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- Джон Толкин
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- Властелин колец: Две башни
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- Стр. 297/332
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Standing
there
for
a
moment
filled
with
dread
Frodo
became
aware
that
a
light
was
shining
;
he
saw
it
glowing
on
Sam
's
face
beside
him
.
Turning
towards
it
,
he
saw
,
beyond
an
arch
of
boughs
,
the
road
to
Osgiliath
running
almost
as
straight
as
a
stretched
ribbon
down
,
down
,
into
the
West
.
There
,
far
away
,
beyond
sad
Gondor
now
overwhelmed
in
shade
,
the
Sun
was
sinking
,
finding
at
last
the
hem
of
the
great
slow-rolling
pall
of
cloud
,
and
falling
in
an
ominous
fire
towards
the
yet
unsullied
Sea
.
The
brief
glow
fell
upon
a
huge
sitting
figure
,
still
and
solemn
as
the
great
stone
kings
of
Argonath
.
The
years
had
gnawed
it
,
and
violent
hands
had
maimed
it
.
Its
head
was
gone
,
and
in
its
place
was
set
in
mockery
a
round
rough-hewn
stone
,
rudely
painted
by
savage
hands
in
the
likeness
of
a
grinning
face
with
one
large
red
eye
in
the
midst
of
its
forehead
.
Upon
its
knees
and
mighty
chair
,
and
all
about
the
pedestal
,
were
idle
scrawls
mixed
with
the
foul
symbols
that
the
maggot-folk
of
Mordor
used
.
Suddenly
,
caught
by
the
level
beams
,
Frodo
saw
the
old
king
's
head
:
it
was
lying
rolled
away
by
the
roadside
.
'
Look
,
Sam
!
'
he
cried
,
startled
into
speech
.
'
Look
!
The
king
has
got
a
crown
again
!
'
The
eyes
were
hollow
and
the
carven
beard
was
broken
,
but
about
the
high
stern
forehead
there
was
a
coronal
of
silver
and
gold
.
A
trailing
plant
with
flowers
like
small
white
stars
had
bound
itself
across
the
brows
as
if
in
reverence
for
the
fallen
king
,
and
in
the
crevices
of
his
stony
hair
yellow
stonecrop
gleamed
.
'
They
can
not
conquer
for
ever
!
'
said
Frodo
And
then
suddenly
the
brief
glimpse
was
gone
.
The
Sun
dipped
and
vanished
,
and
as
if
at
the
shuttering
of
a
lamp
,
black
night
fell
.
Gollum
was
tugging
at
Frodo
's
cloak
and
hissing
with
fear
and
impatience
.
'
We
must
go
,
'
he
said
.
'
We
must
n't
stand
here
.
Make
haste
!
'
Reluctantly
Frodo
turned
his
back
on
the
West
and
followed
as
his
guide
led
him
,
out
into
the
darkness
of
the
East
.
They
left
the
ring
of
trees
and
crept
along
the
road
towards
the
mountains
.
This
road
,
too
,
ran
straight
for
a
while
,
but
soon
it
began
to
bend
away
southwards
,
until
it
came
right
under
the
great
shoulder
of
rock
that
they
had
seen
from
the
distance
.
Black
and
forbidding
it
loomed
above
them
,
darker
than
the
dark
sky
behind
.
Crawling
under
its
shadow
the
road
went
on
,
and
rounding
it
sprang
east
again
and
began
to
climb
steeply
.
Frodo
and
Sam
were
plodding
along
with
heavy
hearts
,
no
longer
able
to
care
greatly
about
their
peril
.
Frodo
's
head
was
bowed
;
his
burden
was
dragging
him
down
again
.
As
soon
as
the
great
Cross-roads
had
been
passed
,
the
weight
of
it
,
almost
forgotten
in
Ithilien
,
had
begun
to
grow
once
more
.
Now
,
feeling
the
way
become
steep
before
his
feet
,
he
looked
wearily
up
;
and
then
he
saw
it
,
even
as
Gollum
had
said
that
he
would
:
the
city
of
the
Ringwraiths
.
He
cowered
against
the
stony
bank
.
A
long-tilted
valley
,
a
deep
gulf
of
shadow
,
ran
back
far
into
the
mountains
.
Upon
the
further
side
,
some
way
within
the
valley
's
arms
high
on
a
rocky
seat
upon
the
black
knees
of
the
Ephel
Dúath
,
stood
the
walls
and
tower
of
Minas
Morgul
.
All
was
dark
about
it
,
earth
and
sky
,
but
it
was
lit
with
light
.
Not
the
imprisoned
moonlight
welling
through
the
marble
walls
of
Minas
Ithil
long
ago
,
Tower
of
the
Moon
,
fair
and
radiant
in
the
hollow
of
the
hills
.
Paler
indeed
than
the
moon
ailing
in
some
slow
eclipse
was
the
light
of
it
now
,
wavering
and
blowing
like
a
noisome
exhalation
of
decay
,
a
corpse-light
,
a
light
that
illuminated
nothing
.
In
the
walls
and
tower
windows
showed
,
like
countless
black
holes
looking
inward
into
emptiness
;
but
the
topmost
course
of
the
tower
revolved
slowly
,
first
one
way
and
then
another
,
a
huge
ghostly
head
leering
into
the
night
.
For
a
moment
the
three
companions
stood
there
,
shrinking
,
staring
up
with
unwilling
eyes
.
Gollum
was
the
first
to
recover
.
Again
he
pulled
at
their
cloaks
urgently
,
but
he
spoke
no
word
.
Almost
he
dragged
them
forward
.
Every
step
was
reluctant
,
and
time
seemed
to
slow
its
pace
.
so
that
between
the
raising
of
a
foot
and
the
setting
of
it
down
minutes
of
loathing
passed
.
