The Lord of the Rings

descending in ranks towards the plain from which they had come.
    ‘We have journeyed a long way round,’ said Legolas. ‘We could have all come here safe together, if we had left the Great River on the second or third day and struck west. Few can foresee whither their road will lead them, till they come to its end.’
    ‘But we did not wish to come to Fangorn,’ said Gimli.
    ‘Yet here we are – and nicely caught in the net,’ said Legolas. ‘Look!’
    ‘Look at what?’ said Gimli.
    ‘There in the trees.’
    ‘Where? I have not elf-eyes.’
    ‘Hush! Speak more softly! Look!’ said Legolas pointing. ‘Down in the wood, back in the way that we have just come. It is he. Cannot you see him, passing from tree to tree?’
    ‘I see, I see now!’ hissed Gimli. ‘Look, Aragorn! Did I not warn you? There is the old man. All in dirty grey rags: that is why I could not see him at first.’
    Aragorn looked and beheld a bent figure moving slowly. It was not far away. It looked like an old beggar-man, walking wearily, leaning on a rough staff. His head was bowed, and he did not look towards them. In other lands they would have greeted him with kind words; but now they stood silent, each feeling a strange expectancy: something was approaching that held a hidden power – or menace.
    Gimli gazed with wide eyes for a while, as step by step the figure drew nearer. Then suddenly, unable to contain himself longer, he burst out: ‘Your bow, Legolas! Bend it! Get ready! It is Saruman. Do not let him speak, or put a spell upon us! Shoot first!’
    Legolas took his bow and bent it, slowly and as if some other will resisted him. He held an arrow loosely in his hand but did not fit it to the string. Aragorn stood silent, his face was watchful and intent.
    ‘Why are you waiting? What is the matter with you?’ said Gimli in a hissing whisper.
    ‘Legolas is right,’ said Aragorn quietly. ‘We may not shoot an oldman so, at unawares and unchallenged, whatever fear or doubt be on us. Watch and wait!’
    At that moment the old man quickened his pace and came with surprising speed to the foot of the rock-wall. Then suddenly he looked up, while they stood motionless looking down. There was no sound.
    They could not see his face: he was hooded, and above the hood he wore a wide-brimmed hat, so that all his features were overshadowed, except for the end of his nose and his grey beard. Yet it seemed to Aragorn that he caught the gleam of eyes keen and bright from within the shadow of the hooded brows.
    At last the old man broke the silence. ‘Well met indeed, my friends,’ he said in a soft voice. ‘I wish to speak to you. Will you come down, or shall I come up?’ Without waiting for an answer he began to climb.
    ‘Now!’ cried Gimli. ‘Stop him, Legolas!’
    ‘Did I not say that I wished to speak to you?’ said the old man. ‘Put away that bow, Master Elf!’
    The bow and arrow fell from Legolas’ hands, and his arms hung loose at his sides.
    ‘And you, Master Dwarf, pray take your hand from your axe-haft, till I am up! You will not need such arguments.’
    Gimli started and then stood still as stone, staring, while the old man sprang up the rough steps as nimbly as a goat. All weariness seemed to have left him. As he stepped up on to the shelf there was a gleam, too brief for certainty, a quick glint of white, as if some garment shrouded by the grey rags had been for an instant revealed. The intake of Gimli’s breath could be heard as a loud hiss in the silence.
    ‘Well met, I say again!’ said the old man, coming towards them. When he was a few feet away, he stood, stooping over his staff, with his head thrust forward, peering at them from under his hood. ‘And what may you be doing in these parts? An Elf, a Man, and a Dwarf, all clad in Elvish fashion. No doubt there is a tale worth hearing behind it all. Such things are not often seen here.’
    ‘You speak as one that knows Fangorn well,’ said Aragorn. ‘Is that so?’
    ‘Not well,’ said the old man: ‘that would be the study of many lives. But I come here now and again.’
    ‘Might we know your name, and then hear what it is that you have to say to us?’ said Aragorn. ‘The morning passes, and we have an errand that will not wait.’
    ‘As for what I wished to say, I have said it: What may you bedoing, and what tale can you tell of yourselves? As for my name!’ He broke off, laughing long and softly. Aragorn felt a shudder run through him at the