Theystarted,andSamdrewhisswordandstoodoverFrodo;butStriderkneltdownswiftlyathisside.

           ‘IamnotaBlackRider,Sam,’hesaidgently,‘norinleaguewiththem.Ihavebeentryingtodiscoversomethingoftheirmovements;butIhavefoundnothing.Icannotthinkwhytheyhavegoneanddonotattackagain.Butthereisnofeelingoftheirpresenceanywhereathand.’