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Cytat
Do celu tam się wysiada. Lec Stanisław Jerzy (pierw. de Tusch-Letz, 1909-1966)
A bogowie grają w kości i nie pytają wcale czy chcesz przyłączyć się do gry (. . . ) Bogowie kpią sobie z twojego poukładanego życia (. . . ) nie przejmują się zbytnio ani naszymi planami na przyszłość ani oczekiwaniami. Gdzieś we wszechświecie rzucają kości i przypadkiem wypada twoja kolej. I odtąd zwyciężyć lub przegrać - to tylko kwestia szczęścia. Borys Pasternak
Idąc po kurzych jajach nie podskakuj. Przysłowie szkockie
I Herkules nie poradzi przeciwko wielu.
Dialog półinteligentów równa się monologowi ćwierćinteligenta. Stanisław Jerzy Lec (pierw. de Tusch - Letz, 1909-1966)
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.'I wonder who made this path, and what for,' said Merry, as they walkedalong one of these avenues, where the stones were unusually large andclosely set.'I am not sure that I like it: it has a - well, rather abarrow-wightish look.Is there any barrow on Weathertop?''No.There is no barrow on Weathertop, nor on any of these hills,'answered Strider.'The Men of the West did not live here; though in theirlatter days they defended the hills for a while against the evil that came out of Angmar.This path was made to serve the forts along the walls.Butlong before, in the first days of the North Kingdom, they built a greatwatch-tower on Weathertop, Amon Syl they called it.It was burned andbroken, and nothing remains of it now but a tumbled ring, like a rough crownon the old hill's head.Yet once it was tall and fair.It is told thatElendil stood there watching for the coming of Gil-galad out of the West, inthe days of the Last Alliance.'The hobbits gazed at Strider.It seemed that he was learned in oldlore, as well as in the ways of the wild.'Who was Gil-galad?' asked Merry;but Strider did not answer, and seemed to be lost in thought.Suddenly a lowvoice murmured:Gil-galad was an Elven-king.Of him the harpers sadly sing:the last whose realm was fair and freebetween the Mountains and the Sea.His sword was long, his lance was keen,his shining helm afar was seen;the countless stars of heaven's fieldwere mirrored in his silver shield.But long ago he rode away,and where he dwelleth none can say;for into darkness fell his starin Mordor where the shadows are.The others turned in amazement, for the voice was Sam's.'Don't stop!' said Merry.'That's all I know,' stammered Sam, blushing.'I learned it from Mr.Bilbo when I was a lad.He used to tell me tales like that, knowing how Iwas always one for hearing about Elves.It was Mr.Bilbo as taught me myletters.He was mighty book-learned was dear old Mr.Bilbo.And he wrotepoetry.He wrote what I have just said.''He did not make it up,' said Strider.'It is pan of the lay that iscalled The Fall of Gil-galad, which is in an ancient tongue.Bilbo must havetranslated it.I never knew that.''There was a lot more,' said Sam, 'all about Mordor.I didn't learnthat part, it gave me the shivers I never thought I should be going that way myself!''Going to Mordor!' cried Pippin.'I hope it won't come to that!''Do not speak that name so loudly!' said Strider.It was already mid-day when they drew near the southern end of thepath, and saw before them, in the pale clear light of the October sun, agrey-green bank, leading up like a bridge on to the northward slope of thehill They decided to make for the top at once, while the daylight was broadConcealment was no longer possible, and they could only hope that no enemyor spy was observing them.Nothing was to be seen moving on the hill.IfGandalf was anywhere about, there was no sign of him.On the western flank of Weathertop they found a sheltered hollow, atthe bottom of which there was a bowl-shaped dell with grassy sides.Therethey left Sam and Pippin with the pony and their packs and luggage.Theother three went on.After half an hour's plodding climb Strider reached thecrown of the hill; Frodo and Merry followed, tired and breathless.The lastslope had been steep and rocky.On the top they found, as Strider had said, a wide ring of ancientstonework, now crumbling or covered with age-long grass.But in the centre acairn of broken stones had been piled.They were blackened as if with fire.About them the turf was burned to the roots and all within the ring thegrass was scorched and shrivelled, as if flames had swept the hill-top; butthere was no sign of any living thing.Standing upon the rim of the ruined circle, they saw all round belowthem a wide prospect, for the most pan of lands empty and featureless,except for patches of woodland away to the south, beyond which they caughthere and there the glint of distant water.Beneath them on this southernside there ran like a ribbon the Old Road, coming out of the West andwinding up and down, until it faded behind a ridge of dark land to the east.Nothing was moving on it.Following its line eastward with their eyes theysaw the Mountains: the nearer foothills were brown and sombre;behind them stood taller shapes of grey, and behind those again werehigh white peaks glimmering among the clouds.'Well, here we are!' said Merry.'And very cheerless and uninviting itlooks! There is no water and no shelter.And no sign of Gandalf.But I don'tblame him for not waiting - if he ever came here.''I wonder,' said Strider, looking round thoughtfully.'Even if he was aday or two behind us at Bree, he could have arrived here first.He can ride very swiftly when need presses.' Suddenly he stooped and looked at the stoneon the top of the cairn; it was flatter than the others, and whiter, as ifit had escaped the fire.He picked it up and examined it, turning it in hisfingers."This has been handled recently,' he said.'What do you think ofthese marks?'On the flat under-side Frodo saw some scratches: 'There seems to he astroke, a dot, and three more strokes,' he said.'The stroke on the left might be a G-rune with thin branches,' saidStrider.'It might be a sign left by Gandalf, though one cannot be sure.Thescratches are fine, and they certainly look fresh.But the marks might meansomething quite different, and have nothing to do with us.Rangers userunes, and they come here sometimes.''What could they mean, even if Gandalf made them?' asked Merry'I should say,' answered Strider, 'that they stood for G3, and were asign that Gandalf was here on October the third: that is three days ago now.It would also show that he was in a hurry and danger was at hand, so that hehad no time or did not dare to write anything longer or plainer.If that isso, we must be wary.''I wish we could feel sure that he made the marks, whatever they maymean,' said Frodo 'It would be a great comfort to know that he was on theway, in front of us or behind us.''Perhaps,' said Strider.'For myself, I believe that he was here, andwas in danger.There have been scorching flames here; and now the light thatwe saw three nights ago in the eastern sky comes back to my mind.I guessthat he was attacked on this hill-top, but with what result I cannot tell.He is here no longer, and we must now look after ourselves and make our ownway to Rivendell, as best we can ''How far is Rivendell?' asked Merry, gazing round wearily.The worldlooked wild and wide from Weathertop.'I don't know if the Road has ever been measured in miles beyond theForsaken Inn, a day's journey east of Bree,' answered Strider.'Some say itis so far, and some say otherwise.It is a strange road, and folk are gladto reach their journey's end, whether the time is long or short.But I knowhow long it would take me on my own feet, with fair weather and no illfortune twelve days from here to the Ford of Bruinen, where the Road crossesthe Loudwater that runs out of Rivendell.We have at least a fortnight'sjourney before us, for I do not think we shall be able to use the Road.' 'A fortnight!' said Frodo.'A lot may happen in that time
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