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All
that
host
was
clad
in
sable
,
dark
as
the
night
.
Against
the
wan
walls
and
the
luminous
pavement
of
the
road
Frodo
could
see
them
,
small
black
figures
in
rank
upon
rank
,
marching
swiftly
and
silently
,
passing
outwards
in
an
endless
stream
.
Before
them
went
a
great
cavalry
of
horsemen
moving
like
ordered
shadows
,
and
at
their
head
was
one
greater
than
all
the
rest
:
a
Rider
,
all
black
,
save
that
on
his
hooded
head
he
had
a
helm
like
a
crown
that
flickered
with
a
perilous
light
.
Now
he
was
drawing
near
the
bridge
below
,
and
Frodo
's
staring
eyes
followed
him
,
unable
to
wink
or
to
withdraw
.
Surely
there
was
the
Lord
of
the
Nine
Riders
returned
to
earth
to
lead
his
ghastly
host
to
battle
?
Here
,
yes
here
indeed
was
the
haggard
king
whose
cold
hand
had
smitten
down
the
Ring-bearer
with
his
deadly
knife
.
The
old
wound
throbbed
with
pain
and
a
great
chill
spread
towards
Frodo
's
heart
.
Even
as
these
thoughts
pierced
him
with
dread
and
held
him
bound
as
with
a
spell
,
the
Rider
halted
suddenly
,
right
before
the
entrance
of
the
bridge
,
and
behind
him
all
the
host
stood
still
.
There
was
a
pause
,
a
dead
silence
.
Maybe
it
was
the
Ring
that
called
to
the
Wraith-lord
,
and
for
a
moment
he
was
troubled
,
sensing
some
other
power
within
his
valley
.
This
way
and
that
turned
the
dark
head
helmed
and
crowned
with
fear
,
sweeping
the
shadows
with
its
unseen
eyes
.
Frodo
waited
,
like
a
bird
at
the
approach
of
a
snake
,
unable
to
move
.
And
as
he
waited
,
he
felt
,
more
urgent
than
ever
before
,
the
command
that
he
should
put
on
the
Ring
.
But
great
as
the
pressure
was
,
he
felt
no
inclination
now
to
yield
to
it
.
He
knew
that
the
Ring
would
only
betray
him
,
and
that
he
had
not
,
even
if
he
put
it
on
,
the
power
to
face
the
Morgul-king-not
yet
.
There
was
no
longer
any
answer
to
that
command
in
his
own
will
,
dismayed
by
terror
though
it
was
,
and
he
felt
only
the
beating
upon
him
of
a
great
power
from
outside
.
It
took
his
hand
,
and
as
Frodo
watched
with
his
mind
,
not
willing
it
but
in
suspense
(
as
if
he
looked
on
some
old
story
far
away
)
,
it
moved
the
hand
inch
by
inch
towards
the
chain
upon
his
neck
.
Then
his
own
will
stirred
;
slowly
it
forced
the
hand
back
,
and
set
it
to
find
another
thing
,
a
thing
lying
hidden
near
his
breast
.
Cold
and
hard
it
seemed
as
his
grip
closed
on
it
:
the
phial
of
Galadriel
,
so
long
treasured
,
and
almost
forgotten
till
that
hour
.
As
he
touched
it
,
for
a
while
all
thought
of
the
Ring
was
banished
from
his
mind
.
He
sighed
and
bent
his
head
.
At
that
moment
the
Wraith-king
turned
and
spurred
his
horse
and
rode
across
the
bridge
,
and
all
his
dark
host
followed
him
.
Maybe
the
elven-hoods
defied
his
unseen
eyes
,
and
the
mind
of
his
small
enemy
;
being
strengthened
,
had
turned
aside
his
thought
.
But
he
was
in
haste
.
Already
the
hour
had
struck
,
and
at
his
great
Master
's
bidding
he
must
march
with
war
into
the
West
.
Soon
he
had
passed
,
like
a
shadow
into
shadow
,
down
the
winding
road
,
and
behind
him
still
the
black
ranks
crossed
the
bridge
.
So
great
an
army
had
never
issued
from
that
vale
since
the
days
of
Isildur
's
might
;
no
host
so
fell
and
strong
in
arms
had
yet
assailed
the
fords
of
Anduin
;
and
yet
it
was
but
one
and
not
the
greatest
of
the
hosts
that
Mordor
now
sent
forth
.
Frodo
stirred
.
And
suddenly
his
heart
went
out
to
Faramir
.
'
The
storm
has
burst
at
last
,
'
he
thought
.
'
This
great
array
of
spears
and
swords
is
going
to
Osgiliath
.
Will
Faramir
get
across
in
time
?
He
guessed
it
,
but
did
he
know
the
hour
?
And
who
can
now
hold
the
fords
when
the
King
of
the
Nine
Riders
comes
?
And
other
armies
will
come
.
I
am
too
late
.
All
is
lost
.
I
tarried
on
the
way
.
All
is
lost
.
Even
if
my
errand
is
performed
,
no
one
will
ever
know
.
There
will
be
no
one
I
can
tell
.
It
will
be
in
vain
.
'
Overcome
with
weakness
he
wept
.
And
still
the
host
of
Morgul
crossed
the
bridge
.
Then
at
a
great
distance
,
as
if
it
came
out
of
memories
of
the
Shire
,
some
sunlit
early
morning
,
when
the
day
called
and
doors
were
opening
,
he
heard
Sam
's
voice
speaking
.
'
Wake
up
,
Mr.
Frodo
!
Wake
up
!
'
Had
the
voice
added
:
'
Your
breakfast
is
ready
,
'
he
would
hardly
have
been
surprised
.
Certainly
Sam
was
urgent
.
'
Wake
up
,
Mr.
Frodo
!
They
're
gone
,
'
he
said
.
There
was
a
dull
clang
.
The
gates
of
Minas
Morgul
had
closed
.
The
last
rank
of
spears
had
vanished
down
the
road
.
The
tower
still
grinned
across
the
valley
,
but
the
light
was
fading
in
it
.
The
whole
city
was
falling
back
into
a
dark
brooding
shade
,
and
silence
.
Yet
still
it
was
filled
with
watchfulness
.
