The Two Towers: Being the Second Part of The Lord of the Rings
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One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them, One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them
Frodo and his Companions of the Ring have been beset by danger during their quest to prevent the Ruling Ring from falling into the hands of the Dark Lord by destroying it in the Cracks of Doom. They have lost the wizard, Gandalf, in a battle in the Mines of Moria. And Boromir, seduced by the power of the Ring, tried to seize it by force. While Frodo and Sam made their escape, the rest of the company was attacked by Orcs. Now they continue the journey alone down the great River Anduin—alone, that is, save for the mysterious creeping figure that follows wherever they go.
“Among the greatest works of imaginative fiction of the twentieth century. The book presents us with the richest profusion of new lands and creatures, from the beauty of Lothlórien to the horror of Mordor.” – Sunday Telegraph
Some way ahead, a mile or so, perhaps, was a great grey wall, a last huge upthrusting mass of mountain-stone. Darker it loomed, and steadily it rose as they approached, until it towered up high above them, shutting out the view of all that lay beyond. Deep shadow lay before its feet. Sam sniffed the air. ‘Ugh! That smell!’ he said. ‘It’s getting stronger and stronger.’ Presently they were under the shadow, and there in the midst of it they saw the opening of a cave. ‘This is the way in,’ said
slew many of them and the rest fled. But they had not gone far on the way back when they were attacked again, by a hundred Orcs at least, some of them very large, and they shot a rain of arrows: always at Boromir. Boromir had blown his great horn till the woods rang, and at first the Orcs had been dismayed and had drawn back; but when no answer but the echoes came, they had attacked more fiercely than ever. Pippin did not remember much more. His last memory was of Boromir leaning against a tree,
come all the way from the Mines to kill, and avenge our folk. I wish to kill, and then go back north.’ ‘Then you can wish again,’ said the growling voice. ‘I am Uglúk. I command. I return to Isengard by the shortest road.’ ‘Is Saruman the master or the Great Eye?’ said the evil voice. ‘We should go back at once to Lugbúrz.’ ‘If we could cross the Great River, we might,’ said another voice. ‘But there are not enough of us to venture down to the bridges.’ ‘I came across,’ said the evil voice.
left out of the old lists, and the old stories,’ said Merry. ‘Yet we’ve been about for quite a long time. We’re hobbits.’ ‘Why not make a new line?’ said Pippin. ‘Half-grown hobbits, the hole-dwellers. Put us in amongst the four, next to Man (the Big People) and you’ve got it.’ ‘Hm! Not bad, not bad,’ said Treebeard. ‘That would do. So you live in holes, eh? It sounds very right and proper. Who calls you hobbits, though? That does not sound Elvish to me. Elves made all the old words: they
overshadowed all the ground leaving only a broad open path in the middle. A little stream escaped from the springs above, and leaving the main water, fell tinkling down the sheer face of the wall, pouring in silver drops, like a fine curtain in front of the arched bay. The water was gathered again into a stone basin in the floor between the trees, and thence it spilled and flowed away beside the open path, out to rejoin the Entwash in its journey through the forest. ‘Hm! Here we are!’ said