They made their way slowly and
cautiously round the south-western slopes of the hill, and came in a little while to the
edge of the Road. There was no sign of the Riders. But even as they were hurrying across
they heard far away two cries: a cold voice calling and a cold voice answering. Trembling
they sprang forward, and made for the thickets that lay ahead. The land before them sloped
away southwards, but it was wild and pathless; bushes and stunted trees grew in dense
patches with wide barren spaces in between. The grass was scanty, coarse, and grey; and
the leaves in the thickets were faded and falling. It was a cheerless land, and their
journey was slow and gloomy. They spoke little as they trudged along. Frodo's heart was
grieved as he watched them walking beside him with their heads down, and their backs bowed
under their burdens. Even Strider seemed tired and heavy-hearted.
Back
