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.They felt as if a trap was closing about them; but they did not quite loseheart.They still remembered the hopeful view they had had of the line of theRoad ahead, and they still knew in which direction it lay.In any case, theynow had so great a dislike for that hollow place about the stone that nothought of remaining there was in their minds.They packed up as quickly astheir chilled fingers would work.Soon they were leading their ponies in single file over the rim and down thelong northward slope of the hill, down into a foggy sea.As they went down themist became colder and damper, and their hair hung lank and dripping on theirforeheads.When they reached the bottom it was so cold that they halted and gotout cloaks and hoods, which soon became bedewed with grey drops.Then, mountingtheir ponies, they went slowly on again, feeling their way by the rise and fallof the ground.They were steering, as well as they could guess, for thegate-like opening at the far northward end of the long valley which they hadseen in the morning.Once they were through the gap, they had only lo keep onin anything like a straight line and they were bound in the end to strike theRoad.Their thoughts did not go beyond that, except for a vague hope thatperhaps away beyond the Downs there might be no fog.Their going was very slow.To prevent their getting separated and wandering indifferent directions they went in file, with Frodo leading.Sam was behind him,and after him came Pippin, and then Merry.The valley seemed to stretch onendlessly.Suddenly Frodo saw a hopeful sign.On either side ahead a darknessbegan to loom through the mist; and he guessed that they were at lastapproaching the gap in the hills, the north-gate of the Barrow-downs.If theycould pass that, they would be free.'Come on! Follow me!' he called back over his shoulder, and he hurried forward.But his hope soon changed to bewilderment and alarm.The dark patches grewdarker, but they shrank; and suddenly he saw, towering ominous before him andleaning slightly towards one another like the pillars of a headless door, twohuge standing stones.He could not remember having seen any sign of these inthe valley, when he looked out from the hill in the morning.He had passedbetween them almost before he was aware: and even as he did so darkness seemedto fall round him.His pony reared and snorted, and he fell off.When he lookedback he found that he was alone: the others had not followed him.'Sam!' hecalled.'Pippin! Merry! Come along! Why don't you keep up?'There was no answer.Fear took him, and he ran back past the stones shoutingwildly: 'Sam! Sam! Merry! Pippin!' The pony bolted into the mist and vanished.From some way off, or so it seemed, he thought he heard a cry: 'Hoy! Frodo!Hoy!' It was away eastward, on his left as he stood under the great stones,staring and straining into the gloom.He plunged off in the direction of thecall, and found himself going steeply uphill.As he struggled on he called again, and kept on calling more and morefrantically; but he heard no answer for some time, and then it seemed faint andfar ahead and high above him.'Frodo! Hoy!' came the thin voices out of themist: and then a cry that sounded like help, help! often repeated, ending witha last help! that trailed off into a long wail suddenly cut short.He stumbledforward with all the speed he could towards the cries; but the light was nowgone, and clinging night had closed about him, so that it was impossible to besure of any direction.He seemed all the time to be climbing up and up.Only the change in the level of the ground at his feet told him when he at lastcame to the top of a ridge or hill.He was weary, sweating and yet chilled.Itwas wholly dark.'Where are you?' he cried out miserably.There was no reply.He stood listening.He was suddenly aware that it wasgetting very cold, and that up here a wind was beginning to blow, an icy wind.A change was coming in the weather.The mist was flowing past him now in shredsand tatters.His breath was smoking, and the darkness was less near and thick.He looked up and saw with surprise that faint stars were appearing overheadamid the strands of hurrying cloud and fog.The wind began to hiss over thegrass.He imagined suddenly that he caught a muffled cry, and he made towards it; andeven as he went forward the mist was rolled up and thrust aside, and the starrysky was unveiled.A glance showed him that he was now facing southwards and wason a round hill-top, which he must have climbed from the north.Out of the eastthe biting wind was blowing.To his right there loomed against the westwardstars a dark black shape.A great barrow stood there.'Where are you?' he cried again, both angry and afraid.'Here!' said a voice, deep and cold, that seemed to come out of the ground.'Iam waiting for you!''No!' said Frodo; but he did not run away.His knees gave, and he fell on theground.Nothing happened, and there was no sound.Trembling he looked up, intime to see a tall dark figure like a shadow against the stars.It leaned overhim.He thought there were two eyes, very cold though lit with a pale lightthat seemed to come from some remote distance.Then a grip stronger and colderthan iron seized him.The icy touch froze his bones, and he remembered nomore.When he came to himself again, for a moment he could recall nothing except asense of dread [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]