☰ Menü

Lord Of The Rings Film 1 -

The Fellowship fled, weeping, into the golden woods of Lothlórien. There, the Lady Galadriel revealed her great power: she showed Frodo a vision of the future—of the Shire burning, of Samwise weeping, of a world enslaved—unless the Ring was destroyed. And she gave him a phial: the Light of Eärendil’s star, to be a light in dark places.

As Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli knelt by the dying Boromir, Frodo stood alone on the far bank of the river. Samwise, who could never be left behind, waded into the water after him, nearly drowning. Frodo pulled him up. Sam gasped, “I made a promise, Mr. Frodo. Don’t you leave him, Samwise Gamgee. And I don’t mean to. I don’t mean to.”

He left the ring behind for his young cousin, Frodo, along with a warning from the wizard Gandalf the Grey: Keep it safe. lord of the rings film 1

But the Ring had already begun to poison the Fellowship. On the grassy shores of the River Anduin, Boromir tried to take the Ring from Frodo by force. The hobbit fled, invisible, his trust shattered. The orcs of Saruman attacked then, blowing their foul horns, and in the chaos, Merry and Pippin were taken, and Boromir fell defending them, pierced by many black arrows.

Their path led them south, over the frozen pass of Caradhras—a mountain that roared with unnatural snow. When the mountain defeated them, they dared the dark road beneath the world: the Mines of Moria. In the great hall of Dwarrowdelf, they found only dust and bones. The Dwarves had dug too deep. A terror from the deep ages—a Balrog, a demon of flame and shadow—rose against them. Gandalf stood on the Bridge of Khazad-dûm, facing the creature of fire. The Fellowship fled, weeping, into the golden woods

Frodo awoke in Rivendell—the Last Homely House east of the sea. There, Elrond the Half-elven healed him. And there, a great council was called. Representatives of Elves, Dwarves, and Men gathered to decide what to do with the One Ring. But as they argued—Boromir, son of the Steward of Gondor, urging them to use the ring as a weapon; Gimli the Dwarf shattering his axe in rage at an ancient insult—the ring revealed its true power: it turned friends against one another with whispers of glory and fear.

Frodo, who had never ventured farther than the edge of his own field, was given a burden heavier than any hobbit had ever carried. “You must leave,” Gandalf said. “And you cannot take the road you know.” As Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli knelt by the

Frodo looked at Sam, then at the dark mountains of Mordor rising in the east. He nodded. The two hobbits turned their backs on the Fellowship and walked alone into the unknown—into a land of ash and shadow, where no hope had gone before.

The Fellowship fled, weeping, into the golden woods of Lothlórien. There, the Lady Galadriel revealed her great power: she showed Frodo a vision of the future—of the Shire burning, of Samwise weeping, of a world enslaved—unless the Ring was destroyed. And she gave him a phial: the Light of Eärendil’s star, to be a light in dark places.

As Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli knelt by the dying Boromir, Frodo stood alone on the far bank of the river. Samwise, who could never be left behind, waded into the water after him, nearly drowning. Frodo pulled him up. Sam gasped, “I made a promise, Mr. Frodo. Don’t you leave him, Samwise Gamgee. And I don’t mean to. I don’t mean to.”

He left the ring behind for his young cousin, Frodo, along with a warning from the wizard Gandalf the Grey: Keep it safe.

But the Ring had already begun to poison the Fellowship. On the grassy shores of the River Anduin, Boromir tried to take the Ring from Frodo by force. The hobbit fled, invisible, his trust shattered. The orcs of Saruman attacked then, blowing their foul horns, and in the chaos, Merry and Pippin were taken, and Boromir fell defending them, pierced by many black arrows.

Their path led them south, over the frozen pass of Caradhras—a mountain that roared with unnatural snow. When the mountain defeated them, they dared the dark road beneath the world: the Mines of Moria. In the great hall of Dwarrowdelf, they found only dust and bones. The Dwarves had dug too deep. A terror from the deep ages—a Balrog, a demon of flame and shadow—rose against them. Gandalf stood on the Bridge of Khazad-dûm, facing the creature of fire.

Frodo awoke in Rivendell—the Last Homely House east of the sea. There, Elrond the Half-elven healed him. And there, a great council was called. Representatives of Elves, Dwarves, and Men gathered to decide what to do with the One Ring. But as they argued—Boromir, son of the Steward of Gondor, urging them to use the ring as a weapon; Gimli the Dwarf shattering his axe in rage at an ancient insult—the ring revealed its true power: it turned friends against one another with whispers of glory and fear.

Frodo, who had never ventured farther than the edge of his own field, was given a burden heavier than any hobbit had ever carried. “You must leave,” Gandalf said. “And you cannot take the road you know.”

Frodo looked at Sam, then at the dark mountains of Mordor rising in the east. He nodded. The two hobbits turned their backs on the Fellowship and walked alone into the unknown—into a land of ash and shadow, where no hope had gone before.