按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
beginning to blow； an icy wind。 A change was ing in the weather。 The mist was flowing past him now in shreds and 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 overhead amid the strands of hurrying cloud and fog。 The wind began to hiss over the grass。
He imagined suddenly that he caught a muffled cry； and he made towards it； and even as he went forward the mist was rolled up and thrust aside； and the starry sky was unveiled。 A glance showed him that he was now facing southwards and was on a round hill…top； which he must have climbed from the north。 Out of the east the biting wind was blowing。 To his right there loomed against the westward stars 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 e out of the ground。 'I am waiting for you！'
'No！' said Frodo； but he did not run away。 His knees gave； and he fell on the ground。 Nothing happened； and there was no sound。 Trembling he looked up； in time to see a tall dark figure like a shadow against the stars。 It leaned over him。 He thought there were two eyes； very cold though lit with a pale light that seemed to e from some remote distance。 Then a grip stronger and colder than iron seized him。 The icy touch froze his bones； and he remembered no more。
When he came to himself again； for a moment he could recall nothing except 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 he was probably already under the dreadful spells of the Barrow…wights about which 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 very darkness that was round him； he found himself as he lay thinking about Bilbo Baggins and his stories； of their jogging along together in the lanes of the Shire 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 timid hobbit； wailing for some final and desperate danger to make it grow。 Frodo was 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 thought he had e to the end of his adventure； and a terrible end； but the thought hardened him。 He found himself stiffening； as if for a final spring； he no longer felt limp like a helpless prey。
As he lay there； thinking and getting a hold of himself； he noticed all at once that the darkness was slowly giving way： a pale greenish light was growing round him。 It did not at first show him what kind of a place he was in； for the light seemed to be ing out of himself； and from the floor beside him； and had not yet reached the roof or wall。 He turned； and there in the cold glow he saw lying beside him Sam； Pippin； and Merry。 They were on their backs； and their faces looked deathly pale； and they were clad in white。 About them lay many treasures； of gold maybe； though in that light they looked cold and unlovely。 On their heads were circlets； gold chains were about their waists； and on their fingers were many rings。 Swords lay by their sides； and shields were at their feet。 But across their three necks lay one long naked sword。
Suddenly a song began： a cold murmur； rising and falling。 The voice seemed 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 sad but horrible sounds； strings of words would now and again shape themselves： grim； hard； cold words； heartless and miserable。 The night was railing against the morning of which it was bereaved； and the cold was cursing the warmth for which it hungered。 Frodo was chilled to the marrow。 After a while the song became clearer； and with dread in his heart he perceived that it had 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 hand
over 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 kind of passage which behind them turned a corner。 Round the corner a long arm was groping； walking on its fingers towards Sam； who was lying nearest； and towards the hilt of the sword that lay upon him。
At first Frodo felt as if he had indeed been turned into stone by the incantation。 Then a wild thought of escape came to him。 He wondered if he put on the Ring； whether the Barrow…wight would miss him； and he might find some way out。 He thought of himself running free over the grass； grieving for Merry； and Sam； and Pippin； but free and alive himself。 Gandalf would admit that there had been nothing else he could do。
But the courage that had been awakened in him was now too strong： he could 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 lay beside him； and kneeling he stooped low over the bodies of his panions。 With what strength he had he hewed at the crawling arm near the wrist； and the hand broke off； but at the same moment the sword splintered up to the hilt。 There was a shriek and the light vanished。 In the dark there was a snarling noise。
Frodo fell forward over Merry； and Merry's face felt cold。 All at once back into his mind； from which it had disappeared with the first ing of the fog； came the memory of the house down under the Hill； and of Tom singing。 He remembered the rhyme that Tom had taught them。 In a small desperate voice he began： Ho！ Tom Bombadil！ and with that name his voice seemed to grow strong： it had a full and lively sound； and the dark chamber echoed 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！
e； Tom Bombadil； for our need is near us！
There was a sudden deep silence； in which Frodo could hear his heart beating。 After a long slow moment he heard plain； but far away； as if it was ing down through the ground or through thick walls； an answering voice singing：
Old Tom Bombadil is a merry fellow；
Bright blue his jacket is； and his boots are yellow。
None has ever caught him yet； for Tom； he is the master：
His songs are stronger songs； and his feet are faster。
There was a loud rumbling sound； as of stones rolling and falling； and suddenly light streamed in； real light； the plain light of day。 A low door…like opening appeared at the end of the chamber beyond Frodo's feet； and there was Tom's head （hat； feather； and all） framed against the light of the sun rising red behind him。 The light fell upon the floor； and upon