The Lord of the Rings-指环王(英文版)-第39部分

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s；　but　is　hard　to　render　in　our　mon　Speech；　and　this　is　but　a　rough　echo　of　it。　It　tells　of　the　meeting　of　Beren　son　of　Barahir　and　Lúthien　Tinúviel。　Beren　was　a　mortal　man；　but　Lúthien　was　the　daughter　of　Thingol；　a　King　of　Elves　upon　Middleearth　when　the　world　was　young；　and　she　was　the　fairest　maiden　that　has　ever　been　among　all　the　children　of　this　world。　As　the　stars　above　the　mists　of　the　Northern　lands　was　her　loveliness；　and　in　her　face　was　a　shining　light。　In　those　days　the　Great　Enemy；　of　whom　Sauron　of　Mordor　was　but　a　servant；　dwelt　in　Angband　in　the　North；　and　the　Elves　of　the　West　ing　back　to　Middleearth　made　war　upon　him　to　regain　the　Silmarils　which　he　had　stolen；　and　the　fathers　of　Men　aided　the　Elves。　But　the　Enemy　was　victorious　and　Barahir　was　slain；　and　Beren　escaping　through　great　peril　came　over　the　Mountains　of　Terror　into　the　hidden　Kingdom　of　Thingol　in　the　forest　of　Neldoreth。　There　he　beheld　Lúthien　singing　and　dancing　in　a　glade　beside　the　enchanted　river　Esgalduin；　and　he　named　her　Tinúviel；　that　is　Nightingale　in　the　language　of　old。　Many　sorrows　befell　them　afterwards；　and　they　were　parted　long。　Tinúviel　rescued　Beren　from　the　dungeons　of　Sauron；　and　together　they　passed　through　great　dangers；　and　cast　down　even　the　Great　Enemy　from　his　throne；　and　took　from　his　iron　crown　one　of　the　three　Silmarils；　brightest　of　all　jewels；　to　be　the　brideprice　of　Lúthien　to　Thingol　her　father。　Yet　at　the　last　Beren　was　slain　by　the　Wolf　that　came　from　the　gates　of　Angband；　and　he　died　in　the　arms　of　Tinúviel。　But　she　chose　mortality；　and　to　die　from　the　world；　so　that　she　might　follow　him；　and　it　is　sung　that　they　met　again　beyond　the　Sundering　Seas；　and　after　a　brief　time　walking　alive　once　more　in　the　green　woods；　together　they　passed；　long　ago；　beyond　the　confines　of　this　world。　So　it　is　that　Lúthien　Tinúviel　alone　of　the　Elfkindred　has　died　indeed　and　left　the　world；　and　they　have　lost　her　whom　they　most　loved。　But　from　her　the　lineage　of　the　Elflords　of　old　descended　among　Men。　There　live　still　those　of　whom　Lúthien　was　the　foremother；　and　it　is　said　that　her　line　shall　never　fail。　Elrond　of　Rivendell　is　of　that　Kin。　For　of　Beren　and　Lúthien　was　born　Dior　Thingol's　heir；　and　of　him　Elwing　the　White　whom　E。rendil　wedded；　he　that　sailed　his　ship　out　of　the　mists　of　the　world　into　the　seas　of　heaven　with　the　Silmaril　upon　his　brow。　And　of　E。rendil　came　the　Kings　of　Númenor；　that　is　Westernesse。'

As　Strider　was　speaking　they　watched　his　strange　eager　face；　dimly　lit　in　the　red　glow　of　the　woodfire。　His　eyes　shone；　and　his　voice　was　rich　and　deep。　Above　him　was　a　black　starry　sky。　Suddenly　a　pale　light　appeared　over　the　crown　of　Weathertop　behind　him。　The　waxing　moon　was　climbing　slowly　above　the　hill　that　overshadowed　them；　and　the　stars　above　the　hilltop　faded。

The　story　ended。　The　hobbits　moved　and　stretched。　'Look！'　said　Merry。　'The　Moon　is　rising：　it　must　be　getting　late。'

The　others　looked　up。　Even　as　they　did　so；　they　saw　on　the　top　of　the　hill　something　small　and　dark　against　the　glimmer　of　the　moonrise。　It　was　perhaps　only　a　large　stone　or　jutting　rock　shown　up　by　the　pale　light。

Sam　and　Merry　got　up　and　walked　away　from　the　fire。　Frodo　and　Pippin　remained　seated　in　silence。　Strider　was　watching　the　moonlight　on　the　hill　intently。　All　seemed　quiet　and　still；　but　Frodo　felt　a　cold　dread　creeping　over　his　heart；　now　that　Strider　was　no　longer　speaking。　He　huddled　closer　to　the　fire。　At　that　moment　Sam　came　running　back　from　the　edge　of　the　dell。

'I　don't　know　what　it　is；'　he　said；　'but　I　suddenly　felt　afraid。　I　durstn't　go　outside　this　dell　for　any　money；　I　felt　that　something　was　creeping　up　the　slope。'

'Did　you　see　anything？'　asked　Frodo；　springing　to　his　feet。

'No；　sir。　I　saw　nothing；　but　I　didn't　stop　to　look。'

'I　saw　something；'　said　Merry；　'or　I　thought　I　did　。　away　westwards　where　the　moonlight　was　falling　on　the　flats　beyond　the　shadow　of　the　hilltops；　I　thought　there　were　two　or　three　black　shapes。　They　seemed　to　be　moving　this　way。'

'Keep　close　to　the　fire；　with　your　faces　outward！'　cried　Strider。　'Get　some　of　the　longer　sticks　ready　in　your　hands！'

For　a　breathless　time　they　sat　there；　silent　and　alert；　with　their　backs　turned　to　the　woodfire；　each　gazing　into　the　shadows　that　encircled　them。　Nothing　happened。　There　was　no　sound　or　movement　in　the　night。　Frodo　stirred；　feeling　that　he　must　break　the　silence：　he　longed　to　shout　out　aloud。

'Hush！'　whispered　Strider。　'What's　that？'　gasped　Pippin　at　the　same　moment。

Over　the　lip　of　the　little　dell；　on　the　side　away　from　the　hill；　they　felt；　rather　than　saw；　a　shadow　rise；　one　shadow　or　more　than　one。　They　strained　their　eyes；　and　the　shadows　seemed　to　grow。　Soon　there　could　be　no　doubt：

three　or　four　tall　black　figures　were　standing　there　on　the　slope；　looking　down　on　them。　So　black　were　they　that　they　seemed　like　black　holes　in　the　deep　shade　behind　them。　Frodo　thought　that　he　heard　a　faint　hiss　as　of　venomous　breath　and　felt　a　thin　piercing　chill。　Then　the　shapes　slowly　advanced。

Terror　overcame　Pippin　and　Merry；　and　they　threw　themselves　flat　on　the　ground。　Sam　shrank　to　Frodo's　side。　Frodo　was　hardly　less　terrified　than　his　panions；　he　was　quaking　as　if　he　was　bitter　cold；　but　his　terror　was　swallowed　up　in　a　sudden　temptation　to　put　on　the　Ring。　The　desire　to　do　this　laid　hold　of　him；　and　he　could　think　of　nothing　else。　He　did　not　fet　the　Barrow；　nor　the　message　of　Gandalf；　but　something　seemed　to　be　pelling　him　to　disregard　all　warnings；　and　he　longed　to　yield。　Not　with　the　hope　of　escape；　or　of　doing　anything；　either　good　or　bad：　he　simply　felt　that　he　must　take　the　Ring　and　put　it　on　his　finger。　He　could　not　speak。　He　felt　Sam　looking　at　him；　as　if　he　knew　that　his　master　was　in　some　great　trouble；　but　he　could　not　turn　towards　him。　He　shut　his　eyes　and　struggled　for　a　while；　but　resistance　became　unbearable；　and　at　last　he　slowly　drew　out　the　chain；　and　slipped　the　Ring　on　the　forefinger　of　his　left　hand。

Immediately；　though　everything　else　remained　as　before；　dim　and　dark；　the　shapes　became　terribly　clear。　He　was　able　to　see　beneath　their　black　wrappings。　There　were　five　tall　figures：　two　standing　on　the　lip　of　the　dell；　three　advancing。　In　their　white　faces　burned　keen　and　merciless　eyes；　under　their　mantles　were　long　grey　robes；　upon　their　grey　hairs　were　helms　of　silver；　in　their　haggard　hands　were　swords　of　steel。　Their　eyes　fell　on　him　and　pierced　him；　as　they　rushed　towards　him。　Desperate；　he　drew　his　own　sword；　and　it　seemed　to　him　that　it　flickered　red；　as　if　it　was　a　firebrand。　Two　of　the　figures　halted。　The　third　was　taller　than　the　others：　his　hair　was　long　and　gleaming　and　on　his　helm　was　a　crown。　In　one　hand　he　held　a　long　sword；　and　in　the　other　a　knife；　both　the　knife　and　the　hand　that　held　it　glowed　with　a　pale　light。　He　sprang　forward　and　bore　down　on　Frodo。

At　that　moment　Frodo　threw　himself　forward　on　the　ground；　and　he　heard　himself　crying　aloud：　O　Elbereth！　Gilthoniel！　At　the　same　time　he　struck　at　the　feet　of　his　enemy。　A　shrill　cry　rang　out　in　the　night；　and　he　felt　a　pain　like　a　dart　of　poisoned　ice　pierce　his　left　shoulder。　Even　as　he　swooned　he　caught；　as　through　a　swirling　mist；　a　glimpse　of　Strider　leaping　out　of　the　darkness　with　a　flaming　brand　of　wood　in　either　hand。　With　a　last　effort　Frodo；　dropping　his　sword；　slipped　the　Ring　from　his　finger　and　closed　his　right　hand　tight　upon　it。

Chapter　12
Flight　to　the　Ford
　

When　Frodo　came　to　himself　he　was　still　clutching　the　Ring　desperately。　He　was　lying　by　the　fire；　which　was　now　piled　high　and　burning　brightly。　His　three　panions　were　bending　over　him。　'What　has　happened？　Where　is　the　pale　king？'　he　asked　wildly。　They　were　too　overjoyed　to　hear　him　speak　to　answer　for　a　while；　nor　did　they　understand　his　question。　At　length　he　gathered　from　Sam　that　they　had　seen　nothing　but　the　vague　shadowy　shapes　ing　towards　them。　Suddenly　to　his　horror　Sam　found　that　his　master　had　vanished；　and　at　that　moment　a　black　shadow　rushed　past　him；　and　he　fell。　He　heard　Frodo's　voice；　but　it　seemed　to　e　from　a　great　distance；　or　from　under　the　earth；　crying　out　strange　words。　They　saw　nothing　more；　until　they　stumbled　over　the　body　of　Frodo；　lying　as　if　dead；　face　downwards　on　the　grass　with　his　sword　beneath　him。　Strider　ordered　them　to　pick　him　up　and　lay　him　near　the　fire；　and　then　he　disappeared。　That　was　now　a　good　while　ago。

Sam　plainly　was　beginning　to　have　doubts　again　about　Strider；　but　while　they　were　talking　he　returned；　appearing　suddenly　out　of　the　shadows。　They　started；　and　Sam　drew　his　sword　and　stood　over　Frodo；　but　Strider　knelt　down　swiftly　at　his　side。

'I　am　not　a　Black　Rider；　Sam；'　he　said　gently；　'nor　in　league　with　them。　I　have　been　trying　to　discover　something　of　their　movements；　but　I　have　found　nothing。　I　cannot　think　why　they　have　gone　and　do　not　attack　again。　But　there　is　no　feeling　of　their　presence　anywhere　at　hand。'

When　he　heard　what　Frodo　had　to　tell；　he　became　full　of　concern；　and　shook　his　head　and　sighed。　Then　he　ordered　Pippin　and　Merry　to　heat　as　much　water　as　they　could　in　their　small　kettles；　and　to　bathe　the　wound　with　it。　'Keep　the　fire　going　well；　and　keep　Frodo　warm！'　he　said。　Then　he　got　up　and　walked　away；　and　called　Sam　to　him。　'I　think　I　understand　things　better　now；'　he　said　in　a　low　voice。　'There　seem　only　to　have　been　five　of　the　enemy。　Why　they　were　not　all　here；　I　don't　know；　but　I　don't　think　they　expected　to　be　resisted。　They　have　drawn　off　for　the　time　being。　But　not　far；　I　fear。　They　will　e　again　another　night；　if　we　cannot　escape。　They　are　only　waiting；　because　they　think　that　their　purpose　is　almost　acplished；　and　that　the　Ring　cannot　fly　much　further。　I　fear；　Sam；　that　they　believe　your　master　has　a　deadly　wound　that　will　subdue　him　to　their　will。　We　shall　see！'　Sam　choked　with　tears。　'Don't　despair！'　said　Strider。　'You　must　trust　me　now。　Your　Frodo　is　made　of　sterner　stuff　than　I　had　guessed；　though　Gandalf　hinted　that　it　might　prove　so。　He　is　not　slain；　and　I　think　he　will　resist　the　evil　power　of　the　wound　longer　than　his　enemies　expect。　I　will　do　all　I　can　to　help　and　heal　him。　Guard　him　well；　while　I　am　away！'　He　hurried　off　and　disappeared　again　into　the　darkness。

Frodo　dozed；　though　the　pain　of　his　wound　was　slowly　growing；　and　a　deadly　chill　was　spreading　from　his　shoulder　to　his　arm　and　side。　His　friends　watched　over　him；　warming　him；　and　bathing　his　wound。　The　night　passed　slowly　and　wearily。　Dawn　was　growing　in　the　sky；　and　the　dell　was　filling　with　grey　light；　when　Strider　at　last　returned。

'Look！'　he　cried；　and　stooping　he　lifted　from　the　ground　a　black　cloak　that　had　lain　there　hidden　by　the　darkness。　A　foot　above　the　lower　hem　there　was　a　slash。　'This　was　the　stroke　of　Frodo's　sword；'　he　said。　'The　only　hurt　that　it　did　to　his　enemy；　I　fear；　for　it　is　unharmed；　but　all　blades　perish　that　pierce　that　dreadful　King。　More　deadly　to　him　was　the　name　of　Elbereth。'

'And　more　deadly　to　Frodo　was　this！'　He　stooped　again　and　lifted　up　a　long　thin　knife。　There　was　a　cold　gleam　in　it。　As　Strider　raised　it　they　saw　that　near　the　end　its　edge　was　notched　and　the　point　was　broken　off。　But　even　as　he　held　it　up　in　the　growing　light；　they　gazed　in　astonish