بخش 08

That horse is half mad, my lord. There’s nothing you can do. Leave him.

His name is Brego.

He was my cousin’s horse.

Brego.

Ðin nama is cynglic (Your name is kingly.)

I have heard of the magic of Elves…

but I did not look for it in a Ranger from the North.

You speak as one of their own.

I was raised in Rivendell…

for a time.

Turn this fellow free.

He’s seen enough of war.

Gandalf the White.

Gandalf the Fool!

Does he seek to humble me with his newfound piety?

There were three who followed the wizard.

An Elf, a Dwarf and a Man.

You stink of horse.

The Man…

was he from Gondor? No, from the North.

One of the Dunedain Rangers, I thought he was.

His cloth was poor.

And yet he bore a strange ring.

Two serpents with emerald eyes.

One devouring, the other crowned with golden flowers.

The Ring of Barahir.

So Gandalf Greyhame thinks he has found Isildur’s heir.

The lost king of Gondor. He is a fool.

The line was broken years ago.

It matters not.

The world of Men shall fall.

It will begin at Edoras.

I am ready, Gamling.

Bring my horse.

This is not a defeat.

We will return.

We will return.

You have some skill with a blade.

Women of this country learned long ago

Those without swords can still die upon them.

I fear neither death nor pain.

What do you fear, my lady?

A cage.

To stay behind bars until use and old age accept them.

And all chance of valor has gone beyond recall or desire.

You’re a daughter of kings…

a shield maiden of Rohan.

I do not think that would be your fate.

Theoden will not stay at Edoras.

It’s vulnerable. He knows this.

He will expect an attack on the city.

They will flee to Helm’s Deep…

the great fortress of Rohan.

It is a dangerous road to take through the mountains.

They will be slow.

They will have women and children with them.

Send out your Wargriders.

Hey, stinker, don’t go getting too far ahead.

Why do you do that? What?

Call him names. Run him down all the time.

Because.

Because that’s what he is, Mr. Frodo.

There’s naught left in him but lies and deceit.

It’s the Ring he wants. It’s all he cares about.

You have no idea what it did to him…

what it’s still doing to him.

I want to help him, Sam.

Why?

Because I have to believe he can come back.

You can’t save him, Mr. Frodo.

What do you know about it? Nothing!

I’m sorry, Sam. I don’t know why I said that.

I do.

It’s the Ring.

You can’t take your eyes off it.

I’ve seen you.

You’re not eating. You barely sleep.

It’s taken hold of you, Mr. Frodo.

You have to fight it. I know what I have to do, Sam.

The Ring was entrusted to me. It’s my task.

Mine! My own!

Can’t you hear yourself?

Don’t you know who you sound like?

We wants it.

We needs it.

Must have the precious.

They stole it from us.

Sneaky little Hobbitses.

Wicked. Tricksy. False.

No. Not master.

Yes, precious. False.

They will cheat you, hurt you, lie!

Master’s my friend.

You don’t have any friends. Nobody likes you.

Not listening. I’m not listening.

You’re a liar and a thief.

No.

Murderer.

Go away.

Go away?

I hate you.

I hate you.

Where would you be without me? Gollum. Gollum.

I saved us.

It was me. We survived because of me.

Not anymore.

What did you say?

Master looks after us now.

We don’t need you.

What?

Leave now…

and never come back.

No.

Leave now and never come back.

Leave now and never come back!

We told him to go away.

And away he goes, precious.

Gone! Gone! Gone!

Smeagol is free!

Look.

Look. See what Smeagol finds?

They are young.

They are tender. They are nice.

Yes, they are. Eat them. Eat them!

You’ll make him sick, you will…

behaving like that.

There’s only one way to eat a brace of coneys.

What’s it doing?

Stupid, fat Hobbit.

It ruins it.

What’s to ruin? There’s hardly any meat on them.

What we need is a few good taters.

What’s taters, precious?

What’s taters? Eh?

Potatoes.

Boil them, mash them, stick them in a stew.

Lovely, big, golden chips with a nice piece of fried fish.

Even you couldn’t say no to that.

Oh, yes, we could.

Spoil a nice fish.

Give it to us raw…

and wriggling.

You keep nasty chips.

You’re hopeless.