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- Джон Толкин
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- Властелин колец: Возвращение короля
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- Стр. 188/277
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Frodo
and
Sam
could
go
no
further
.
Their
last
strength
of
mind
and
body
was
swiftly
ebbing
.
They
had
reached
a
low
ashen
hill
piled
at
the
Mountain
's
foot
;
but
from
it
there
was
no
more
escape
.
It
was
an
island
now
,
not
long
to
endure
,
amid
the
torment
of
Orodruin
.
All
about
it
the
earth
gaped
,
and
from
deep
rifts
and
pits
smoke
and
fumes
leaped
up
.
Behind
them
the
Mountain
was
convulsed
.
Great
rents
opened
in
its
side
.
Slow
rivers
of
fire
came
down
the
long
slopes
towards
them
.
Soon
they
would
be
engulfed
.
A
rain
of
hot
ash
was
falling
.
They
stood
now
;
and
Sam
still
holding
his
master
's
hand
caressed
it
.
He
sighed
.
"
What
a
tale
we
have
been
in
,
Mr.
Frodo
,
have
n't
we
?
"
he
said
.
"
I
wish
I
could
hear
it
told
!
Do
you
think
they
'll
say
:
Now
comes
the
story
of
Nine-fingered
Frodo
and
the
Ring
of
Doom
?
And
then
everyone
will
hush
,
like
we
did
,
when
in
Rivendell
they
told
us
the
tale
of
Beren
One-hand
and
the
Great
Jewel
.
I
wish
I
could
hear
it
!
And
I
wonder
how
it
will
go
on
after
our
part
.
"
But
even
while
he
spoke
so
,
to
keep
fear
away
until
the
very
last
,
his
eyes
still
strayed
north
,
north
into
the
eye
of
the
wind
,
to
where
the
sky
far
off
was
clear
,
as
the
cold
blast
,
rising
to
a
gale
,
drove
back
the
darkness
and
the
ruin
of
the
clouds
.
And
so
it
was
that
Gwaihir
saw
them
with
his
keen
far-seeing
eyes
,
as
down
the
wild
wind
he
came
,
and
daring
the
great
peril
of
the
skies
he
circled
in
the
air
:
two
small
dark
figures
,
forlorn
,
hand
in
hand
upon
a
little
hill
,
while
the
world
shook
under
them
,
and
gasped
,
and
rivers
of
fire
drew
near
.
And
even
as
he
espied
them
and
came
swooping
down
,
he
saw
them
fall
,
worn
out
,
or
choked
with
fumes
and
heat
,
or
stricken
down
by
despair
at
last
,
hiding
their
eyes
from
death
.
Side
by
side
they
lay
;
and
down
swept
Gwaihir
,
and
down
came
Landroval
and
Meneldor
the
swift
;
and
in
a
dream
,
not
knowing
what
fate
had
befallen
them
,
the
wanderers
were
lifted
up
and
borne
far
away
out
of
the
darkness
and
the
fire
.
When
Sam
awoke
,
he
found
that
he
was
lying
on
some
soft
bed
,
but
over
him
gently
swayed
wide
beechen
boughs
,
and
through
their
young
leaves
sunlight
glimmered
,
green
and
gold
.
All
the
air
was
full
of
a
sweet
mingled
scent
.
He
remembered
that
smell
:
the
fragrance
of
Ithilien
.
"
Bless
me
!
"
he
mused
.
"
How
long
have
I
been
asleep
?
"
For
the
scent
had
borne
him
back
to
the
day
when
he
had
lit
his
little
fire
under
the
sunny
bank
;
and
for
a
moment
all
else
between
was
out
of
waking
memory
.
He
stretched
and
drew
a
deep
breath
.
"
Why
,
what
a
dream
I
've
had
!
"
he
muttered
.
"
I
am
glad
to
wake
!
"
He
sat
up
and
then
he
saw
that
Frodo
was
lying
beside
him
,
and
slept
peacefully
,
one
hand
behind
his
head
,
and
the
other
resting
upon
the
coverlet
.
It
was
the
right
hand
,
and
the
third
finger
was
missing
.
Full
memory
flooded
back
,
and
Sam
cried
aloud
:
"
It
was
n't
a
dream
!
Then
where
are
we
?
"
And
a
voice
spoke
softly
behind
:
"
In
the
land
of
Ithilien
,
and
in
the
keeping
of
the
King
;
and
he
awaits
you
.
"
With
that
Gandalf
stood
before
him
,
robed
in
white
,
his
beard
now
gleaming
like
pure
snow
in
the
twinkling
of
the
leafy
sunlight
.
"
Well
,
Master
Samwise
,
how
do
you
feel
?
"
he
said
.
