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.The water flowing beneath was silent, and it steamed,but the vapour that rose from it, curling and twisting about the bridge, wasdeadly cold.Frodo felt his senses reeling and his mind darkening.Thensuddenly, as if some force were at work other than his own will, he began tohurry, tottering forward, his groping hands held out, his head lolling fromside to side.Both Sam and Gollum ran after him.Sam caught his master in hisarms, as he stumbled and almost fell, right on the threshold of the bridge. `Not that way! No, not that way! 'whispered Gollum, but the breath between his teeth seemed to tear the heavystillness like a whistle, and he cowered to the ground in terror. `Hold up, Mr.Frodo! ' muttered Sam inFrodo's ear.'Come back! Not that way.Gollum says not, and for once I agreewith him.' Frodo passed his hand over his brow andwrenched his eyes away from the city on the hill.The luminous tower fascinatedhim, and he fought the desire that was on him to run up the gleaming roadtowards its gate.At last with an effort he turned back, and as he did so, hefelt the Ring resisting him, dragging at the chain about his neck; and his eyestoo, as he looked away, seemed for the moment to have been blinded.Thedarkness before him was impenetrable. Gollum, crawling on the ground like afrightened animal, was already vanishing into the gloom.Sam, supporting andguiding his stumbling master, followed after him as quickly as he could.Notfar from the near bank of the stream there was a gap in the stone-wall besidethe road.Through this they passed, and Sam saw that they were on a narrow paththat gleamed faintly at first, as the main road did, until climbing above themeads of deadly flowers it faded and went dark, winding its crooked way up intothe northern sides of the valley. Along this path the hobbits trudged, sideby side, unable to see Gollum in front of them, except when he turned back tobeckon them on.Then his eyes shone with a green-white light, reflecting thenoisome Morgul-sheen perhaps, or kindled by some answering mood within.Of thatdeadly gleam and of the dark eyeholes Frodo and Sam were always conscious, everglancing fearfully over their shoulders, and ever dragging their eyes back tofind the darkening path.Slowly they laboured on.As they rose above the stenchand vapours of the poisonous stream their breath became easier and their headsclearer; but now their limbs were deadly tired, as if they had walked all nightunder a burden, or had been swimming long against a heavy tide of water.Atlast they could go no further without a halt. Frodo stopped and sat down on a stone.They had now climbed up to the top of a great hump of bare rock.Ahead of themthere was a bay in the valley-side, and round the head of this the path wenton, no more than a wide ledge with a chasm on the right; across the sheersouthward face of the mountain it crawled upwards, until it disappeared intothe blackness above. `I must rest a while, Sam,' whisperedFrodo.`It's heavy on me, Sam lad, very heavy.I wonder how far I can carry it?Anyway I must rest before we venture on to that.' He pointed to the narrow wayahead. `Sssh! ssh! ' hissed Gollum hurrying backto them.`Sssh! ' His fingers were on his lips and he shook his head urgently.Tugging at Frodo's sleeve, he pointed towards the path; but Frodo would notmove. `Not yet,' he said, 'not yet.' Weariness and more than wearinessoppressed him; it seemed as if a heavy spell was laid on his mind and body.`Imust rest,' he muttered. At this Gollum's fear and agitationbecame so great that he spoke again, hissing behind his hand, as if to keep thesound from unseen listeners in the air.`Not here, no.Not rest here.Fools!Eyes can see us.When they come to the bridge they will see us.Come away!Climb, climb! Come! ' `Come, Mr.Frodo,' said Sam.`He's right,again.We can't stay here.' 'All right,' said Frodo in a remotevoice, as of one speaking half asleep.`I will try.' Wearily he got to hisfeet. But it was too late.At that moment therock quivered and trembled beneath them.The great rumbling noise, louder thanever before, rolled in the ground and echoed in the mountains.Then withsearing suddenness there came a great red flash.Far beyond the easternmountains it leapt into the sky and splashed the lowering clouds with crimson.In that valley of shadow and cold deathly light it seemed unbearably violentand fierce.Peaks of stone and ridges like notched knives sprang out in staringblack against the uprushing flame in Gorgoroth.Then came a great crack ofthunder. And Minas Morgul answered.There was aflare of livid lightnings: forks of blue flame springing up from the tower andfrom the encircling hills into the sullen clouds.The earth groaned; and out ofthe city there came a cry.Mingled with harsh high voices as of birds of prey,and the shrill neighing of horses wild with rage and fear, there came a rendingscreech, shivering, rising swiftly to a piercing pitch beyond the range ofhearing.The hobbits wheeled round towards it, and cast themselves down,holding their hands upon their ears. As the terrible cry ended, falling backthrough a long sickening wail to silence, Frodo slowly raised his head.Acrossthe narrow valley, now almost on a level with his eyes, the walls of the evilcity stood, and its cavernous gate, shaped like an open mouth with gleamingteeth, was gaping wide.And out of the gate an army came. All that host was clad in sable, dark asthe night.Against the wan walls and the luminous pavement of the road Frodocould see them, small black figures in rank upon rank, marching swiftly andsilently, passing outwards in an endless stream.Before them went a greatcavalry of horsemen moving like ordered shadows, and at their head was onegreater than all the rest: a Rider, all black, save that on his hooded head hehad a helm like a crown that flickered with a perilous light.Now he wasdrawing near the bridge below, and Frodo's staring eyes followed him, unable towink or to withdraw.Surely there was the Lord of the Nine Riders returned toearth to lead his ghastly host to battle? Here, yes here indeed was the haggardking whose cold hand had smitten down the Ring-bearer with his deadly knife.The old wound throbbed with pain and a great chill spread towards Frodo'sheart. Even as these thoughts pierced him withdread and held him bound as with a spell, the Rider halted suddenly, rightbefore the entrance of the bridge, and behind him all the host stood still.There was a pause, a dead silence.Maybe it was the Ring that called to theWraith-lord, and for a moment he was troubled, sensing some other power withinhis valley.This way and that turned the dark head helmed and crowned withfear, sweeping the shadows with its unseen eyes.Frodo waited, like a bird atthe approach of a snake, unable to move.And as he waited, he felt, more urgentthan ever before, the command that he should put on the Ring.But great as thepressure was, he felt no inclination now to yield to it.He knew that the Ringwould only betray him, and that he had not, even if he put it on, the power toface the Morgul-king-not yet.There was no longer any answer to that command inhis own will, dismayed by terror though it was, and he felt only the beatingupon him of a great power from outside.It took his hand, and as Frodo watchedwith his mind, not willing it but in suspense (as if he looked on some oldstory far away), it moved the hand inch by inch towards the chain upon hisneck.Then his own will stirred; slowly it forced the hand back.and set it tofind another thing, a thing lying hidden near his breast.Cold and hard itseemed as his grip closed on it: the phial of Galadriel, so long treasured, andalmost forgotten till that hour
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