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- Джон Толкин
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- Властелин колец: Две башни
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- Стр. 77/332
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'
Ha
,
hmm
,
my
friends
,
let
us
go
for
a
walk
!
'
he
said
.
'
I
am
Bregalad
,
that
is
Quickbeam
in
your
language
.
But
it
is
only
a
nickname
,
of
course
.
They
have
called
me
that
ever
since
I
said
yes
to
an
elder
Ent
before
he
had
finished
his
question
.
Also
I
drink
quickly
,
and
go
out
while
some
are
still
wetting
their
beards
.
Come
with
me
!
'
He
reached
down
two
shapely
arms
and
gave
a
long-fingered
hand
to
each
of
the
hobbits
.
All
that
day
they
walked
about
in
the
woods
with
him
,
singing
,
and
laughing
;
for
Quickbeam
often
laughed
.
He
laughed
if
the
sun
came
out
from
behind
a
cloud
,
he
laughed
if
they
came
upon
a
stream
or
spring
:
then
he
stooped
and
splashed
his
feet
and
head
with
water
;
he
laughed
sometimes
at
some
sound
or
whisper
in
the
trees
.
Whenever
he
saw
a
rowan-tree
he
halted
a
while
with
his
arms
stretched
out
,
and
sang
,
and
swayed
as
he
sang
.
At
nightfall
he
brought
them
to
his
ent-house
:
nothing
more
than
a
mossy
stone
set
upon
turves
under
a
green
bank
.
Rowan-trees
grew
in
a
circle
about
it
,
and
there
was
water
(
as
in
all
ent-houses
)
,
a
spring
bubbling
out
from
the
bank
.
They
talked
for
a
while
as
darkness
fell
on
the
forest
.
Not
far
away
the
voices
of
the
Entmoot
could
be
heard
still
going
on
;
but
now
they
seemed
deeper
and
less
leisurely
,
and
every
now
and
again
one
great
voice
would
rise
in
a
high
and
quickening
music
,
while
all
the
others
died
away
.
But
beside
them
Bregalad
spoke
gently
in
their
own
tongue
,
almost
whispering
;
and
they
learned
that
he
belonged
to
Skinbark
's
people
,
and
the
country
where
they
had
lived
had
been
ravaged
.
That
seemed
to
the
hobbits
quite
enough
to
explain
his
'
hastiness
'
,
at
least
in
the
matter
of
Orcs
.
'
There
were
rowan-trees
in
my
home
,
'
said
Bregalad
,
softly
and
sadly
,
'
rowan-trees
that
took
root
when
I
was
an
Enting
,
many
many
years
ago
in
the
quiet
of
the
world
.
The
oldest
were
planted
by
the
Ents
to
try
and
please
the
Entwives
;
but
they
looked
at
them
and
smiled
and
said
that
they
knew
where
whiter
blossom
and
richer
fruit
were
growing
.
Yet
there
are
no
trees
of
all
that
race
,
the
people
of
the
Rose
,
that
are
so
beautiful
to
me
.
And
these
trees
grew
and
grew
,
till
the
shadow
of
each
was
like
a
green
hall
,
and
their
red
berries
in
the
autumn
were
a
burden
,
and
a
beauty
and
a
wonder
.
Birds
used
to
flock
there
.
I
like
birds
,
even
when
they
chatter
;
and
the
rowan
has
enough
and
to
spare
.
But
the
birds
became
unfriendly
and
greedy
and
tore
at
the
trees
,
and
threw
the
fruit
down
and
did
not
eat
it
.
Then
Orcs
came
with
axes
and
cut
down
my
trees
.
I
came
and
called
them
by
their
long
names
,
but
they
did
not
quiver
,
they
did
not
hear
or
answer
:
they
lay
dead
.
O
Orofarnë
,
Lassemista
,
Carnimírië
!
O
rowan
fair
,
upon
your
hair
how
white
the
blossom
lay
!
O
rowan
mine
,
I
saw
you
shine
upon
a
summer
's
day
,
Your
rind
so
bright
,
your
leaves
so
light
,
your
voice
so
cool
and
soft
:
Upon
your
head
how
golden-red
the
crown
you
bore
aloft
!
