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- Джон Толкин
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- Властелин колец: Братство кольца
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- Стр. 122/422
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There
was
no
answer
.
Fear
took
him
,
and
he
ran
back
past
the
stones
shouting
wildly
:
'
Sam
!
Sam
!
Merry
!
Pippin
!
'
The
pony
bolted
into
the
mist
and
vanished
.
From
some
way
off
,
or
so
it
seemed
,
he
thought
he
heard
a
cry
:
'
Hoy
!
Frodo
!
Hoy
!
'
It
was
away
eastward
,
on
his
left
as
he
stood
under
the
great
stones
,
staring
and
straining
into
the
gloom
.
He
plunged
off
in
the
direction
of
the
call
,
and
found
himself
going
steeply
uphill
.
As
he
struggled
on
he
called
again
,
and
kept
on
calling
more
and
more
frantically
;
but
he
heard
no
answer
for
some
time
,
and
then
it
seemed
faint
and
far
ahead
and
high
above
him
.
'
Frodo
!
Hoy
!
'
came
the
thin
voices
out
of
the
mist
:
and
then
a
cry
that
sounded
like
help
,
help
!
often
repeated
,
ending
with
a
last
help
!
that
trailed
off
into
a
long
wail
suddenly
cut
short
.
He
stumbled
forward
with
all
the
speed
he
could
towards
the
cries
;
but
the
light
was
now
gone
,
and
clinging
night
had
closed
about
him
,
so
that
it
was
impossible
to
be
sure
of
any
direction
.
He
seemed
all
the
time
to
be
climbing
up
and
up
.
Only
the
change
in
the
level
of
the
ground
at
his
feet
told
him
when
he
at
last
came
to
the
top
of
a
ridge
or
hill
.
He
was
weary
,
sweating
and
yet
chilled
.
It
was
wholly
dark
.
'
Where
are
you
?
'
he
cried
out
miserably
.
There
was
no
reply
.
He
stood
listening
.
He
was
suddenly
aware
that
it
was
getting
very
cold
,
and
that
up
here
a
wind
was
beginning
to
blow
,
an
icy
wind
.
A
change
was
coming
in
the
weather
.
The
mist
was
flowing
past
him
now
in
shreds
and
tatters
.
His
breath
was
smoking
,
and
the
darkness
was
less
near
and
thick
.
He
looked
up
and
saw
with
surprise
that
faint
stars
were
appearing
overhead
amid
the
strands
of
hurrying
cloud
and
fog
.
The
wind
began
to
hiss
over
the
grass
.
He
imagined
suddenly
that
he
caught
a
muffled
cry
,
and
he
made
towards
it
;
and
even
as
he
went
forward
the
mist
was
rolled
up
and
thrust
aside
,
and
the
starry
sky
was
unveiled
.
A
glance
showed
him
that
he
was
now
facing
southwards
and
was
on
a
round
hill-top
,
which
he
must
have
climbed
from
the
north
.
Out
of
the
east
the
biting
wind
was
blowing
.
To
his
right
there
loomed
against
the
westward
stars
a
dark
black
shape
.
A
great
barrow
stood
there
.
'
Where
are
you
?
'
he
cried
again
,
both
angry
and
afraid
.
'
Here
!
'
said
a
voice
,
deep
and
cold
,
that
seemed
to
come
out
of
the
ground
.
'
I
am
waiting
for
you
!
'
'
No
!
'
said
Frodo
;
but
he
did
not
run
away
.
His
knees
gave
,
and
he
fell
on
the
ground
.
Nothing
happened
,
and
there
was
no
sound
.
Trembling
he
looked
up
,
in
time
to
see
a
tall
dark
figure
like
a
shadow
against
the
stars
.
It
leaned
over
him
.
He
thought
there
were
two
eyes
,
very
cold
though
lit
with
a
pale
light
that
seemed
to
come
from
some
remote
distance
.
Then
a
grip
stronger
and
colder
than
iron
seized
him
.
The
icy
touch
froze
his
bones
,
and
he
remembered
no
more
.
