Lord Of The - Rings Film 1

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.

Had Arwen, the Elf-queen of Rivendell, not come riding like a storm wind on a white horse, Frodo would have faded into a wraith himself. She carried him across the rushing Ford of Bruinen, where she raised her hand and called down a flood of water shaped like charging horses, sweeping the Nine away.

“You shall not pass!” he cried, and his staff shattered against the Balrog’s sword. The bridge collapsed. The Balrog fell into the abyss—but its whip lashed out and caught Gandalf by the ankle. He fell, crying, “Fly, you fools!” and vanished into the darkness. 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.

Finally, Frodo stood before them all, small and wounded, and spoke the words that decided the fate of the world: “I will take it. I will take the Ring to Mordor. Though I do not know the way.” Frodo awoke in Rivendell—the Last Homely House east

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.

On that lonely height, the Ringwraiths found them. Frodo, defying the terror, put on the ring to escape—and was immediately plunged into the wraith-world, a pale, shadowed realm where the Dark Lord’s servants were terrible and clear. The Witch-king of Angmar drove a Morgul-blade into Frodo’s shoulder. A shard of ice-cold evil lodged near his heart. Representatives of Elves, Dwarves, and Men gathered to

In the peaceful green hills of the Shire, where hobbits thought of nothing more than second breakfasts and the blooming of the mallorn tree, a quiet darkness was stirring. For sixty years, the hobbit Bilbo Baggins had kept a secret in his pocket—a golden ring that made its wearer invisible. On the eve of his eleventy-first birthday, he vanished during his own grand speech, using the ring to slip away from his startled guests.

Their journey led them to the village of Bree, to a crumbling inn called the Prancing Pony. There, they met a grim, weathered Ranger named Strider, who sat in the shadows with a broken sword at his belt. “You draw far too much attention, young hobbits,” he muttered. And when the Ringwraiths attacked their inn room, stabbing empty beds with wicked knives, Strider led them into the wild—through marsh and moor, under the gaze of ancient watchtowers, until they reached the hill of Weathertop.