Pokrewne
- Strona Główna
- Bertin Joanne Ostatni Lord Smok
- Drugi podejrzany Lewis Heather
- Zelazny Roger Pan Swiatla
- LINUXADM (4)
- Ziemianski Andrzej Achaja tom 2
- Pieklo Gabriela (2)
- Marsden John Kroniki Ellie 03 Przyciągając burzę
- Pora deszczow
- Andrzej Sapkowski Narrenturm (2)
- Writing From Sources Brenda Spatt
- zanotowane.pl
- doc.pisz.pl
- pdf.pisz.pl
- pozycb.xlx.pl
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
.He stumbled forward with all the speed he could towards the cries;but the light was now gone, and clinging night had closed about him, so thatit was impossible to be sure of any direction.He seemed all the time to beclimbing up and up.Only the change in the level of the ground at his feet told him when heat last came to the top of a ridge or hill.He was weary, sweating and yetchilled.It was wholly dark. 'Where are you?' he cried out miserably.There was no reply.He stood listening.He was suddenly aware that itwas getting very cold, and that up here a wind was beginning to blow, an icywind.A change was coming in the weather.The mist was flowing past himnowin shreds and tatters.His breath was smoking, and the darkness was lessnear and thick.He looked up and saw with surprise that faint stars wereappearing overhead amid the strands of hurrying cloud and fog.The windbegan to hiss over the grass.He imagined suddenly that he caught a muffled cry, and he made towardsit; and even as he went forward the mist was rolled up and thrust aside, andthe starry sky was unveiled.A glance showed him that he was now facingsouthwards and was on a round hill-top, which he must have climbed from thenorth.Out of the east the biting wind was blowing.To his right thereloomed against the westward stars a dark black shape.A great barrow stoodthere.'Where are you?' he cried again, both angry and afraid.'Here!' said a voice, deep and cold, that seemed to come out of theground.'I am waiting for you!''No!' said Frodo; but he did not run away.His knees gave, and he fellon the ground.Nothing happened, and there was no sound.Trembling helookedup, in time to see a tall dark figure like a shadow against the stars.Itleaned over him.He thought there were two eyes, very cold though lit with apale light that seemed to come from some remote distance.Then a gripstronger and colder than iron seized him.The icy touch froze his bones, andhe remembered no more.When he came to himself again, for a moment he could recall nothingexcept a sense of dread.Then suddenly he knew that he was imprisoned,caught hopelessly; he was in a barrow.A Barrow-wight had taken him, and hewas probably already under the dreadful spells of the Barrow-wights aboutwhich whispered tales spoke.He dared not move, but lay as he found himself:flat on his back upon a cold stone with his hands on his breast.But though his fear was so great that it seemed to be part of the verydarkness that was round him, he found himself as he lay thinking about BilboBaggins and his stories, of their jogging along together in the lanes of theShire and talking about roads and adventures.There is a seed of courage hidden (often deeply, it is true) in the heart of the fattest and most timidhobbit, wailing for some final and desperate danger to make it grow.Frodowas neither very fat nor very timid; indeed, though he did not know it,Bilbo (and Gandalf) had thought him the best hobbit in the Shire.He thoughthe had come to the end of his adventure, and a terrible end, but the thoughthardened him.He found himself stiffening, as if for a final spring; he nolonger felt limp like a helpless prey.As he lay there, thinking and getting a hold of himself, he noticed allat once that the darkness was slowly giving way: a pale greenish light wasgrowing round him.It did not at first show him what kind of a place he wasin, for the light seemed to be coming out of himself, and from the floorbeside him, and had not yet reached the roof or wall.He turned, and therein the cold glow he saw lying beside him Sam, Pippin, and Merry.They wereon their backs, and their faces looked deathly pale; and they were clad inwhite.About them lay many treasures, of gold maybe, though in that lightthey looked cold and unlovely.On their heads were circlets, gold chainswere about their waists, and on their fingers were many rings.Swords lay bytheir sides, and shields were at their feet.But across their three neckslay one long naked sword.Suddenly a song began: a cold murmur, rising and falling.The voiceseemed far away and immeasurably dreary, sometimes high in the air and thin,sometimes like a low moan from the ground.Out of the formless stream of sadbut horrible sounds, strings of words would now and again shape themselves:grim, hard, cold words, heartless and miserable.The night was railingagainst the morning of which it was bereaved, and the cold was cursing thewarmth for which it hungered.Frodo was chilled to the marrow.After a whilethe song became clearer, and with dread in his heart he perceived that ithad changed into an incantation:Cold be hand and heart and bone,and cold be sleep under stone:never mare to wake on stony bed,never, till the Sun fails and the Moon is dead.In the black wind the stars shall die,and still on gold here let them lie,till the dark lord lifts his handover dead sea and withered land.He heard behind his head a creaking and scraping sound.Raising himself on one arm he looked, and saw now in the pale light that they were in a kindof passage which behind them turned a corner.Round the corner a long armwas groping, walking on its fingers towards Sam, who was lying nearest, andtowards the hilt of the sword that lay upon him.At first Frodo felt as if he had indeed been turned into stone by theincantation.Then a wild thought of escape came to him.He wondered if heput on the Ring, whether the Barrow-wight would miss him, and he might findsome way out.He thought of himself running free over the grass, grievingfor Merry, and Sam, and Pippin, but free and alive himself.Gandalf wouldadmit that there had been nothing else he could do.But the courage that had been awakened in him was now too strong: hecould not leave his friends so easily.He wavered, groping in his pocket,and then fought with himself again; and as he did so the arm crept nearer.Suddenly resolve hardened in him, and he seized a short sword that laybeside him, and kneeling he stooped low over the bodies of his companions.With what strength he had he hewed at the crawling arm near the wrist, andthe hand broke off; but at the same moment the sword splintered up to thehilt.There was a shriek and the light vanished.In the dark there was asnarling noise.Frodo fell forward over Merry, and Merry's face felt cold.All at onceback into his mind, from which it had disappeared with the first coming ofthe fog, came the memory of the house down under the Hill, and of Tomsinging.He remembered the rhyme that Tom had taught them.In a smalldesperate voice he began: Ho! Tom Bombadil! and with that name his voiceseemed to grow strong: it had a full and lively sound, and the dark chamberechoed as if to drum and trumpet.Ho! Tom Bombadil, Tom Bombadillo!By water, wood and hill, by the reed and willow,By fire, sun and moon, harken now and hear us!Come, Tom Bombadil, for our need is near us!There was a sudden deep silence, in which Frodo could hear his heartbeating [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl agnieszka90.opx.pl
.He stumbled forward with all the speed he could towards the cries;but the light was now gone, and clinging night had closed about him, so thatit was impossible to be sure of any direction.He seemed all the time to beclimbing up and up.Only the change in the level of the ground at his feet told him when heat last came to the top of a ridge or hill.He was weary, sweating and yetchilled.It was wholly dark. 'Where are you?' he cried out miserably.There was no reply.He stood listening.He was suddenly aware that itwas getting very cold, and that up here a wind was beginning to blow, an icywind.A change was coming in the weather.The mist was flowing past himnowin shreds and tatters.His breath was smoking, and the darkness was lessnear and thick.He looked up and saw with surprise that faint stars wereappearing overhead amid the strands of hurrying cloud and fog.The windbegan to hiss over the grass.He imagined suddenly that he caught a muffled cry, and he made towardsit; and even as he went forward the mist was rolled up and thrust aside, andthe starry sky was unveiled.A glance showed him that he was now facingsouthwards and was on a round hill-top, which he must have climbed from thenorth.Out of the east the biting wind was blowing.To his right thereloomed against the westward stars a dark black shape.A great barrow stoodthere.'Where are you?' he cried again, both angry and afraid.'Here!' said a voice, deep and cold, that seemed to come out of theground.'I am waiting for you!''No!' said Frodo; but he did not run away.His knees gave, and he fellon the ground.Nothing happened, and there was no sound.Trembling helookedup, in time to see a tall dark figure like a shadow against the stars.Itleaned over him.He thought there were two eyes, very cold though lit with apale light that seemed to come from some remote distance.Then a gripstronger and colder than iron seized him.The icy touch froze his bones, andhe remembered no more.When he came to himself again, for a moment he could recall nothingexcept a sense of dread.Then suddenly he knew that he was imprisoned,caught hopelessly; he was in a barrow.A Barrow-wight had taken him, and hewas probably already under the dreadful spells of the Barrow-wights aboutwhich whispered tales spoke.He dared not move, but lay as he found himself:flat on his back upon a cold stone with his hands on his breast.But though his fear was so great that it seemed to be part of the verydarkness that was round him, he found himself as he lay thinking about BilboBaggins and his stories, of their jogging along together in the lanes of theShire and talking about roads and adventures.There is a seed of courage hidden (often deeply, it is true) in the heart of the fattest and most timidhobbit, wailing for some final and desperate danger to make it grow.Frodowas neither very fat nor very timid; indeed, though he did not know it,Bilbo (and Gandalf) had thought him the best hobbit in the Shire.He thoughthe had come to the end of his adventure, and a terrible end, but the thoughthardened him.He found himself stiffening, as if for a final spring; he nolonger felt limp like a helpless prey.As he lay there, thinking and getting a hold of himself, he noticed allat once that the darkness was slowly giving way: a pale greenish light wasgrowing round him.It did not at first show him what kind of a place he wasin, for the light seemed to be coming out of himself, and from the floorbeside him, and had not yet reached the roof or wall.He turned, and therein the cold glow he saw lying beside him Sam, Pippin, and Merry.They wereon their backs, and their faces looked deathly pale; and they were clad inwhite.About them lay many treasures, of gold maybe, though in that lightthey looked cold and unlovely.On their heads were circlets, gold chainswere about their waists, and on their fingers were many rings.Swords lay bytheir sides, and shields were at their feet.But across their three neckslay one long naked sword.Suddenly a song began: a cold murmur, rising and falling.The voiceseemed far away and immeasurably dreary, sometimes high in the air and thin,sometimes like a low moan from the ground.Out of the formless stream of sadbut horrible sounds, strings of words would now and again shape themselves:grim, hard, cold words, heartless and miserable.The night was railingagainst the morning of which it was bereaved, and the cold was cursing thewarmth for which it hungered.Frodo was chilled to the marrow.After a whilethe song became clearer, and with dread in his heart he perceived that ithad changed into an incantation:Cold be hand and heart and bone,and cold be sleep under stone:never mare to wake on stony bed,never, till the Sun fails and the Moon is dead.In the black wind the stars shall die,and still on gold here let them lie,till the dark lord lifts his handover dead sea and withered land.He heard behind his head a creaking and scraping sound.Raising himself on one arm he looked, and saw now in the pale light that they were in a kindof passage which behind them turned a corner.Round the corner a long armwas groping, walking on its fingers towards Sam, who was lying nearest, andtowards the hilt of the sword that lay upon him.At first Frodo felt as if he had indeed been turned into stone by theincantation.Then a wild thought of escape came to him.He wondered if heput on the Ring, whether the Barrow-wight would miss him, and he might findsome way out.He thought of himself running free over the grass, grievingfor Merry, and Sam, and Pippin, but free and alive himself.Gandalf wouldadmit that there had been nothing else he could do.But the courage that had been awakened in him was now too strong: hecould not leave his friends so easily.He wavered, groping in his pocket,and then fought with himself again; and as he did so the arm crept nearer.Suddenly resolve hardened in him, and he seized a short sword that laybeside him, and kneeling he stooped low over the bodies of his companions.With what strength he had he hewed at the crawling arm near the wrist, andthe hand broke off; but at the same moment the sword splintered up to thehilt.There was a shriek and the light vanished.In the dark there was asnarling noise.Frodo fell forward over Merry, and Merry's face felt cold.All at onceback into his mind, from which it had disappeared with the first coming ofthe fog, came the memory of the house down under the Hill, and of Tomsinging.He remembered the rhyme that Tom had taught them.In a smalldesperate voice he began: Ho! Tom Bombadil! and with that name his voiceseemed to grow strong: it had a full and lively sound, and the dark chamberechoed as if to drum and trumpet.Ho! Tom Bombadil, Tom Bombadillo!By water, wood and hill, by the reed and willow,By fire, sun and moon, harken now and hear us!Come, Tom Bombadil, for our need is near us!There was a sudden deep silence, in which Frodo could hear his heartbeating [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]