Tolkien reads - Mount Doom
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- Опубликовано: 26 июл 2017
- J.R.R. Tolkien reads and sings his THE LORD OF THE RINGS The Two Towers & The Return and the King
Side B
Band 4
Book six
(cloth) p. 220
(paper) p. 271
Choose 1080p to read the back cover!
The Two Towers and The Return of the King:
• J.R.R. Tolkien reads a...
The Hobbit and the fellowship of the ring:
• J.R.R. Tolkien reads a...
Poems and songs of Middle Earth:
• J.R.R. Tolkien Poems a...
Frodo in a white robe and a voice that comes out of the burning wheel. An image which is hard to forget.
I read the book like twelve times and i only just now realized Frodo actually uses the ring on Gollum here.
Its disputed. Might be the ring, but its not certain. Gollum could not be entirely cowed by Sauron even.
This passage, and the part where Sam gives Frodo a piggy-back while climbing Mount Doom, reminds me of the song, ‘Death Shall Not Destroy My Comfort’, but in much more subtle ways! And I get teary-eyed whenever I listen to all of them!
There at the bend it was cut deep through a crag of old weathered
stone once long ago vomited from the Mountain’s furnaces. Panting
under his load Sam turned the bend; and even as he did so, out of
the corner of his eye, he had a glimpse of something falling from the
crag, like a small piece of black stone that had toppled off as he
passed.
A sudden weight smote him and he crashed forward, tearing the
backs of his hands that still clasped his master’s. Then he knew what had happened, for above him as he lay he heard a hated voice.
‘Wicked masster!’ it hissed. ‘Wicked masster cheats us; cheats
Sme´agol, gollum. He musstn’t go that way. He musstn’t hurt Preciouss. Give it to Sme´agol, yess, give it to us! Give it to uss!’
With a violent heave Sam rose up. At once he drew his sword;
but he could do nothing. Gollum and Frodo were locked together.
Gollum was tearing at his master, trying to get at the chain and the
Ring. This was probably the only thing that could have roused the
dying embers of Frodo’s heart and will: an attack, an attempt to
wrest his treasure from him by force. He fought back with a sudden
fury that amazed Sam, and Gollum also. Even so things might have
gone far otherwise, if Gollum himself had remained unchanged; but
whatever dreadful paths, lonely and hungry and waterless, he had
trodden, driven by a devouring desire and a terrible fear, they had
left grievous marks on him. He was a lean, starved, haggard thing,
all bones and tight-drawn sallow skin. A wild light flamed in his eyes,
but his malice was no longer matched by his old griping strength.
Frodo flung him off and rose up quivering.
‘Down, down!’ he gasped, clutching his hand to his breast, so that
beneath the cover of his leather shirt he clasped the Ring. ‘Down,
you creeping thing, and out of my path! Your time is at an end. You
cannot betray me or slay me now.’
Then suddenly, as before under the eaves of the Emyn Muil, Sam
saw these two rivals with other vision. A crouching shape, scarcely
more than the shadow of a living thing, a creature now wholly ruined
and defeated, yet filled with a hideous lust and rage; and before it
stood stern, untouchable now by pity, a figure robed in white, but
at its breast it held a wheel of fire. Out of the fire there spoke a
commanding voice.
‘Begone, and trouble me no more! If you touch me ever again,
you shall be cast yourself into the Fire of Doom.’
The crouching shape backed away, terror in its blinking eyes, and
yet at the same time insatiable desire.
Then the vision passed and Sam saw Frodo standing, hand on
breast, his breath coming in great gasps, and Gollum at his feet,
resting on his knees with his wide-splayed hands upon the ground.
‘Look out!’ cried Sam. ‘He’ll spring!’ He stepped forward, brandishing his sword. ‘Quick, Master!’ he gasped. ‘Go on! Go on! No
time to lose. I’ll deal with him. Go on!’
Frodo looked at him as if at one now far away. ‘Yes, I must go
on,’ he said. ‘Farewell, Sam! This is the end at last. On Mount Doom
doom shall fall. Farewell!’ He turned and went on, walking slowly
but erect, up the climbing path.
‘Now!’ said Sam. ‘At last I can deal with you!’ He leaped forward
with drawn blade ready for battle. But Gollum did not spring. He
fell flat upon the ground and whimpered.
‘Don’t kill us,’ he wept. ‘Don’t hurt us with nassty cruel steel! Let
us live, yes, live just a little longer. Lost lost! We’re lost. And when
Precious goes we’ll die, yes, die into the dust.’ He clawed up the
ashes of the path with his long fleshless fingers. ‘Dusst!’ he hissed.
Sam’s hand wavered. His mind was hot with wrath and the
memory of evil. It would be just to slay this treacherous, murderous
creature, just and many times deserved; and also it seemed the only
safe thing to do. But deep in his heart there was something that
restrained him: he could not strike this thing lying in the dust, forlorn,
ruinous, utterly wretched. He himself, though only for a little while,
had borne the Ring, and now dimly he guessed the agony of Gollum’s
shrivelled mind and body, enslaved to that Ring, unable to find peace
or relief ever in life again. But Sam had no words to express what he
felt.
‘Oh, curse you, you stinking thing!’ he said. ‘Go away! Be off! I
don’t trust you, not as far as I could kick you; but be off. Or I shall
hurt you, yes, with nasty cruel steel.’
Gollum got up on all fours, and backed away for several paces,
and then he turned, and as Sam aimed a kick at him he fled away
down the path. Sam gave no more heed to him. He suddenly
remembered his master. He looked up the path and could not see
him. As fast as he could he trudged up the road. If he had looked
back, he might have seen not far below Gollum turn again, and then
with a wild light of madness glaring in his eyes come, swiftly but
warily, creeping on behind, a slinking shadow among the stones.
The path climbed on. Soon it bent again and with a last eastward
course passed in a cutting along the face of the cone and came to
the dark door in the Mountain’s side, the door of the Sammath Naur.
Far away now rising towards the South the sun, piercing the smokes
and haze, burned ominous, a dull bleared disc of red; but all Mordor
lay about the Mountain like a dead land, silent, shadow-folded, waiting for some dreadful stroke.
Sam came to the gaping mouth and peered in. It was dark and
hot, and a deep rumbling shook the air. ‘Frodo! Master!’ he called.
There was no answer. For a moment he stood, his heart beating with
wild fears, and then he plunged in. A shadow followed him.
At first he could see nothing. In his great need he drew out once
more the phial of Galadriel, but it was pale and cold in his trembling
hand and threw no light into that stifling dark. He was come to the
heart of the realm of Sauron and the forges of his ancient might,
greatest in Middle-earth; all other powers were here subdued.
I am glad you are here with me. Here at the end of all things, Sam.
Why it stopped at the very best moment
🙌
VIACOM!
Older here.