Властелин колец: Братство кольца
Flight to the Ford
‘Whatisthematterwithmymaster?’askedSaminalowvoice,lookingappealinglyatStrider.‘Hiswoundwassmall,anditisalreadyclosed.There’snothingtobeseenbutacoldwhitemarkonhisshoulder.’
‘FrodohasbeentouchedbytheweaponsoftheEnemy,’saidStrider,‘andthereissomepoisonorevilatworkthatisbeyondmyskilltodriveout.Butdonotgiveuphope,Sam!’
Nightwascolduponthehighridge.Theylitasmallfiredownunderthegnarledrootsofanoldpine,thathungoverashallowpit:itlookedasifstonehadoncebeenquarriedthere.Theysathuddledtogether.Thewindblewchillthroughthepass,andtheyheardthetree-topslowerdownmoaningandsighing.Frodolayhalfinadream,imaginingthatendlessdarkwingsweresweepingbyabovehim,andthatonthewingsrodepursuersthatsoughthiminallthehollowsofthehills.
Themorningdawnedbrightandfair;theairwasclean,andthelightpaleandclearinarain-washedsky.Theirheartswereencouraged,buttheylongedforthesuntowarmtheircoldstifflimbs.Assoonasitwaslight,StridertookMerrywithhimandwenttosurveythecountryfromtheheighttotheeastofthepass.Thesunhadrisenandwasshiningbrightlywhenhereturnedwithmorecomfortingnews.Theywerenowgoingmoreorlessintherightdirection.Iftheywenton,downthefurthersideoftheridge,theywouldhavetheMountainsontheirleft.
