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- Джон Толкин
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- Властелин колец: Возвращение короля
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- Стр. 83/277
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A
tall
figure
loomed
up
and
stumbled
over
him
,
cursing
the
tree-roots
.
He
recognized
the
voice
of
the
Marshal
,
Elfhelm
.
'
I
am
not
a
tree-root
,
Sir
,
'
he
said
,
'
nor
a
bag
,
but
a
bruised
hobbit
.
The
least
you
can
do
in
amends
is
to
tell
me
what
is
afoot
.
'
'
Anything
that
can
keep
so
in
this
devil
's
mirk
,
'
answered
Elfhelm
.
'
But
my
lord
sends
word
that
we
must
set
ourselves
in
readiness
:
orders
may
come
for
a
sudden
move
.
'
'
Is
the
enemy
coming
then
?
'
asked
Merry
anxiously
.
'
Are
those
their
drums
?
I
began
to
think
I
was
imagining
them
,
as
no
one
else
seemed
to
take
any
notice
of
them
.
'
'
Nay
,
nay
,
'
said
Elfhelm
,
'
the
enemy
is
on
the
road
not
in
the
hills
.
You
hear
the
Woses
,
the
Wild
Men
of
the
Woods
:
thus
they
talk
together
from
afar
.
They
still
haunt
Drúadan
Forest
,
it
is
said
.
Remnants
of
an
older
time
they
be
,
living
few
and
secretly
,
wild
and
wary
as
the
beasts
.
They
go
not
to
war
with
Gondor
or
the
Mark
;
but
now
they
are
troubled
by
the
darkness
and
the
coming
of
the
orcs
:
they
fear
lest
the
Dark
Years
be
returning
,
as
seems
likely
enough
.
Let
us
be
thankful
that
they
are
not
hunting
us
:
for
they
use
poisoned
arrows
,
it
is
said
,
and
they
are
woodcrafty
beyond
compare
.
But
they
have
offered
their
services
to
Théoden
.
Even
now
one
of
their
headmen
is
being
taken
to
the
king
.
Yonder
go
the
lights
.
So
much
I
have
heard
but
no
more
.
And
now
I
must
busy
myself
with
my
lord
's
commands
.
Pack
yourself
up
,
Master
Bag
!
'
He
vanished
into
the
shadows
.
Merry
did
not
like
this
talk
of
wild
men
and
poisoned
darts
,
but
quite
apart
from
that
a
great
weight
of
dread
was
on
him
.
Waiting
was
unbearable
.
He
longed
to
know
what
was
going
to
happen
.
He
got
up
and
soon
was
walking
warily
in
pursuit
of
the
last
lantern
before
it
disappeared
among
the
trees
.
Presently
he
came
to
an
open
space
where
a
small
tent
had
been
set
up
for
the
king
under
a
great
tree
.
A
large
lantern
,
covered
above
,
was
hanging
from
a
bough
and
cast
a
pale
circle
of
light
below
.
There
sat
Théoden
and
Éomer
,
and
before
them
on
the
ground
sat
a
strange
squat
shape
of
a
man
,
gnarled
as
an
old
stone
,
and
the
hairs
of
his
scanty
beard
straggled
on
his
lumpy
chin
like
dry
moss
.
He
was
short-legged
and
fat-armed
,
thick
and
stumpy
,
and
clad
only
with
grass
about
his
waist
.
Merry
felt
that
he
had
seen
him
before
somewhere
,
and
suddenly
he
remembered
the
Púkel-men
of
Dunharrow
.
Here
was
one
of
those
old
images
brought
to
life
,
or
maybe
a
creature
descended
in
true
line
through
endless
years
from
the
models
used
by
the
forgotten
craftsmen
long
ago
.
There
was
a
silence
as
Merry
crept
nearer
,
and
then
the
Wild
Man
began
to
speak
,
in
answer
to
some
question
,
it
seemed
.
His
voice
was
deep
and
guttural
,
yet
to
Merry
's
surprise
he
spoke
the
Common
Speech
,
though
in
a
halting
fashion
,
and
uncouth
words
were
mingled
with
it
.
