Властелин колец: Братство кольца
Flight to the Ford
AtthispointtheRoadhadlefttheHoarwellfarbehindinitsnarrowvalley,andnowclungclosetothefeetofthehills,rollingandwindingeastwardamongwoodsandheather-coveredslopestowardstheFordandtheMountains.NotfardownthebankStriderpointedoutastoneinthegrass.Onitroughlycutandnowmuchweatheredcouldstillbeseendwarf-runesandsecretmarks.
‘There!’saidMerry.‘Thatmustbethestonethatmarkedtheplacewherethetrolls’goldwashidden.HowmuchisleftofBilbo’sshare,Iwonder,Frodo?’
Frodolookedatthestone,andwishedthatBilbohadbroughthomenotreasuremoreperilous,norlesseasytopartwith.‘Noneatall,’hesaid.‘Bilbogaveitallaway.Hetoldmehedidnotfeelitwasreallyhis,asitcamefromrobbers.’
TheRoadlayquietunderthelongshadowsofearlyevening.Therewasnosignofanyothertravellerstobeseen.Astherewasnownootherpossiblecourseforthemtotake,theyclimbeddownthebank,andturningleftwentoffasfastastheycould.Soonashoulderofthehillscutoffthelightofthefastwesteringsun.Acoldwindfloweddowntomeetthemfromthemountainsahead.
TheywerebeginningtolookoutforaplaceofftheRoad,wheretheycouldcampforthenight,whentheyheardasoundthatbroughtsuddenfearbackintotheirhearts:thenoiseofhoofsbehindthem.Theylookedback,buttheycouldnotseefarbecauseofthemanywindingsandrollingsoftheRoad.
