The Lord of the Rings-指环王(英文版)-第25章

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'I　suppose　we　haven't　got　an　axe　among　our　luggage；　Mr。　Frodo？'　asked　Sam。

'I　brought　a　little　hatchet　for　chopping　firewood；'　said　Frodo。　'That　wouldn't　be　much　use。'

'Wait　a　minute！'　cried　Sam；　struck　by　an　idea　suggested　by　firewood。　'We　might　do　something　with　fire！'

'We　might；'　said　Frodo　doubtfully。　'We　might　succeed　in　roasting　Pippin　alive　inside。'

'We　might　try　to　hurt　or　frighten　this　tree　to　begin　with；'　said　Sam　fiercely。　'If　it　don't　let　them　go；　I'll　have　it　down；　if　I　have　to　gnaw　it。'　He　ran　to　the　ponies　and　before　long　came　back　with　two　tinderboxes　and　a　hatchet。

Quickly　they　gathered　dry　grass　and　leaves；　and　bits　of　bark；　and　made　a　pile　of　broken　twigs　and　chopped　sticks。　These　they　heaped　against　the　trunk　on　the　far　side　of　the　tree　from　the　prisoners。　As　soon　as　Sam　had　struck　a　spark　into　the　tinder；　it　kindled　the　dry　grass　and　a　flurry　of　flame　and　smoke　went　up。　The　twigs　crackled。　Little　fingers　of　fire　licked　against　the　dry　scored　rind　of　the　ancient　tree　and　scorched　it。　A　tremor　ran　through　the　whole　willow。　The　leaves　seemed　to　hiss　above　their　heads　with　a　sound　of　pain　and　anger。　A　loud　scream　came　from　Merry；　and　from　far　inside　the　tree　they　heard　Pippin　give　a　muffled　yell。

'Put　it　out！　Put　it　out！'　cried　Merry。　'He'll　squeeze　me　in　two；　if　you　don't。　He　says　so！'

'Who？　What？'　shouted　Frodo；　rushing　round　to　the　other　side　of　the　tree。

'Put　it　out！　Put　it　out！'　begged　Merry。　The　branches　of　the　willow　began　to　sway　violently。　There　was　a　sound　as　of　a　wind　rising　and　spreading　outwards　to　the　branches　of　all　the　other　trees　round　about；　as　though　they　had　dropped　a　stone　into　the　quiet　slumber　of　the　rivervalley　and　set　up　ripples　of　anger　that　ran　out　over　the　whole　Forest。　Sam　kicked　at　the　little　fire　and　stamped　out　the　sparks。　But　Frodo；　without　any　clear　idea　of　why　he　did　so；　or　what　he　hoped　for；　ran　along　the　path　crying　help！　help！　help！　It　seemed　to　him　that　he　could　hardly　hear　the　sound　of　his　own　shrill　voice：　it　was　blown　away　from　him　by　the　willowwind　and　drowned　in　a　clamour　of　leaves；　as　soon　as　the　words　left　his　mouth。　He　felt　desperate：　lost　and　witless。

Suddenly　he　slopped。　There　was　an　answer；　or　so　he　thought；　but　it　seemed　to　e　from　behind　him；　away　down　the　path　further　back　in　the　Forest。　He　turned　round　and　listened；　and　soon　there　could　be　no　doubt：　someone　was　singing　a　song；　a　deep　glad　voice　was　singing　carelessly　and　happily；　but　it　was　singing　nonsense：

Hey　dol！　merry　dol！　ring　a　dong　dillo！
Ring　a　dong！　hop　along！　fal　lal　the　willow！
Tom　Bom；　jolly　Tom；　Tom　Bombadillo！

Half　hopeful　and　half　afraid　of　some　new　danger；　Frodo　and　Sam　now　both　stood　still。　Suddenly　out　of　a　long　string　of　nonsensewords　（or　so　they　seemed）　the　voice　rose　up　loud　and　clear　and　burst　into　this　song：

Hey！　e　merry　dot！　derry　dol！　My　darling！
Light　goes　the　weatherwind　and　the　feathered　starling。
Down　along　under　Hill；　shining　in　the　sunlight；
Waiting　on　the　doorstep　for　the　cold　starlight；
There　my　pretty　lady　is。　Riverwoman's　daughter；
Slender　as　the　willowwand；　clearer　than　the　water。
Old　Tom　Bombadil　waterlilies　bringing
es　hopping　home　again。　Can　you　hear　him　singing？
Hey！　e　merry　dol！　deny　dol！　and　merryo；
Goldberry；　Goldberry；　merry　yellow　berryo！
Poor　old　Willowman；　you　tuck　your　roots　away！
Tom's　in　a　hurry　now。　Evening　will　follow　day。
Tom's　going　home　again　waterlilies　bringing。
Hey！　e　derry　dol！　Can　you　hear　me　singing？

Frodo　and　Sam　stood　as　if　enchanted。　The　wind　puffed　out。　The　leaves　hung　silently　again　on　stiff　branches。　There　was　another　burst　of　song；　and　then　suddenly；　hopping　and　dancing　along　the　path；　there　appeared　above　the　reeds　an　old　battered　hat　with　a　tall　crown　and　a　long　blue　feather　stuck　in　the　band。　With　another　hop　and　a　bound　there　came　into　view　a　man；　or　so　it　seemed。　At　any　rate　he　was　too　large　and　heavy　for　a　hobbit；　if　not　quite　tall　enough　for　one　of　the　Big　People；　though　he　made　noise　enough　for　one；　slumping　along　with　great　yellow　boots　on　his　thick　legs；　and　charging　through　grass　and　rushes　like　a　cow　going　down　to　drink。　He　had　a　blue　coat　and　a　long　brown　beard；　his　eyes　were　blue　and　bright；　and　his　face　was　red　as　a　ripe　apple；　but　creased　into　a　hundred　wrinkles　of　laughter。　In　his　hands　he　carried　on　a　large　leaf　as　on　a　tray　a　small　pile　of　white　waterlilies。

'Help！'　cried　Frodo　and　Sam　running　towards　him　with　their　hands　stretched　out。

'Whoa！　Whoa！　steady　there！'　cried　the　old　man；　holding　up　one　hand；　and　they　stopped　short；　as　if　they　had　been　struck　stiff。　'Now；　my　little　fellows；　where　be　you　agoing　to；　puffing　like　a　bellows？　What's　the　matter　here　then？　Do　you　know　who　I　am？　I'm　Tom　Bombadil。　Tell　me　what's　your　trouble！　Tom's　in　a　hurry　now。　Don't　you　crush　my　lilies！'

'My　friends　are　caught　in　the　willowtree；'　cried　Frodo　breathlessly。

'Master　Merry's　being　squeezed　in　a　crack！'　cried　Sam。

'What？'　shouted　Tom　Bombadil；　leaping　up　in　the　air。　'Old　Man　Willow？　Naught　worse　than　that；　eh？　That　can　soon　be　mended。　I　know　the　tune　for　him。　Old　grey　Willowman！　I'll　freeze　his　marrow　cold；　if　he　don't　behave　himself。　I'll　sing　his　roots　off。　I'll　sing　a　wind　up　and　blow　leaf　and　branch　away。　Old　Man　Willow！'　Setting　down　his　lilies　carefully　on　the　grass；　he　ran　to　the　tree。　There　he　saw　Merry's　feet　still　sticking　out　。　the　rest　had　already　been　drawn　further　inside。　Tom　put　his　mouth　to　the　crack　and　began　singing　into　it　in　a　low　voice。　They　could　not　catch　the　words；　but　evidently　Merry　was　aroused。　His　legs　began　to　kick。　Tom　sprang　away；　and　breaking　off　a　hanging　branch　smote　the　side　of　the　willow　with　it。　'You　let　them　out　again；　Old　Man　Willow！'　he　said。　'What　be　you　athinking　of？　You　should　not　be　waking。　Eat　earth！　Dig　deep！　Drink　water！　Go　to　sleep！　Bombadil　is　talking！'　He　then　seized　Merry's　feet　and　drew　him　out　of　the　suddenly　widening　crack。

There　was　a　tearing　creak　and　the　other　crack　split　open；　and　out　of　it　Pippin　sprang；　as　if　he　had　been　kicked。　Then　with　a　loud　snap　both　cracks　closed　fast　again。　A　shudder　ran　through　the　tree　from　root　to　tip；　and　plete　silence　fell。

'Thank　you！'　said　the　hobbits；　one　after　the　other。

Tom　Bombadil　burst　out　laughing。　'Well；　my　little　fellows！'　said　he；　stooping　so　that　he　peered　into　their　faces。　'You　shall　e　home　with　me！　The　table　is　all　laden　with　yellow　cream；　honeyb；　and　white　bread　and　butter。　Goldberry　is　waiting。　Time　enough　for　questions　around　the　supper　table。　You　follow　after　me　as　quick　as　you　are　able！'　With　that　he　picked　up　his　lilies；　and　then　with　a　beckoning　wave　of　his　hand　went　hopping　and　dancing　along　the　path　eastward；　still　singing　loudly　and　nonsensically。

Too　surprised　and　too　relieved　to　talk；　the　hobbits　followed　after　him　as　fast　as　they　could。　But　that　was　not　fast　enough。　Tom　soon　disappeared　in　front　of　them；　and　the　noise　of　his　singing　got　fainter　and　further　away。　Suddenly　his　voice　came　floating　back　to　them　in　a　loud　halloo！

Hop　along；　my　little　friends；　up　the　Withywindle！
Tom's　going　on　ahead　candles　for　to　kindle。
Down　west　sinks　the　Sun：　soon　you　will　be　groping。
When　the　nightshadows　fall；　then　the　door　will　open；
Out　of　the　windowpanes　light　will　twinkle　yellow。
Fear　no　alder　black！　Heed　no　hoary　willow！
Fear　neither　root　nor　bough！　Tom　goes　on　before　you。
Hey　now！　merry　dot！　We'll　be　waiting　for　you！

After　that　the　hobbits　heard　no　more。　Almost　at　once　the　sun　seemed　to　sink　into　the　trees　behind　them。　They　thought　of　the　slanting　light　of　evening　glittering　on　the　Brandywine　River；　and　the　windows　of　Bucklebury　beginning　to　gleam　with　hundreds　of　lights。　Great　shadows　fell　across　them；　trunks　and　branches　of　trees　hung　dark　and　threatening　over　the　path。　White　mists　began　to　rise　and　curl　on　the　surface　of　the　river　and　stray　about　the　roots　of　the　trees　upon　its　borders。　Out　of　the　very　ground　at　their　feet　a　shadowy　steam　arose　and　mingled　with　the　swiftly　falling　dusk。

It　became　difficult　to　follow　the　path；　and　they　were　very　tired。　Their　legs　seemed　leaden。　Strange　furtive　noises　ran　among　the　bushes　and　reeds　on　either　side　of　them；　and　if　they　looked　up　to　the　pale　sky；　they　caught　sight　of　queer　gnarled　and　knobbly　faces　that　gloomed　dark　against　the　twilight；　and　leered　down　at　them　from　the　high　bank　and　the　edges　of　the　wood。　They　began　to　feel　that　all　this　country　was　unreal；　and　that　they　were　stumbling　through　an　ominous　dream　that　led　to　no　awakening。

Just　as　they　felt　their　feet　slowing　down　to　a　standstill；　they　noticed　that　the　ground　was　gently　rising。　The　water　began　to　murmur。　In　the　darkness　they　caught　the　white　glimmer　of　foam；　where　the　river　flowed　over　a　short　fall。　Then　suddenly　the　trees　came　to　an　end　and　the　mists　were　left　behind。　They　stepped　out　from　the　Forest；　and　found　a　wide　sweep　of　grass　welling　up　before　them。　The　river；　now　small　and　swift；　was　leaping　merrily　down　to　meet　them；　glinting　here　and　there　in　the　light　of　the　stars；　which　were　already　shining　in　the　sky。

The　grass　under　their　feet　was　smooth　and　short；　as　if　it　had　been　mown　or　shaven。　The　eaves　of　the　Forest　behind　were　clipped；　and　trim　as　a　hedge。　The　path　was　now　plain　before　them；　welltended　and　bordered　with　stone。　It　wound　up　on　to　the　top　of　a　grassy　knoll；　now　grey　under　the　pale　starry　night；　and　there；　still　high　above　them　on　a　further　slope；　they　saw　the　twinkling　lights　of　a　house。　Down　again　the　path　went；　and　then　up　again；　up　a　long　smooth　hillside　of　turf；　towards　the　light。　Suddenly　a　wide　yellow　beam　flowed　out　brightly　from　a　door　that　was　opened。　There　was　Tom　Bombadil's　house　before　them；　up；　down；　under　hill。　Behind　it　a　steep　shoulder　of　the　land　lay　grey　and　bare；　and　beyond　that　the　dark　shapes　of　the　Barrowdowns　stalked　away　into　the　eastern　night。

They　all　hurried　forward；　hobbits　and　ponies。　Already　half　their　weariness　and　all　their　fears　had　fallen　from　them。　Hey！　e　merry　dol！　rolled　out　the　song　to　greet　them。

Hey！　e　derry　dol！　Hop　along；　my　hearties！
Hobbits！　Ponies　all！　We　are　fond　of　parties。
Now　let　the　fun　begin！　Let　us　sing　together！

Then　another　clear　voice；　as　young　and　as　ancient　as　Spring；　like　the　song　of　a　glad　water　flowing　down　into　the　night　from　a　bright　morning　in