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- Джон Толкин
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- Властелин колец: Возвращение короля
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- Стр. 73/277
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'
Nay
,
I
came
rather
to
guard
the
hurt
men
that
can
yet
be
healed
;
for
the
Rammas
is
breached
far
and
wide
,
and
soon
the
host
of
Morgul
will
enter
in
at
many
points
.
And
I
came
chiefly
to
say
this
.
Soon
there
will
be
battle
on
the
fields
.
A
sortie
must
be
made
ready
.
Let
it
be
of
mounted
men
.
In
them
lies
our
brief
hope
,
for
in
one
thing
only
is
the
enemy
still
poorly
provided
:
he
has
few
horsemen
.
'
'
And
we
also
have
few
.
Now
would
the
coming
of
Rohan
be
in
the
nick
of
time
,
'
said
Denethor
.
'
We
are
likely
to
see
other
newcomers
first
,
'
said
Gandalf
.
'
Fugitives
from
Cair
Andros
have
already
reached
us
.
The
isle
has
fallen
.
Another
army
is
come
from
the
Black
Gate
,
crossing
from
the
north-east
.
'
'
Some
have
accused
you
,
Mithrandir
,
of
delighting
to
bear
ill
news
,
'
said
Denethor
,
'
but
to
me
this
is
no
longer
news
:
it
was
known
to
mw
ere
nightfall
yesterday
.
As
for
the
sortie
,
I
had
already
given
thought
to
it
.
Let
us
go
down
.
'
Time
passed
.
At
length
watchers
on
the
walls
could
see
the
retreat
of
the
out-companies
.
Small
bands
of
weary
and
often
wounded
men
came
first
with
little
order
;
some
were
running
wildly
as
if
pursued
.
Away
to
the
eastward
the
distant
fires
flickered
;
and
now
it
seemed
that
here
and
there
they
crept
across
the
plain
.
Houses
and
barns
were
burning
.
Then
from
many
points
little
rivers
of
red
flame
came
hurrying
on
,
winding
through
the
gloom
,
converging
towards
the
line
of
the
broad
road
that
led
from
the
City-gate
to
Osgiliath
.
'
The
enemy
,
'
men
murmured
.
'
The
dike
is
down
.
Here
they
come
pouring
through
the
breaches
!
And
they
carry
torches
,
it
seems
.
Where
are
our
own
folk
?
'
It
drew
now
to
evening
by
the
hour
,
and
the
light
was
so
dim
that
even
far-sighted
men
upon
the
Citadel
could
discern
little
clearly
out
upon
the
fields
,
save
only
the
burnings
that
ever
multiplied
,
and
the
lines
of
fire
that
grew
in
length
and
speed
.
At
last
,
less
than
a
mile
from
the
City
,
a
more
ordered
mass
of
men
came
into
view
,
marching
not
running
,
still
holding
together
.
The
watchers
held
their
breath
.
'
Faramir
must
be
there
,
'
they
said
.
'
He
can
govern
man
and
beast
.
He
will
make
it
yet
.
'
Now
the
main
retreat
was
scarcely
two
furlongs
distant
.
Out
of
the
gloom
behind
a
small
company
of
horsemen
galloped
,
all
that
was
left
of
the
rearguard
.
Once
again
they
turned
at
bay
,
facing
the
oncoming
lines
of
fire
.
Then
suddenly
there
was
a
tumult
of
fierce
cries
.
Horsemen
of
the
enemy
swept
up
.
The
lines
of
fire
became
flowing
torrents
,
file
upon
file
of
Orcs
bearing
flames
,
and
wild
Southron
men
with
red
banners
,
shouting
with
harsh
tongues
,
surging
up
,
overtaking
the
retreat
.
And
with
a
piercing
cry
out
of
the
dim
sky
fell
the
winged
shadows
,
the
Nazgûl
stooping
to
the
kill
.
