[Marya]

Не знаю, куда запостить, пощу сюда.

LOTR - ROTK - Chapter 3: Mount Doom.
Sammath Naur.

Sam came to the gaping mouth and peered in. It was dark and hot, and a deep rumbling shook the air. 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. Fearfully he took a few uncertain steps in the dark, and then all at once there came a flash of red that leaped upward, and smote the high black roof. Then Sam saw that he was in a long cave or tunnel that bored into the Mountain’s smoking cone. But only a short way ahead its floor and the walls on either side were cloven by a great fissure, out of which the red glare came, now leaping up, now dying down into darkness.
The light sprang up again, and there on the brink of the chasm, on a bridge of stone leading to the very Crack of Doom, stood Frodo, black against the glare, tense, erect, but still as if he had been turned to stone.

‘Frodo!’ cried Sam.
‘I am here, Sam,’ said Frodo quietly. He was holding the Ring on its chain in his outstretched hand, about to hurl it into the abyss. But he was hesitating. Some thought was evidently occupying his mind.
‘Destroy it!’ – cried Sam. ‘Go on! Now! Throw it into the fire!’. And still Frodo lingered and did nothing.
‘What are you waiting for?’ Sam shouted in exasperation.

Then Frodo stirred and suddenly turned to Sam. He was slowly taking the Ring off its chain.
‘The Ring is mine!’, he said.
‘No!’ cried Sam. ‘No!!!!’

But suddenly, as Frodo set the Ring on his finger, he vanished from Sam’s sight. Sam gasped, but he had no chance to cry out, for at that moment many things happened.
Something struck Sam violently on the head, his legs were knocked from under him and he was flung aside, as a dark shape sprang over him. He lay still and for a moment all went black.

And far away, as Frodo put on the Ring and claimed it for his own, even in Sammath Naur the very heart of his realm, the Power in Barad-dûr was shaken, and the Tower trembled from its foundations to its proud and bitter crown where the cruel Eye of the Enemy was set. The Dark Lord was suddenly aware of him, and his Eye piercing all shadows looked across the plain to the door that he had made; and the magnitude of his own folly was revealed to him in a blinding flash, and all the devices of his enemies were at last laid bare. Then his wrath blazed in consuming flame, but his fear rose like a vast black smoke to choke him. For he knew his deadly peril and the thread upon which his doom now hung.
From all his policies and webs of fear and treachery, from all his stratagems and wars his mind shook free; and throughout his realm a tremor ran, his slaves quailed, and his armies halted, and his captains suddenly steerless, bereft of will, wavered and despaired. For they were forgotten. The whole mind and purpose of the Power that wielded them was now bent with overwhelming force upon the Mountain. At his summons, wheeling with a rending cry, in a last desperate race there flew, faster than the winds, the Nazgûl the Ringwraiths, and with a storm of wings they hurtled southwards to Mount Doom.

Sam got up. He was dazed, and blood streaming from his head dripped in his eyes. He groped forward, and then he saw a strange and terrible thing. Gollum on the edge of the abyss was fighting like a mad thing with an unseen foe. To and fro he swayed, now so near the brink that almost he tumbled in, now dragging back, falling to the ground, rising, and falling again. And all the while he hissed but spoke no words.
The fires below awoke in anger, the red light blazed, and all the cavern was filled with a great glare and heat. Suddenly Sam saw Gollum’s long hands draw upwards to his mouth; his white fangs gleamed, and then snapped as they bit. Frodo gave a cry, and there he was, fallen upon his knees at the chasm’s edge.

‘Yes! Yes!’ Gollum cried. He was laughing a horrible gurgling laugh, dancing like a mad thing, holding aloft the ring, a finger still thrust within its circle. It shone now as if verily it was wrought of living fire.

Sam got up and tried to get to Frodo and help him. But Frodo was seized by a sudden fury. He leapt to his feet and attacked Gollum, trying to wrestle the Ring back from him. For a moment they were locked together, but then they stepped too far, toppled, wavered for a moment on the brink, and then with a shriek they fell over the edge of the abyss. It was a strange thing to behold: Gollum falling with the Ring still clutched in his hand, a covetous and satisfied expression on his drawn face. The lava absorbed him, but still the Ring lay on the surface glinting.

Sam looked over and saw Frodo, a foot or two below, still desperately clinging to the ledge with what remained of his strength. He was gazing down on the Ring, still visible on the lava, with its inscription now blazing clear upon it.

‘Give me your hand’, said Sam desperately. ‘Take my hand!’
He was trying to reach to Frodo, but he was beyond the length of his outstretched hand, and he seemed to have no strength of limb or will left to cling on. He was slipping further away and looking at Sam with eyes full of despair. He was about to let go.

‘No!’ shouted Sam. ‘Don’t you let go! Reach!’
Frodo tried to reach Sam with his wounded hand, blood streaming from it. His first attempt was not far enough, but he made another effort. Their hands met and clasped, and slowly, Sam pulled Frodo out to the stone bridge.

At that moment, the Ring sank into the lava and was melted.