"J.R.R. Tolkien - Farmer Giles of Ham" - читать интересную книгу автора (Tolkien J.R.R)

suppose Master Fabricius himself knows what may be
lying there.'

`You don't know what you are talking about,' said the
smith, growing cheerful. `If it's real ringmail you mean,
then you can't have it. It needs the skill of the dwarfs, with
every little ring fitting into four others and all. Even if I had
the craft, I should be working for weeks. And we shall all
be in our graves before then,' said he, `or leastways in the
dragon.'

They all wrung their hands in dismay, and the blacksmith
began to smile. But they were now so alarmed that they
were unwilling to give up the miller's plan and they turned
to him for counsel.

`Well,' said he, `I've heard tell that in the old days those
that could not buy bright hauberks out of the Southlands
would stitch steel rings on a leather shirt and be content
with that. Let's see what can be done in that line!'

So Giles had to bring out his old jerkin, and the smith was
hurried back to his smithy. There they rummaged in every
corner and turned over the pile of old metal, as had
not been done for many a year. At the bottom they found,
all dull with rust, a whole heap of small rings, fallen from
some forgotten coat, such as the miller had spoken of.
Sam, more unwilling and gloomy as the task seemed more
hopeful, was set to work on the spot, gathering and sorting
and cleaning the rings; and when (as he was pleased to
point out) these were clearly insufficient for one so broad
of back and breast as Master Egidius, they made him split
up old chains and hammer the links into rings as fine as his
skill could contrive.

They took the smaller rings of steel and stitched them
on to the breast of the jerkin, and the larger and clumsier
rings they stitched on the back; and then, when still more
rings were forthcoming, so hard was poor Sam driven,
they took a pair of the farmer's breeches and stitched
rings on to them. And up on a shelf in a dark nook of the
smithy the miller found the old iron frame of a helmet, and
he set the cobbler to work, covering it with leather as well
as he could.

The work took them all the rest of that day, and all the
next day - which was Twelfthnight and the eve of the
Epiphany, but festivities were neglected. Farmer Giles
celebrated the occasion with more ale than usual; but the
dragon mercifully slept. For the moment he had forgotten