LORD OF THE RINGS THE TWO TOWERS EBOOK
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Read "The Two Towers Being the Second Part of The Lord of the Rings" by J.R.R. Tolkien available from Rakuten Kobo. Sign up today and get $5 off your first. The Lord of the Rings The Two Towers. Read more · Lord of the Rings, Part 2, The Two Towers · Read more · The The Two Towers. Read more · Lord Of The. Read The Two Towers (The Lord of the Rings #2) online free from your iPhone, iPad, android, Pc, Mobile. The Two Towers is a Fantasy novel by J.R.R. Tolkien.
Like acardona Jan 07, This book move much faster than the Fellowship of the Ring. As Tolkien splits up the Fellowship into two groups, he also moves to split the book into two distinct halves, both equally enjoyable in their own right.
The book continues to develop the character relationships and introduce a whole slew of new characters at the same time. The world continues to unfurl as the Fellowship continues their march into the unknown and Tolkien's writing really shines throughout the whole of this book.
Like Andrew Kyle Bacon Jan 05, This book divides the narrative of the fellowship now broken into two separate narratives, each taking up one half of the book. The first half, involving Aragon, Legolas, and Gimli, are fascinating and quick. The action is wonderful, the characters colorfully drawn, and the narrative engaging. Orcs travel fast. But Saruman has many ways of learning news. Do you remember the birds?
Taking his axe the Dwarf now cut several branches. These they lashed together with bowstrings, and spread their cloaks upon the frame. Upon this rough bier they carried the body of their companion to the shore, together with such trophies of his last battle as they chose to send forth with him. It was only a short way, yet they found it no easy task, for Boromir was a man both tall and strong.
At the water-side Aragorn remained, watching the bier. It was a mile or more, and it was some time before they came back, paddling two boats swiftly along the shore. We could find no trace of the other. Now they laid Boromir in the middle of the boat that was to bear him away. The grey hood and elven-cloak they folded and placed beneath his head.
They combed his long dark hair and arrayed it upon his shoulders. His helm they set beside him, and across his lap they laid the cloven horn and the hilts and shards of his sword; beneath his feet they put the swords of his enemies.
Then fastening the prow to the stern of the other boat, they drew him out into the water. They rowed sadly along the shore, and turning into the swift-running channel they passed the green sward of Parth Galen. The steep sides of Tol Brandir were glowing: As they went south the fume of Rauros rose and shimmered before them, a haze of gold. The rush and thunder of the falls shook the windless air. Sorrowfully they cast loose the funeral boat: The stream took him while they held their own boat back with their paddles.
He floated by them, and slowly his boat departed, waning to a dark spot against the golden light; and then suddenly it vanished.
Rauros roared on unchanging. The River had taken Boromir son of Denethor, and he was not seen again in Minas Tirith, standing as he used to stand upon the White Tower in the morning. But in Gondor in after-days it long was said that the elven-boat rode the falls and the foaming pool, and bore him down through Osgiliath, and past the many mouths of Anduin, out into the Great Sea at night under the stars.
For a while the three companions remained silent, gazing after him. Then Aragorn spoke. So they ended. Then they turned their boat and drove it with all the speed they could against the stream back to Parth Galen. But now Boromir has taken his road.
He surveyed the green lawn, quickly but thoroughly, stooping often to the earth.
All our footprints are here, crossing and re-crossing. I cannot tell whether any of the hobbits have come back since the search for Frodo began. Aragorn did not answer at once, but went back to the camping-place and looked at the baggage. This then is the answer: Frodo has gone by boat, and his servant has gone with him. Frodo must have returned while we were all away. I met Sam going up the hill and told him to follow me; but plainly he did not do so. He guessed his master s mind and came back here before Frodo had gone.
He did not find it easy to leave Sam behind! Frodo did not wish to lead any friend to death with him in Mordor. But he knew that he must go himself. Something happened after he left us that overcame his fear and doubt. The last words of Boromir he long kept secret. And Sam is with him; only he would have taken his pack. There is little hope either way. We have already lost precious hours.
My heart speaks clearly at last: The Company has played its part. Yet we that remain cannot forsake our companions while we have strength left. We will go now. Leave all that can be spared behind! We will press on by day and dark! They drew up the last boat and carried it to the trees. They laid beneath it such of their goods as they did not need and could not carry away. Then they left Parth Galen. The afternoon was fading as they came back to the glade where Boromir had fallen.
There they picked up the trail of the Orcs.
It needed little skill to find. And later we may have to search for our path in hard bare lands. But it will be a long chase: But come! With hope or without hope we will follow the trail of our enemies. And woe to them, if we prove the swifter! Dwarves, and Men. Forth the Three Hunters! Like a deer he sprang away. Through the trees he sped. On and on he led them, tireless and swift, now that his mind was at last made up.
The woods about the lake they left behind. Long slopes they climbed, dark, hard-edged against the sky already red with sunset. Dusk came. They passed away, grey shadows in a stony land.
Dusk deepened. Mist lay behind them among the trees below, and brooded on the pale margins of the Anduin, but the sky was clear. Stars came out. The waxing moon was riding in the West, and the shadows of the rocks were black.
They had come to the feet of stony hills, and their pace was slower, for the trail was no longer easy to follow. Here the highlands of the Emyn Muil ran from North to South in two long tumbled ridges. The western side of each ridge was steep and difficult, but the eastward slopes were gentler, furrowed with many gullies and narrow ravines.
All night the three companions scrambled in this bony land, climbing to the crest of the first and tallest ridge, and down again into the darkness of a deep winding valley on the other side. There in the still cool hour before dawn they rested for a brief space. The moon had long gone down before them, the stars glittered above them; the first light of day had not yet come over the dark hills behind.
For the moment Aragorn was at a loss: Or southward to strike the Entwash? Let us search northwards! The dale ran like a stony trough between the ridged hills, and a trickling stream flowed among the boulders at the bottom.
A cliff frowned upon their right; to their left rose grey slopes, dim and shadowy in the late night. They went on for a mile or more northwards. Aragorn was searching. Legolas was some way ahead. Suddenly the Elf gave a cry and the others came running towards him. Five dead Orcs lay there. They had been hewn with many cruel strokes, and two had been beheaded. The ground was wet with their dark blood.
Do any folk dwell in these hills? It might be that some company of Men were hunting here for reasons that we do not know. Yet I think not. Among the slain are none of the great Orcs with the strange badges. There was a quarrel, I guess: Maybe there was some dispute about the road. Aragorn searched the ground in a wide circle, but no other traces of the fight could be found. They went on. Already the eastward sky was turning pale; the stars were fading, and a grey light was slowly growing.
A little further north they came to a fold in which a tiny stream, falling and winding, had cut a stony path down into the valley. In it some bushes grew, and there were patches of grass upon its sides. Up this water-channel: Swiftly now the pursuers turned and followed the new path. As if fresh from a night's rest they sprang from stone to stone. At last they reached the crest of the grey hill, and a sudden breeze blew in their hair and stirred their cloaks: Turning back they saw across the River the far hills kindled.
Day leaped into the sky. The red rim of the sun rose over the shoulders of the dark land. Before them in the West the world lay still, formless and grey; but even as they looked, the shadows of night melted, the colours of the waking earth returned: Not yet does my road lie southward to your bright streams. Now let us go!
The ridge upon which the companions stood went down steeply before their feet. Below it twenty fathoms or more, there was a wide and rugged shelf which ended suddenly in the brink of a sheer cliff: So ended the Emyn Muil, and the green plains of the Rohirrim stretched away before them to the edge of sight.
He is very high. He seems to be flying now away, from this land back to the North. He is going with great speed. I wonder what is his errand, if he is the same bird that I have seen before. But look! I can see something nearer at hand and more urgent; there is something moving over the plain!
They are many leagues away: They followed their enemies now by the clear light of day. It seemed that the Orcs had pressed on with all possible speed. Every now and again the pursuers found things that had been dropped or cast away: The trail led them north along the top of the escarpment, and at length they came to a deep cleft carved in the rock by a stream that splashed noisily down.
In the narrow ravine a rough path descended like a steep stair into the plain. At the bottom they came with a strange suddenness on the grass of Rohan. It swelled like a green sea up to the very foot of the Emyn Muil.
The falling stream vanished into a deep growth of cresses and water-plants, and they could hear it tinkling away in green tunnels, down long gentle slopes towards the fens of Entwash Vale far away.
They seemed to have left winter clinging to the hills behind. Here the air was softer and warmer, and faintly scented, as if spring was already stirring and the sap was flowing again in herb and leaf. Legolas took a deep breath, like one that drinks a great draught after long thirst in barren places.
Now we have a chance to lessen their lead! They went in single file, running like hounds on a strong scent, and an eager light was in their eyes. Nearly due west the broad swath of the marching Orcs tramped its ugly slot; the sweet grass of Rohan had been bruised and blackened as they passed.
Presently Aragorn gave a cry and turned aside. These, however, did not go far before they were crossed by orc-prints, also coming out from the main trail behind and in front, and then they curved sharply back again and were lost in the trampling. At the furthest point Aragorn stooped and picked up something from the grass; then he ran back. Pippin's I think. He is smaller than the other. And look at this!
He held up a thing that glittered in the sunlight. It looked like the new-opened leaf of a beech-tree, fair and strange in that treeless plain. I think Pippin ran away from the trail for that purpose. That is heartening. We do not pursue in vain. Let us go on! The thought of those merry young folk driven like cattle burns my heart. The sun climbed to the noon and then rode slowly down the sky.
Light clouds came up out of the sea in the distant South and were blown away upon the breeze. The sun sank. Shadows rose behind and reached out long arms from the East. Still the hunters held on. One day now had passed since Boromir fell, and the Orcs were yet far ahead. No longer could any sight of them be seen in the level plains. As nightshade was closing about them Aragorn halted. Only twice in the day's march had they rested for a brief while, and twelve leagues now lay between them and the eastern wall where they had stood at dawn.
If a prisoner should escape, or if one should be carried off, eastward, say, to the Great River, towards Mordor, we might pass the signs and never know it. Their present course bears me out. In the dark we should have passed the signs that led you to the brooch. How that is to be done cannot be guessed, but first we must overtake them. And if we rest, then the blind night is the time to do so. If the Moon gave enough light, we would use it, but alas! Ours is but a small matter in the great deeds of this time.
A vain pursuit from its beginning, maybe, which no choice of mine can mar or mend. Well, I have chosen. So let us use the time as best we may! He cast himself on the ground and fell at once into sleep, for he had not slept since their night under the shadow of Tol Brandir.
Before dawn was in the sky he woke and rose. Gimli was still deep in slumber, but Legolas was standing, gazing northwards into the darkness, thoughtful and silent as a young tree in a windless night. Only an eagle could overtake them now. Stooping he roused the Dwarf.
We must go,' he said. He lay there motionless, for so long a time that Gimli wondered if he had swooned or fallen asleep again. Dawn came glimmering, and slowly a grey light grew about them. At last he rose, and now his friends could see his face: Faint and far are the feet of our enemies.
But loud are the hoofs of the horses. It comes to my mind that I heard them, even as I lay on the ground in sleep, and they troubled my dreams: But now they are drawing ever further from us, riding northward. I wonder what is happening in this land! So the third day of their pursuit began. During all its long hours of cloud and fitful sun they hardly paused, now striding, now running, as if no weariness could quench the fire that burned them.
They seldom spoke. Over the wide solitude they passed and their elven-cloaks faded against the background of the grey-green fields; even in the cool sunlight of mid-day few but elvish eyes would have marked them, until they were close at hand. All day the track of their enemies led straight on, going north-west without a break or turn. As once again the day wore to its end they came to long treeless slopes, where the land rose, swelling up towards a line of low humpbacked downs ahead.
The orc-trail grew fainter as it bent north towards them, for the ground became harder and the grass shorter. Far away to the left the river Entwash wound, a silver thread in a green floor. No moving thing could be seen. Often Aragorn wondered that they saw no sign of beast or man. The dwellings of the Rohirrim were for the most part many leagues away to the South, under the wooded eaves of the White Mountains, now hidden in mist and cloud; yet the Horse-lords had formerly kept many herds and studs in the Eastemnet, this easterly region of their realm, and there the herdsmen had wandered much, living in camp and tent, even in winter-time.
But now all the land was empty, and there was silence that did not seem to be the quiet of peace. At dusk they halted again. Now twice twelve leagues they had passed over the plains of Rohan and the wall of the Emyn Muil was lost in the shadows of the East. The young moon was glimmering in a misty sky, but it gave small light, and the stars were veiled.
I fear they have already reached the forest and the dark hills, and even now are passing into the shadows of the trees. Yet I am weary. I distrust the silence. I distrust even the pale Moon. The stars are faint; and I am weary as I have seldom been before, weary as no Ranger should be with a clear trail to follow.
There is some will that lends speed to our foes and sets an unseen barrier before us: For the will is not behind us but before us. Halt we must once more; for, see! But north lies our road between down and fen when day returns. As before Legolas was first afoot, if indeed he had ever slept. Strange things await us by the eaves of the forest. Good or evil, I do not know; but we are called.
The others sprang up, and almost at once they set off again. Slowly the downs drew near. It was still an hour before noon when they reached them: At their feet the ground was dry and the turf short, but a long strip of sunken land, some ten miles wide, lay between them and the river wandering deep in dim thickets of reed and rush. Just to the West of the southernmost slope there was a great ring, where the turf had been torn and beaten by many trampling feet.
From it the orc-trail ran out again, turning north along the dry skirts of the hills. Aragorn halted and examined the tracks closely. I fear that your heart spoke truly, Legolas: If they held to their pace, then at sundown yesterday they would reach the borders of Fangorn. They would be more willing, if my heart were less heavy. The sun was sinking when at last they drew near to the end of the line of downs.
For many hours they had marched without rest. They were going slowly now, and Gimli's back was bent. Stone-hard are the Dwarves in labour or journey, but this endless chase began to tell on him, as all hope failed in his heart. Aragorn walked behind him, grim and silent, stooping now and again to scan some print or mark upon the ground.
Only Legolas still stepped as lightly as ever, his feet hardly seeming to press the grass.
Wearily they followed him, climbing the long slope, until they came out upon the top. It was a round hill smooth and bare, standing by itself, the most northerly of the downs.
The Lord of the Rings The two towers
The sun sank and the shadows of evening fell like a curtain. They were alone in a grey formless world without mark or measure. Only far away north-west there was a deeper darkness against the dying light: It is growing cold!
Yet do not cast all hope away. Tomorrow is unknown. Rede oft is found at the rising of the Sun. The night grew ever colder. Aragorn and Gimli slept fitfully, and whenever they awoke they saw Legolas standing beside them, or walking to and fro, singing softly to himself in his own tongue, and as he sang the white stars opened in the hard black vault above.
So the night passed. Together they watched the dawn grow slowly in the sky, now bare and cloudless, until at last the sunrise came. It was pale and clear. The wind was in the East and all the mists had rolled away; wide lands lay bleak about them in the bitter light. Ahead and eastward they saw the windy uplands of the Wold of Rohan that they had already glimpsed many days ago from the Great River.
North-westward stalked the dark forest of Fangorn; still ten leagues away stood its shadowy eaves, and its further slopes faded into the distant blue.
Beyond there glimmered far away, as if floating on a grey cloud, the white head of tall Methedras, the last peak of the Misty Mountains.
The Two Towers
Out of the forest the Entwash flowed to meet them, its stream now swift and narrow, and its banks deep-cloven. The orc-trail turned from the downs towards it. Following with his keen eyes the trail to the river, and then the river back towards the forest, Aragorn saw a shadow on the distant green, a dark swift-moving blur.
He cast himself upon the ground and listened again intently. But Legolas stood beside him, shading his bright elven-eyes with his long slender hand, and he saw not a shadow, nor a blur, but the small figures of horsemen, many horsemen, and the glint of morning on the tips of their spears was like the twinkle of minute stars beyond the edge of mortal sight.
Far behind them a dark smoke rose in thin curling threads. Yellow is their hair, and bright are their spears.
Their leader is very tall. Shall we wait for them here or go on our way? Or at least others were before us; for these horsemen are riding back down the orc-trail.
We may get new s from them. The three companions now left the hill-top, where they might be an easy mark against the pale sky, and they walked slowly down the northward slope. A little above the hill's foot they halted, and wrapping their cloaks about them, they sat huddled together upon the faded grass. The time passed slowly and heavily. The wind was thin and searching. Gimli was uneasy. But I do not know what has happened here of late, nor in what mind the Rohirrim may now be between the traitor Saruman and the threat of Sauron.
They have long been the friends of the people of Gondor, though they are not akin to them. It was in forgotten years long ago that Eorl the Young brought them out of the North, and their kinship is rather with the Bardings of Dale, and with the Beornings of the Wood, among whom may still be seen many men tall and fair, as are the Riders of Rohan. At least they will not love the Orcs.
At length even Gimli could hear the distant beat of galloping hoofs. The horsemen, following the trail, had turned from the river, and were drawing near the downs. They were riding like the wind. Now the cries of clear strong voices came ringing over the fields. Suddenly they swept up with a noise like thunder, and the foremost horseman swerved, passing by the foot of the hill, and leading the host back southward along the western skirts of the downs.
After him they rode: Their horses were of great stature, strong and clean-limbed; their grey coats glistened, their long tails flowed in the wind, their manes were braided on their proud necks.
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The Men that rode them matched them well: In their hands were tall spears of ash, painted shields were slung at their backs, long swords were at their belts, their burnished skirts of mail hung down upon their knees. In pairs they galloped by, and though every now and then one rose in his stirrups and gazed ahead and to either side, they appeared not to perceive the three strangers sitting silently and watching them.
The host had almost passed when suddenly Aragorn stood up, and called in a loud voice:. With astonishing speed and skill they checked their steeds, wheeled, and came charging round.
Soon the three companions found themselves in a ring of horsemen moving in a running circle, up the hill-slope behind them and down, round and round them, and drawing ever inwards. Aragorn stood silent, and the other two sat without moving, wondering what way things would turn. Without a word or cry, suddenly, the Riders halted. A thicket of spears were pointed towards the strangers; and some of the horsemen had bows in hand, and their arrows were already fitted to the string.
Then one rode forward, a tall man, taller than all the rest; from his helm as a crest a white horsetail flowed. He advanced until the point of his spear was within a foot of Aragorn's breast.
Aragorn did not stir. The Rider leaped from his horse. Giving his spear to another who rode up and dismounted at his side, he drew his sword and stood face to face with Aragorn, surveying him keenly, and not without wonder.
At length he spoke again. Indeed you know little of Orcs, if you go hunting them in this fashion. They were swift and well-armed, and they were many.
You would have changed from hunters to prey, if ever you had overtaken them. But there is something strange about you, Strider. And strange too is your raiment. Have you sprung out of the grass? How did you escape our sight? Are you elvish folk? The Rider looked at them with renewed wonder, but his eyes hardened.
These are strange days! But if you have her favour, then you also are net-weavers and sorcerers, maybe. Gimli rose and planted his feet firmly apart: You speak evil of that which is fair beyond the reach of your thought, and only little wit can excuse you. We intend no evil to Rohan, nor to any of its folk, neither to man nor to horse.
Will you not hear our tale before you strike? First tell me your right name. There is trouble now on all our borders, and we are threatened; but we desire only to be free, and to live as we have lived, keeping our own, and serving no foreign lord, good or evil. We welcomed guests kindly in the better days, but in these times the unbidden stranger finds us swift and hard. Who are you? Whom do you serve? At whose command do you hunt Orcs in our land?
There are few among mortal Men who know more of Orcs; and I do not hunt them in this fashion out of choice. The Orcs whom we pursued took captive two of my friends.
In such need a man that has no horse will go on foot, and he will not ask for leave to follow the trail. Nor will he count the heads of the enemy save with a sword. I am not weaponless. Aragorn threw back his cloak. Here is the Sword that was Broken and is forged again! Will you aid me or thwart me? Choose swiftly! Gimli and Legolas looked at their companion in amazement, for they had not seen him in this mood before. For a moment it seemed to the eyes of Legolas that a white flame flickered on the brows of Aragorn like a shining crown.
He cast down his proud eyes. And what was the meaning of the dark words? Long has Boromir son of Denethor been gone seeking an answer, and the horse that we lent him came back riderless. What doom do you bring out of the North? None may live now as they have lived, and few shall keep what they call their own. But of these great matters we will speak later. If chance allows, I will come myself to the king.
Now I am in great need, and I ask for help, or at least for tidings. You heard that we are pursuing an orc-host that carried off our friends. What can you tell us? Were there no bodies other than those of orc-kind? They would be small. My brain is desperate to avoid the quest by going off on any tangent it can find. Unable to tweet, I find myself crafting a kind of mental Twitter feed. HOUR Walking while reading is helping.
Listening to the overly flute-filled soundtrack is not. He is not to be confused with Fatty Lumpkin, a pony that shows up shortly thereafter. Was Tolkien trying to lose a few pounds when he wrote this, I wonder?
Another reason the soundtrack isn't working is the sheer number of songs in the book.
And with that we must welcome Tom Bombadil, magical folk-singing sprite in green stockings who is too weird for all the adaptations. I remember enjoying my first encounter with cheery old Tom at age 7; now he seems as creepy as a clown.
Come derry dol! Hop along, my hearties! Ponies all! We are fond of parties. I remember my 7-year-old self stubbornly refusing to call him Aragorn, son of Arathorn or any of the half-dozen titles Tolkien subsequently bestows on his favorite king-to-be. I prop the book by the toaster oven and make something approximating a lembas bread wrap. Gimli the dwarf seems intent on sightseeing instead. Luckily, Lady Galadriel shows up just in time to help these overly stoic dudes process their grief.
Reading fatigue is starting to set in, so I switch from physical book to iPad. I sample all available fonts, convinced that one will help me read faster. It works, sort of.
I complete Fellowship of the Ring … some 2 hours behind schedule. I blame Aragorn, who is way more mansplain-y than I remember and has acquired about 17 names at this point. Still, time for a well-deserved minute break! But Tolkien stubbornly refuses to do so. They occupy book 1 and book 2 of The Two Towers respectively. Uncannily, the Hobbits are starting to act as fatigued as I feel. In my sleep-deprived state I start to imagine that Tolkien is taunting me directly.
Mentions of sleep suddenly accelerate around the end of the Two Towers, cropping up twice on page , four times on , twice each on and , three times on , a record six times on Gollum acts like an annoying alarm clock, not once but three times: 'Are we rested?
Have we had beautiful sleep? I feel you, Sam. HOUR 15 I finally dropped off in the lair of Shelob , which made for uneasy spider-fueled dreams. But Tolkien is up to his fatigue-enhancing tricks again.
Meanwhile, something terrible has happened to the prose. If the first book of Two Towers was positively Shakespearean, the first book of Return reads like a bad Old Testament parody.
Homeward Bound The only way I can make myself get through Return of the King: throw it up on the big screen.The Fall of Gondolin. No, we must stick together. The book continues to develop the character relationships and introduce a whole slew of new characters at the same time.
He was sitting with his back to a great tree, as if he was resting. I have paid. In the early darkness the Orcs came to a hillock. Yet Fangorn holds some secret of its own.
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