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- Джон Толкин
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- Властелин колец: Братство кольца
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- Стр. 123/422
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When
he
came
to
himself
again
,
for
a
moment
he
could
recall
nothing
except
a
sense
of
dread
.
Then
suddenly
he
knew
that
he
was
imprisoned
,
caught
hopelessly
;
he
was
in
a
barrow
.
A
Barrow-wight
had
taken
him
,
and
he
was
probably
already
under
the
dreadful
spells
of
the
Barrow-wights
about
which
whispered
tales
spoke
.
He
dared
not
move
,
but
lay
as
he
found
himself
:
flat
on
his
back
upon
a
cold
stone
with
his
hands
on
his
breast
.
But
though
his
fear
was
so
great
that
it
seemed
to
be
part
of
the
very
darkness
that
was
round
him
,
he
found
himself
as
he
lay
thinking
about
Bilbo
Baggins
and
his
stories
,
of
their
jogging
along
together
in
the
lanes
of
the
Shire
and
talking
about
roads
and
adventures
.
There
is
a
seed
of
courage
hidden
(
often
deeply
,
it
is
true
)
in
the
heart
of
the
fattest
and
most
timid
hobbit
,
waiting
for
some
final
and
desperate
danger
to
make
it
grow
.
Frodo
was
neither
very
fat
nor
very
timid
;
indeed
,
though
he
did
not
know
it
,
Bilbo
(
and
Gandalf
)
had
thought
him
the
best
hobbit
in
the
Shire
.
He
thought
he
had
come
to
the
end
of
his
adventure
,
and
a
terrible
end
,
but
the
thought
hardened
him
.
He
found
himself
stiffening
,
as
if
for
a
final
spring
;
he
no
longer
felt
limp
like
a
helpless
prey
.
As
he
lay
there
,
thinking
and
getting
a
hold
of
himself
,
he
noticed
all
at
once
that
the
darkness
was
slowly
giving
way
:
a
pale
greenish
light
was
growing
round
him
.
It
did
not
at
first
show
him
what
kind
of
a
place
he
was
in
,
for
the
light
seemed
to
be
coming
out
of
himself
,
and
from
the
floor
beside
him
,
and
had
not
yet
reached
the
roof
or
wall
.
He
turned
,
and
there
in
the
cold
glow
he
saw
lying
beside
him
Sam
,
Pippin
,
and
Merry
.
They
were
on
their
backs
,
and
their
faces
looked
deathly
pale
;
and
they
were
clad
in
white
.
About
them
lay
many
treasures
,
of
gold
maybe
,
though
in
that
light
they
looked
cold
and
unlovely
.
On
their
heads
were
circlets
,
gold
chains
were
about
their
waists
,
and
on
their
fingers
were
many
rings
.
Swords
lay
by
their
sides
,
and
shields
were
at
their
feet
.
But
across
their
three
necks
lay
one
long
naked
sword
.
Suddenly
a
song
began
:
a
cold
murmur
,
rising
and
falling
.
The
voice
seemed
far
away
and
immeasurably
dreary
,
sometimes
high
in
the
air
and
thin
,
sometimes
like
a
low
moan
from
the
ground
.
Out
of
the
formless
stream
of
sad
but
horrible
sounds
,
strings
of
words
would
now
and
again
shape
themselves
:
grim
,
hard
,
cold
words
,
heartless
and
miserable
.
The
night
was
railing
against
the
morning
of
which
it
was
bereaved
,
and
the
cold
was
cursing
the
warmth
for
which
it
hungered
.
Frodo
was
chilled
to
the
marrow
.
After
a
while
the
song
became
clearer
,
and
with
dread
in
his
heart
he
perceived
that
it
had
changed
into
an
incantation
:
Cold
be
hand
and
heart
and
bone
,
and
cold
be
sleep
under
stone
:
never
more
to
wake
on
stony
bed
,
never
,
till
the
Sun
fails
and
the
Moon
is
dead
.
In
the
black
wind
the
stars
shall
die
,
