Lord Of The Rings Film 1 Review

The Shire was no longer safe.

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 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. 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.

The Fellowship was born. Nine companions against the nine Ringwraiths: Frodo, Sam, Merry, Pippin, Gandalf, Aragorn (for Strider was the heir of Isildur), Boromir of Gondor, Gimli the Dwarf, and Legolas the Elf. Their mission: to carry the Ring into the black land of Mordor and cast it into the fires of Mount Doom. The Shire was no longer safe

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.”

“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. In the great hall of Dwarrowdelf, they found

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.

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.

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.

For three years, Frodo kept the ring hidden, but Gandalf did not forget it. He returned with troubling news. The ring was not a simple trinket. It was the One Ring, forged by the Dark Lord Sauron in the fires of Mount Doom. Sauron had poured his cruelty, his malice, and his will to dominate all life into that single band of gold. And now, Sauron had learned the ring was awake. The Dark Lord’s nine servants—the Ringwraiths, shapeless terrors who once were kings of Men—had entered the world again. They were hunting for Baggins.