Властелин колец: Братство кольца
Flight to the Ford
TheRoadbehindheldonitswaytotheRiverBruinen,butbothwerenowhiddenfromview.Thetravellerscameintoalongvalley;narrow,deeplycloven,darkandsilent.Treeswitholdandtwistedrootshungovercliffs,andpiledupbehindintomountingslopesofpine-wood.
Thehobbitsgrewveryweary.Theyadvancedslowly,fortheyhadtopicktheirwaythroughapathlesscountry,encumberedbyfallentreesandtumbledrocks.AslongastheycouldtheyavoidedclimbingforFrodo’ssake,andbecauseitwasinfactdifficulttofindanywayupoutofthenarrowdales.Theyhadbeentwodaysinthiscountrywhentheweatherturnedwet.ThewindbegantoblowsteadilyoutoftheWestandpourthewaterofthedistantseasonthedarkheadsofthehillsinfinedrenchingrain.Bynightfalltheywereallsoaked,andtheircampwascheerless,fortheycouldnotgetanyfiretoburn.Thenextdaythehillsrosestillhigherandsteeperbeforethem,andtheywereforcedtoturnawaynorthwardsoutoftheircourse.Striderseemedtobegettinganxious:theywerenearlytendaysoutfromWeathertop,andtheirstockofprovisionswasbeginningtorunlow.Itwentonraining.
Thatnighttheycampedonastonyshelfwitharock-wallbehindthem,inwhichtherewasashallowcave,amerescoopinthecliff.Frodowasrestless.Thecoldandwethadmadehiswoundmorepainfulthanever,andtheacheandsenseofdeadlychilltookawayallsleep.
