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- Джон Толкин
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- Властелин колец: Братство кольца
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- Стр. 407/422
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The
rain
,
however
,
did
not
last
long
.
Slowly
the
sky
above
grew
lighter
,
and
then
suddenly
the
clouds
broke
,
and
their
draggled
fringes
trailed
away
northward
up
the
River
.
The
fogs
and
mists
were
gone
.
Before
the
travellers
lay
a
wide
ravine
,
with
great
rocky
sides
to
which
clung
,
upon
shelves
and
in
narrow
crevices
,
a
few
thrawn
trees
.
The
channel
grew
narrower
and
the
River
swifter
.
Now
they
were
speeding
along
with
little
hope
of
stopping
or
turning
,
whatever
they
might
meet
ahead
.
Over
them
was
a
lane
of
pale-blue
sky
,
around
them
the
dark
overshadowed
River
,
and
before
them
black
,
shutting
out
the
sun
,
the
hills
of
Emyn
Muil
,
in
which
no
opening
could
be
seen
.
Frodo
peering
forward
saw
in
the
distance
two
great
rocks
approaching
:
like
great
pinnacles
or
pillars
of
stone
they
seemed
.
Tall
and
sheer
and
ominous
they
stood
upon
either
side
of
the
stream
.
A
narrow
gap
appeared
between
them
,
and
the
River
swept
the
boats
towards
it
.
"
Behold
the
Argonath
,
the
Pillars
of
the
Kings
!
"
cried
Aragorn
.
"
We
shall
pass
them
soon
.
Keep
the
boats
in
line
,
and
as
far
apart
as
you
can
!
Hold
the
middle
of
the
stream
!
"
As
Frodo
was
borne
towards
them
the
great
pillars
rose
like
towers
to
meet
him
.
Giants
they
seemed
to
him
,
vast
grey
figures
silent
but
threatening
.
Then
he
saw
that
they
were
indeed
shaped
and
fashioned
:
the
craft
and
power
of
old
had
wrought
upon
them
,
and
still
they
preserved
through
the
suns
and
rains
of
forgotten
years
the
mighty
likenesses
in
which
they
had
been
hewn
.
Upon
great
pedestals
founded
in
the
deep
waters
stood
two
great
kings
of
stone
:
still
with
blurred
eyes
and
crannied
brows
they
frowned
upon
the
North
.
The
left
hand
of
each
was
raised
palm
outwards
in
gesture
of
warning
;
in
each
right
hand
there
was
an
axe
;
upon
each
head
there
was
a
crumbling
helm
and
crown
.
Great
power
and
majesty
they
still
wore
,
the
silent
wardens
of
a
long-vanished
kingdom
.
Awe
and
fear
fell
upon
Frodo
,
and
he
cowered
down
,
shutting
his
eyes
and
not
daring
to
look
up
as
the
boat
drew
near
.
Even
Boromir
bowed
his
head
as
the
boats
whirled
by
.
frail
and
fleeting
as
little
leaves
,
under
the
enduring
shadow
of
the
sentinels
of
Numenor
.
So
they
passed
into
the
dark
chasm
of
the
Gates
.
Sheer
rose
the
dreadful
cliffs
to
unguessed
heights
on
either
side
.
Far
off
was
the
dim
sky
.
The
black
waters
roared
and
echoed
,
and
a
wind
screamed
over
them
.
Frodo
crouching
over
his
knees
heard
Sam
in
front
muttering
and
groaning
:
"
What
a
place
!
What
a
horrible
place
!
Just
let
me
get
out
of
this
boat
,
and
I
'll
never
wet
my
toes
in
a
puddle
again
,
let
alone
a
river
!
"
"
Fear
not
!
"
said
a
strange
voice
behind
him
.
Frodo
turned
and
saw
Strider
,
and
yet
not
Strider
;
for
the
weatherworn
Ranger
was
no
longer
there
.
In
the
stern
sat
Aragorn
son
of
Arathorn
,
proud
and
erect
,
guiding
the
boat
with
skilful
strokes
;
his
hood
was
cast
back
,
and
his
dark
hair
was
blowing
in
the
wind
,
a
light
was
in
his
eyes
:
a
king
returning
from
exile
to
his
own
land
.
"
Fear
not
!
"
he
said
.
"
Long
have
I
desired
to
look
upon
the
likenesses
of
Isildur
and
Anarion
,
my
sires
of
old
.
Under
their
shadow
Elessar
,
the
Elfstone
son
of
Arathorn
of
the
House
of
Valandil
Isildur
's
son
heir
of
Elendil
,
has
nought
to
dread
!
"
Then
the
light
of
his
eyes
faded
,
and
he
spoke
to
himself
:
"
Would
that
Gandalf
were
here
!
How
my
heart
yearns
for
Minas
Anor
and
the
walls
of
my
own
city
!
But
whither
now
shall
I
go
?
"
The
chasm
was
long
and
dark
,
and
filled
with
the
noise
of
wind
and
rushing
water
and
echoing
stone
.
It
bent
somewhat
towards
the
west
so
that
at
first
all
was
dark
ahead
;
but
soon
Frodo
saw
a
tall
gap
of
light
before
him
,
ever
growing
.
Swiftly
it
drew
near
,
and
suddenly
the
boats
shot
through
,
out
into
a
wide
clear
light
.
