LOTR_2

Chapter 1 . The Departure of Boromir 

Aragorn sped on up the hill. Every now and again he bent to the ground. 
Hobbits go light, and their footprints are not easy even for a Ranger to 
read, but not far from the top a spring crossed the path, and in the wet 
earth he saw what he was seeking. 

'I read the signs aright,' he said to himself. 'Frodo ran to the 
hill-top. I wonder what he saw there? But he returned by the same way, and 
went down the hill again.' 

Aragorn hesitated. He desired to go to the high seat himself, hoping to 
see there something that would guide him in his perplexities; but time was 
pressing. Suddenly he leaped forward, and ran to the summit, across the 
great flag-stones, and up the steps. Then sitting in the high seat he looked 
out. But the sun seemed darkened, and the world dim and remote. He turned 
from the North back again to North, and saw nothing save the distant hills, 
unless it were that far away he could see again a great bird like an eagle 
high in the air, descending slowly in wide circles down towards the earth. 

Even as he gazed his quick ears caught sounds in the woodlands below, 
on the west side of the River. He stiffened. There were cries, and among 
them, to his horror, he could distinguish the harsh voices of Ores. Then 
suddenly with a deep-throated call a great horn blew, and the blasts of it 
smote the hills and echoed in the hollows, rising in a mighty shout above 
the roaring of the falls. 

'The horn of Boromir!' he cried. 'He is in need!' He sprang down the 
steps and away, leaping down the path. 'Alas ! An ill fate is on me this day, 
and all that I do goes amiss. Where is Sam?' 

As he ran the cries came louder, but fainter now and desperately the 
horn was blowing. Fierce and shrill rose the yells of the Ores, and suddenly 
the horn-calls ceased. Aragorn raced down the last slope, but before he 
could reach the hill's foot, the sounds died away; and as he turned to the 
left and ran towards them they retreated, until at last he could hear them 
no more. Drawing his bright sword and crying Elendil! Elendil! he crashed 
through the trees. 




A mile, maybe, from Parth Galen in a little glade not far from the lake 
he found Boromir. He was sitting with his back to a great tree, as if he was 
resting. But Aragorn saw that he was pierced with many black-feathered 
arrows; his sword was still in his hand, but it was broken near the hilt; 
his horn cloven in two was at his side. Many Ores lay slain, piled all about 
him and at his feet. 

Aragorn knelt beside him. Boromir opened his eyes and strove to speak. 

At last slow words came. 'I tried to take the Ring from Frodo ' he said. 'I 
am sorry. I have paid.' His glance strayed to his fallen enemies; twenty at 
least lay there. 'They have gone: the Halflings: the Ores have taken them. I 
think they are not dead. Ores bound them.' He paused and his eyes closed 
wearily. After a moment he spoke again. 

’Farewell, Aragorn! Goto Minas Tirith and save my people! I have 
failed.' 

'No!' said Aragorn, taking his hand and kissing his brow. 'You have 
conquered. Few have gained such a victory. Be at peace! Minas Tirith shall 
not fall!' 

Boromir smiled. 

'Which way did they go? Was Frodo there?' said Aragorn. 

But Boromir did not speak again. 

'Alas!' said Aragorn. 'Thus passes the heir of Denethor, Lord of the 
Tower of Guard! This is a bitter end. Now the Company is all in ruin. It is 
I that have failed. Vain was Gandalfs trust in me. What shall I do now? 
Boromir has laid it on me to go to Minas Tirith, and my heart desires it; 
but where are the Ring and the Bearer? How shall I find them and save the 
Quest from disaster?' 

He knelt for a while, bent with weeping, still clasping Boromir's hand. 

So it was that Legolas and Gimli found him. They came from the western 
slopes of the hill, silently, creeping through the trees as if they were 
hunting. Gimli had his axe in hand, and Legolas his long knife: all his 
arrows were spent. When they came into the glade they halted in amazement; 
and then they stood a moment with heads bowed in grief, for it seemed to 
them plain what had happened. 

'Alas!' said Legolas, coming to Aragorn's side. 'We have hunted and 
slain many Ores in the woods, but we should have been of more use here. We 
came when we heard the horn-but too late, it seems. I fear you have taken 
deadly hurt.' 




'Boromir is dead,' said Aragorn. 'I am unscathed, for I was not here 
with him. He fell defending the hobbits, while I was away upon the hill.' 

'The hobbits!' cried Gimli 'Where are they then? Where is Frodo?' 

'I do not know,' answered Aragorn wearily. 'Before he died Boromir told 
me that the Ores had bound them; he did not think that they were dead. I 
sent him to follow Merry and Pippin; but I did not ask him if Frodo or Sam 
were with him: not until it was too late. All that I have done today has 
gone amiss. What is to be done now?' 

'First we must tend the fallen,' said Legolas. 'We cannot leave him 
lying like carrion among these foul Ores.' 

'But we must be swift,' said Gimli. 'He would not wish us to linger. We 
must follow the Ores, if there is hope that any of our Company are living 
prisoners.' 

'But we do not know whether the Ring-bearer is with them or not ' said 
Aragorn. 'Are we to abandon him? Must we not seek him first? An evil choice 
is now before us!' 

'Then let us do first what we must do,' said Legolas. 'We have not the 
time or the tools to bury our comrade fitly, or to raise a mound over him. A 
cairn we might build.' 

'The labour would be hard and long: there are no stones that we could 
use nearer than the water -side,' said Gimli. 

'Then let us lay him in a boat with his weapons, and the weapons of his 
vanquished foes,' said Aragorn. 'We will send him to the Falls of Rauros and 
give him to Anduin. The River of Gondor will take care at least that no evil 
creature dishonours his bones.' 

Quickly they searched the bodies of the Ores, gathering their swords 
and cloven helms and shields into a heap. 'See!' cried Aragorn. 'Here we 
find tokens!' He picked out from the pile of grim weapons two knives, 
leaf-bladed, damasked in gold and red; and searching further he found also 
the sheaths, black, set with small red gems. 'No ore-tools these!' he said. 

'They were borne by the hobbits. Doubtless the Ores despoiled them, but 
feared to keep the knives, knowing them for what they are: work of 
Westernesse, wound about with spells for the bane of Mordor. Well, now, if 
they still live, our friends are weaponless. I will take these things, 
hoping against hope, to give them back.' 

'And I,' said Legolas, 'will take all the arrows that I can find, for 
my quiver is empty.' He searched in the pile and on the ground about and 




found not a few that were undamaged and longer in the shaft than such arrows 
as the Ores were accustomed to use. He looked at them closely. 

And Aragorn looked on the slain, and he said: 'Here lie many that are 
not folk of Mordor. Some are from the North, from the Misty Mountains, if I 
know anything of Ores and their kinds. And here are others strange to me. 
Their gear is not after the manner of Ores at all!' 

There were four goblin- soldiers of greater stature, swart, slant-eyed, 
with thick legs and large hands. They were armed with short broad-bladed 
swords, not with the curved scimitars usual with Ores: and they had bows of 
yew, in length and shape like the bows of Men. Upon their shields they bore 
a strange device: a small white hand in the centre of a black field; on the 
front of their iron helms was set an S-rune, wrought of some white metal. 

'I have not seen these tokens before,' said Aragorn. ’What do they 
mean?' 

'S is for Sauron,' said Gimli. That is easy to read.' 

'Nay!' said Legolas. 'Sauron does not use the Elf-runes.' 

'Neither does he use his right name, nor permit it to be spelt or 
spoken,' said Aragorn. 'And he does not use white. The Ores in the service 
of Barad-dyr use the sign of the Red Eye.' He stood for a moment in thought. 
'S is for Saruman, I guess,' he said at length. 'There is evil afoot in 
Isengard, and the West is no longer safe. It is as Gandalf feared: by some 
means the traitor Saruman has had news of our journey. It is likely too that 
he knows of Gandalf s fall. Pursuers from Moria may have escaped the 
vigilance of Lurien, or they may have avoided that land and come to Isengard 
by other paths. Ores travel fast. But Saruman has many ways of learning 
news. Do you remember the birds?' 

'Well, we have no time to ponder riddles,' said Gimli. 'Let us bear 
Boromir away!' 

'But after that we must guess the riddles, if we are to choose our 
course rightly,' answered Aragorn. 

'Maybe there is no right choice,' said Gimli. 

Taking his axe the Dwarf now cut several branches. These they lashed 
together with bowstrings, and spread their cloaks upon the frame. Upon this 
rough bier they carried the body of their companion to the shore, together 
with such trophies of his last battle as they chose to send forth with him. 

It was only a short way, yet they found it no easy task, for Boromir was a 
man both tall and strong. 




At the water-side Aragorn remained, watching the bier, while Legolas 
and Gimli hastened back on foot to Parth Galen. It was a mile or more, and 
it was some time before they came back, paddling two boats swiftly along the 
shore. 

There is a strange tale to tell!' said Legolas. 'There are only two 
boats upon the bank. We could find no trace of the other.' 

'Have Ores been there?' asked Aragorn. 

'We saw no signs of them,' answered Gimli. 'And Ores would have taken 
or destroyed all the boats, and the baggage as well.' 

'I will look at the ground when we come there,' said Aragorn. 

Now they laid Boromir in the middle of the boat that was to bear him 
away. The grey hood and elven-cloak they folded and placed beneath his head. 
They combed his long dark hair and arrayed it upon his shoulders. The golden 
belt of Lurien gleamed about his waist. His helm they set beside him, and 
across his lap they laid the cloven horn and the hilts and shards of his 
sword; beneath his feet they put the swords of his enemies. Then fastening 
the prow to the stern of the other boat, they drew him out into the water. 

They rowed sadly along the shore, and turning into the swift-running channel 
they passed the green sward of Parth Galen. The steep sides of Tol Brandir 
were glowing: it was now mid-afternoon. As they went south the fume of 
Rauros rose and shimmered before them, a haze of gold. The rush and thunder 
of the falls shook the windless air. 

Sorrowfully they cast loose the funeral boat: there Boromir lay, 
restful, peaceful, gliding upon the bosom of the flowing water. The stream 
took him while they held their own boat back with their paddles. He floated 
by them, and slowly his boat departed, waning to a dark spot against the 
golden light; and then suddenly it vanished. Rauros roared on unchanging. 
The River had taken Boromir son of Denethor, and he was not seen again in 
Minas Tirith, standing as he used to stand upon the White Tower in the 
morning. But in Gondor in after-days it long was said that the elven-boat 
rode the falls and the foaming pool, and bore him down through Osgiliath, 
and past the many mouths of Anduin, out into the Great Sea at night under 
the stars. 

For a while the three companions remained silent, gazing after him. 

Then Aragorn spoke. 'They will look for him from the White Tower,' he said, 
'but he will not return from mountain or from sea.' Then slowly he began to 
sing: 




Through Rohan over fen and field where the long grass grows 
The West Wind comes walking, and about the walls it goes. 

'What news from the West, O wandering wind, do you bring to me tonight? 

Have you seen Boromir the Tall by moon or by starlight?' 

7 saw him ride over seven streams, over waters wide and grey; 

I saw him walk in empty lands, until he passed away 
Into the shadows of the North. I saw him then no more. 

The North Wind may have heard the horn of the son of Denethor. ' 

'O Boromir! From the high walls westward I looked afar, 

But you came not from the empty lands where no men are. ' 

Then Legolas sang: 

From the mouths of the Sea the South Wind flies, from the sandhills and the stones; 
The wailing of the gulls it bears, and at the gate it moans. 

'What news from the South, O sighing wind, do you bring to me at eve? 

Where now is Boromir the Fair? He tarries and I grieve. ' 

'Ask not of me where he doth dwell-so many bones there lie 
On the white shores and the dark shores under the stormy sky; 

So many have passed down Anduin to find the flowing Sea. 

Ask of the North Wind news of them the North Wind sends to me!' 

'O Boromir! Beyond the gate the seaward road runs south, 

But you came not with the wailing gulls from the grey sea's mouth. ' 

Then Aragorn sang again: 

From the Gate of Kings the North Wind rides, and past the roaring falls; 

And clear and cold about the tower its loud horn calls. 

'What news from the North, O mighty wind, do you bring to me today? 

What news of Boromir the Bold? For he is long away. ' 

'Beneath Amon Hen I heard his cry. There many foes he fought. 

His cloven shield, his broken sword, they to the water brought. 

His head so proud, his face so fair, his limbs they laid to rest; 

And Rauros, golden Rauros-faUs, bore him upon its breast. ' 

'O Boromir! The Tower of Guard shall ever northward gaze 
To Rauros, golden Rauros-falls, until the end of days. ' 

So they ended. Then they turned their boat and drove it with all the 
speed they could against the stream back to Parth Galen. 

'You left the East Wind to me,' said Gimli, 'but I will say naught of 
it.’ 

’That is as it should be,' said Aragorn. 'In Minas Tirith they endure 
the East Wind, but they do not ask it for tidings. But now Boromir has taken 




his road, and we must make haste to choose our own.' 

He surveyed the green lawn, quickly but thoroughly, stooping often to 
the earth. The Ores have been on this ground,' he said. 'Otherwise nothing 
can be made out for certain. All our footprints are here, crossing and 
re-crossing. I cannot tell whether any of the hobbits have come back since 
the search for Frodo began.' He returned to the bank, close to where the 
rill from the spring trickled out into the River. 'There are some clear 
prints here,' he said. 'A hobbit waded out into the water and back; but I 
cannot say how long ago.' 

'How then do you read this riddle?' asked Gimli. 

Aragorn did not answer at once, but went back to the camping-place and 
looked at the baggage. 'Two packs are missing.' he said, 'and one is 
certainly Sam's: it was rather large and heavy. This then is the answer: 
Frodo has gone by boat, and his servant has gone with him. Frodo must have 
returned while we were all away. I met Sam going up the hill and told him to 
follow me; but plainly he did not do so. He guessed his master s mind and 
came back here before Frodo had gone. He did not find it easy to leave Sam 
behind!' 

'But why should he leave us behind, and without a word?' said Gimli. 
'That was a strange deed!' 

'And a brave deed,' said Aragorn. 'Sam was right, I think. Frodo did 
not wish to lead any friend to death with him in Mordor. But he knew that he 
must go himself. Something happened after he left us that overcame his fear 
and doubt.' 

'Maybe hunting Ores came on him and he fled,' said Legolas. 

'He fled, certainly,' said Aragorn, 'but not, I think, from Ores.' What 
he thought was the cause of Frodo's sudden resolve and flight Aragorn did 
not say. The last words of Boromir he long kept secret. 

'Well, so much at least is now clear,' said Legolas: 'Frodo is no 
longer on this side of the River: only he can have taken the boat. And Sam 
is with him; only he would have taken his pack.' 

'Our choice then,' said Gimli, 'is either to take the remaining boat 
and follow Frodo, or else to follow the Ores on foot. There is little hope 
either way. We have already lost precious hours.' 

'Let me think!' said Aragorn. 'And now may I make a right choice and 
change the evil fate of this unhappy day!' He stood silent for a moment. 'I 
will follow the Ores,' he said at last. 'I would have guided Frodo to Mordor 




and gone with him to the end; but if I seek him now in the wilderness, I 
must abandon the captives to torment and death. My heart speaks clearly at 
last: the fate of the Bearer is in my hands no longer. The Company has 
played its part. Yet we that remain cannot forsake our companions while we 
have strength left. Come! We will go now. Leave all that can be spared 
behind! We will press on by day and dark!' 

They drew up the last boat and carried it to the trees. They laid 
beneath it such of their goods as they did not need and could not carry 
away. Then they left Parth Galen. The afternoon was fading as they came back 
to the glade where Boromir had fallen. There they picked up the trail of the 
Ores. It needed little skill to find. 

'No other folk make such a trampling,' said Legolas. 'It seems their 
delight to slash and beat down growing things that are not even in their 
way.' 

'But they go with a great speed for all that,' said Aragorn, 'and they 
do not tire. And later we may have to search for our path in hard bare 
lands.' 

'Well, after them!' said Gimli. 'Dwarves too can go swiftly, and they 
do not tire sooner than Ores. But it will be a long chase: they have a long 
start.' 

'Yes,' said Aragorn, 'we shall all need the endurance of Dwarves. But 
come! With hope or without hope we will follow the trail of our enemies. And 
woe to them, if we prove the swifter! We will make such a chase as shall be 
accounted a marvel among the Three Kindreds p Elves. Dwarves, and Men. 
Forth 

the Three Hunters!' 

Like a deer he sprang away. Through the trees he sped. On and on he led 
them, tireless and swift, now that his mind was at last made up. The woods 
about the lake they left behind. Long slopes they climbed, dark, hard-edged 
against the sky already red with sunset. Dusk came. They passed away, grey 
shadows in a stony land. 




Chapter 2 . The Riders of Rohan 



Dusk deepened. Mist lay behind them among the trees below, and brooded 
on the pale margins of the Anduin, but the sky was clear. Stars came out. 

The waxing moon was riding in the West, and the shadows of the rocks were 
black. They had come to the feet of stony hills, and their pace was slower, 
for the trail was no longer easy to follow. Here the highlands of the Emyn 
Muil ran from North to South in two long tumbled ridges. The western side of 
each ridge was steep and difficult, but the eastward slopes were gentler, 
furrowed with many gullies and narrow ravines. All night the three 
companions scrambled in this bony land, climbing to the crest of the first 
and tallest ridge, and down again into the darkness of a deep winding valley 
on the other side. 

There in the still cool hour before dawn they rested for a brief space. 

The moon had long gone down before them, the stars glittered above them; the 
first light of day had not yet come over the dark hills behind. For the 
moment Aragorn was at a loss: the ore -trail had descended into the valley, 
but there it had vanished. 

’Which way would they turn, do you think?' said Legolas. 'Northward to 
take a straighter road to Isengard, or Fangorn, if that is their aim as you 
guess? Or southward to strike the Entwash?' 

'They will not make for the river, whatever mark they aim at" said 
Aragorn. 'And unless there is much amiss in Rohan and the power of Saruman 
is greatly increased; they will take the shortest way that they can find 
over the fields of the Rohirrim. Fet us search northwards!' 

The dale ran like a stony trough between the ridged hills, and a 
trickling stream flowed among the boulders at the bottom. A cliff frowned 
upon their right; to their left rose grey slopes, dim and shadowy in the 
late night. They went on for a mile or more northwards. Aragorn was 
searching, bent towards the ground, among the folds and gullies leading up 
into the western ridge. Fegolas was some way ahead. Suddenly the Elf gave a 
cry and the others came running towards him. 

'We have already overtaken some of those that we are hunting,' he said. 
'Eook!' He pointed, and they saw that what they had at first taken to be 
boulders lying at the foot of the slope were huddled bodies. Five dead Ores 




lay there. They had been hewn with many cruel strokes, and two had been 
beheaded. The ground was wet with their dark blood. 

'Here is another riddle!' said Gimli. 'But it needs the light of day 
and for that we cannot wait.' 

'Yet however you read it, it seems not unhopeful,' said Legolas. 

'Enemies of the Ores are likely to be our friends. Do any folk dwell in 
these hills?' 

'No,' said Aragorn. 'The Rohirrim seldom come here, and it is far from 
Minas Tirith. It might be that some company of Men were hunting here for 
reasons that we do not know. Yet I think not.' 

'What do you think?' said Gimli. 

'I think that the enemy brought his own enemy with him,' answered 
Aragorn. 'These are Northern Ores from far away. Among the slain are none of 
the great Ores with the strange badges. There was a quarrel, I guess: it is 
no uncommon thing with these foul folk. Maybe there was some dispute about 
the road.' 

'Or about the captives,' said Gimli. 'Let us hope that they, too, did 
not meet their end here.' 

Aragorn searched the ground in a wide circle, but no other traces of 
the fight could be found. They went on. Already the eastward sky was turning 
pale; the stars were fading, and a grey light was slowly growing. A little 
further north they came to a fold in which a tiny stream, falling and 
winding, had cut a stony path down into the valley. In it some bushes grew, 
and there were patches of grass upon its sides. 

'At last!' said Aragorn. 'Here are the tracks that we seek! Up this 
water -channel: this is the way that the Ores went after their debate.' 

Swiftly now the pursuers turned and followed the new path. As if fresh 
from a night's rest they sprang from stone to stone. At last they reached 
the crest of the grey hill, and a sudden breeze blew in their hair and 
stirred their cloaks: the chill wind of dawn. 

Turning back they saw across the River the far hills kindled. Day 
leaped into the sky. The red rim of the sun rose over the shoulders of the 
dark land. Before them in the West the world lay still, formless and grey; 
but even as they looked, the shadows of night melted, the colours of the 
waking earth returned: green flowed over the wide meads of Rohan; the white 
mists shimmered in the watervales; and far off to the left, thirty leagues 
or more, blue and purple stood the White Mountains, rising into peaks of 




jet, tipped with glimmering snows, flushed with the rose of morning. 

'Gondor! Gondor!' cried Aragorn. 'Would that I looked on you again in 
happier hour! Not yet does my road lie southward to your bright streams. 

Gondor! Gondor, between the Mountains and the Sea! 

West Wind blew there; the light upon the Silver Tree 

Fell like bright rain in gardens of the Kings of old. 

O proud walls! White towers! O winged crown and throne of gold! 

O Gondor, Gondor! Shall Men behold the Silver Tree, 

Or West Wind blow again between the Mountains and the Sea? 

Now let us go!' he said, drawing his eyes away from the South, and 
looking out west and north to the way that he must tread. 

The ridge upon which the companions stood went down steeply before 
their feet. Below it twenty fathoms or more, there was a wide and rugged 
shelf which ended suddenly in the brink of a sheer cliff: the East Wall of 
Rohan. So ended the Emyn Muil, and the green plains of the Rohirrim 
stretched away before them to the edge of sight. 

'Look!' cried Legolas, pointing up into the pale sky above them. 'There 
is the eagle again! Ele is very high. He seems to be flying now away, from 
this land back to the North. He is going with great speed. Look!' 

'No, not even my eyes can see him, my good Legolas,' said Aragorn. 'He 
must be far aloft indeed. I wonder what is his errand, if he is the same 
bird that I have seen before. But look! I can see something nearer at hand 
and more urgent; there is something moving over the plain!' 

'Many things,' said Legolas. 'It is a great company on foot; but I 
cannot say more, nor see what kind of folk they may be. They are many 
leagues away: twelve, I guess; but the flatness of the plain is hard to 
measure.' 

'I think, nonetheless, that we no longer need any trail to tell us 
which way to go,' said Gimli. 'Let us find a path down to the fields as 
quick as may be.' 

'I doubt if you will find a path quicker than the one that the Ores 
chose,' said Aragorn. 

They followed their enemies now by the clear light of day. It seemed 
that the Ores had pressed on with all possible speed. Every now and again 
the pursuers found things that had been dropped or cast away: food-bags, the 
rinds and crusts of hard grey bread, a torn black cloak, a heavy iron-nailed 
shoe broken on the stones. The trail led them north along the top of the 




escarpment, and at length they came to a deep cleft carved in the rock by a 
stream that splashed noisily down. In the narrow ravine a rough path 
descended like a steep stair into the plain. 

At the bottom they came with a strange suddenness on the grass of 
Rohan. It swelled like a green sea up to the very foot of the Emyn Muil. The 
falling stream vanished into a deep growth of cresses and water-plants, and 
they could hear it tinkling away in green tunnels, down long gentle slopes 
towards the fens of Entwash Vale far away. They seemed to have left winter 
clinging to the hills behind. Elere the air was softer and warmer, and 
faintly scented, as if spring was already stirring and the sap was flowing 
again in herb and leaf. Legolas took a deep breath, like one that drinks a 
great draught after long thirst in barren places. 

'Ah! the green smell!' he said. 'It is better than much sleep. Let us 
run!' 

'Light feet may run swiftly here,' said Aragorn. 'More swiftly, maybe, 
than iron-shod Ores. Now we have a chance to lessen their lead!' 

They went in single file, running like hounds on a strong scent, and an 
eager light was in their eyes. Nearly due west the broad swath of the 
marching Ores tramped its ugly slot; the sweet grass of Rohan had been 
bruised and blackened as they passed. Presently Aragorn gave a cry and 
turned aside. 'Stay!' he shouted. 'Do not follow me yet!' He ran quickly to 
the right, away from the main trail; for he had seen footprints that went 
that way, branching off from the others, the marks of small unshod feet. 
These, however, did not go far before they were crossed by ore-prints, also 
coming out from the main trail behind and in front, and then they curved 
sharply back again and were lost in the trampling. At the furthest point 
Aragorn stooped and picked up something from the grass; then he ran back. 

'Yes,' he said, 'they are quite plain: a hobbit's footprints. Pippin's 
I think. He is smaller than the other. And look at this ! He held up a thing 
that glittered in the sunlight. It looked like the new-opened leaf of a 
beech-tree, fair and strange in that treeless plain. 

'The brooch of an elven-cloak!' cried Legolas and Gimli together. 

'Not idly do the leaves of Lurien fall,' said Aragorn. 'This did not 
drop by chance: it was cast away as a token to any that might follow. I 
think Pippin ran away from the trail for that purpose.' 

'Then he at least was alive,' said Gimli. 'And he had the use of his 
wits, and of his legs too. That is heartening. We do not pursue in vain.' 




’Let us hope that he did not pay too dearly for his boldness,' said 
Legolas. 'Come! Let us go on! The thought of those merry young folk driven 
like cattle burns my heart.' 

The sun climbed to the noon and then rode slowly down the sky. Light 
clouds came up out of the sea in the distant South and were blown away upon 
the breeze. The sun sank. Shadows rose behind and reached out long arms from 
the East. Still the hunters held on. One day now had passed since Boromir 
fell, and the Ores were yet far ahead. No longer could any sight of them be 
seen in the level plains. 

As nightshade was closing about them Aragorn halted. Only twice in the 
day's march had they rested for a brief while, and twelve leagues now lay 
between them and the eastern wall where they had stood at dawn. 

'We have come at last to a hard choice,' he said. 'Shall we rest by 
night, or shall we go on while our will and strength hold?' 

'Unless our enemies rest also, they will leave us far behind, if we 
stay to sleep.' said Legolas. 'Surely even Ores must pause on the march?' 
said Gimli. 'Seldom will Ores journey in the open under the sun. yet these 
have done so,' said Legolas. 'Certainly they will not rest by night.' 

'But if we walk by night, we cannot follow their trail,' said Gimli. 

'The trail is straight, and turns neither right nor left, as far as my 
eyes can see,' said Legolas. 

'Maybe, I could lead you at guess in the darkness and hold to the 
line,' said Aragorn; 'but if we strayed, or they turned aside, then when 
light came there might be long delay before the trail was found again.' 

'And there is this also,' said Gimli: 'only by day can we see if any 
tracks lead away. If a prisoner should escape, or if one should be carried 
off, eastward, say, to the Great River, towards Mordor, we might pass the 
signs and never know it.' 

'That is true,' said Aragorn. 'But if I read the signs back yonder 
rightly, the Ores of the White Hand prevailed, and the whole company is now 
bound for Isengard. Their present course bears me out.' 

'Yet it would be rash to be sure of their counsels,' said Gimli. 'And 
what of escape? In the dark we should have passed the signs that led you to 
the brooch.' 

'The Ores will be doubly on their guard since then, and the prisoners 
even wearier,' said Legolas. 'There will be no escape again, if we do not 
contrive it. How that is to be done cannot be guessed, but first we must 




overtake them.' 

'And yet even I, Dwarf of many journeys, and not the least hardy of my 
folk, cannot run all the way to Isengard without any pause ' said Gimli. 'My 
heart burns me too, and I would have started sooner but now I must rest a 
little to run the better. And if we rest, then the blind night is the time 
to do so.' 

'I said that it was a hard choice,' said Aragorn. 'How shall we end 
this debate?' 

'You are our guide,' said Gimli, 'and you are skilled in the chase. You 
shall choose.' 

'My heart bids me go on,' said Legolas. 'But we must hold together. I 
will follow your counsel.' 

'You give the choice to an ill chooser,' said Aragorn. 'Since we passed 
through the Argonath my choices have gone amiss.' He fell silent gazing 
north and west into the gathering night for a long while. 

'We will not walk in the dark,' he said at length. 'The peril of 
missing the trail or signs of other coming and going seems to me the 
greater. If the Moon gave enough light, we would use it, but alas ! he sets 
early and is yet young and pale.' 

'And tonight he is shrouded anyway,' Gimli murmured. 'Would that the 
Lady had given us a light, such a gift as she gave to Frodo!' 

'It will be more needed where it is bestowed,' said Aragorn. 'With him 
lies the true Quest. Ours is but a small matter in the great deeds of this 
time. A vain pursuit from its beginning, maybe, which no choice of mine can 
mar or mend. Well, I have chosen. So let us use the time as best we may!' 

He cast himself on the ground and fell at once into sleep, for he had 
not slept since their night under the shadow of Tol Brandir. Before dawn was 
in the sky he woke and rose. Gimli was still deep in slumber, but Legolas 
was standing, gazing northwards into the darkness, thoughtful and silent as 
a young tree in a windless night. 

'They are far far away,' he said sadly, turning to Aragorn. 'I know in 
my heart that they have not rested this night. Only an eagle could overtake 
them now.' 

'Nonetheless we will still follow as we may,' said Aragorn. Stooping he 
roused the Dwarf. 'Come! We must go,' he said. 'The scent is growing cold.' 

'But it is still dark,' said Gimli. 'Even Legolas on a hill-top could 
not see them till the Sun is up.' 




'I fear they have passed beyond my sight from hill or plain, under moon 
or sun,' said Legolas. 

'Where sight fails the earth may bring us rumour,' said Aragorn. 'The 
land must groan under their hated feet.' He stretched himself upon the 
ground with his ear pressed against the turf. He lay there motionless, for 
so long a time that Gimli wondered if he had swooned or fallen asleep again. 
Dawn came glimmering, and slowly a grey light grew about them. At last he 
rose, and now his friends could see his face: it was pale and drawn, and his 
look was troubled. 

'The rumour of the earth is dim and confused,' he said. 'Nothing walks 
upon it for many miles about us. Faint and far are the feet of our enemies. 

But loud are the hoofs of the horses. It comes to my mind that I heard them, 
even as I lay on the ground in sleep, and they troubled my dreams: horses 
galloping, passing in the West. But now they are drawing ever further from 
us, riding northward. I wonder what is happening in this land!' 

'Let us go!' said Legolas. 

So the third day of their pursuit began. During all its long hours of 
cloud and fitful sun they hardly paused, now striding, now running, as if no 
weariness could quench the fire that burned them. They seldom spoke. Over 
the wide solitude they passed and their elven-cloaks faded against the 
background of the grey -green fields; even in the cool sunlight of mid-day 
few but elvish eyes would have marked them, until they were close at hand. 
Often in their hearts they thanked the Lady of Lurien for the gift of 
lembas, for they could eat of it and find new strength even as they ran. 

All day the track of their enemies led straight on, going north-west 
without a break or turn. As once again the day wore to its end they came to 
long treeless slopes, where the land rose, swelling up towards a line of low 
humpbacked downs ahead. The ore-trail grew fainter as it bent north towards 
them, for the ground became harder and the grass shorter. Far away to the 
left the river Entwash wound, a silver thread in a green floor. No moving 
thing could be seen. Often Aragorn wondered that they saw no sign of beast 
or man. The dwellings of the Rohirrim were for the most part many leagues 
away to the South, under the wooded eaves of the White Mountains, now 
hidden 

in mist and cloud; yet the Horse-lords had formerly kept many herds and 
studs in the Eastemnet, this easterly region of their realm, and there the 
herdsmen had wandered much, living in camp and tent, even in winter-time. 




But now all the land was empty, and there was silence that did not seem to 
be the quiet of peace. 

At dusk they halted again. Now twice twelve leagues they had passed 
over the plains of Rohan and the wall of the Emyn Muil was lost in the 
shadows of the East. The young moon was glimmering in a misty sky, but it 
gave small light, and the stars were veiled. 

'Now do I most grudge a time of rest or any halt in our chase ' said 
Legolas. 'The Ores have run before us, as if the very whips of Sauron were 
behind them. I fear they have already reached the forest and the dark hills, 
and even now are passing into the shadows of the trees.' 

Gimli ground his teeth. 'This is a bitter end to our hope and to all 
our toil!' he said. 

'To hope, maybe, but not to toil,' said Aragorn. 'We shall not turn 
back here. Yet I am weary.' He gazed back along the way that they had come 
towards the night gathering in the East. 'There is something strange at work 
in this land. I distrust the silence. I distrust even the pale Moon. The 
stars are faint; and I am weary as I have seldom been before, weary as no 
Ranger should be with a clear trail to follow. There is some will that lends 
speed to our foes and sets an unseen barrier before us: a weariness that is 
in the heart more than in the limb.' 

'Truly!' said Legolas. 'That I have known since first we came down from 
the Emyn Muil. For the will is not behind us but before us.' He pointed away 
over the land of Rohan into the darkling West under the sickle moon. 
'Saruman!' muttered Aragorn. 'But he shall not turn us back! Halt we must 
once more; for, see! even the Moon is falling into gathering cloud. But 
north lies our road between down and fen when day returns.' 

As before Legolas was first afoot, if indeed he had ever slept. 'Awake! 
Awake!' he cried. 'It is a red dawn. Strange things await us by the eaves of 
the forest. Good or evil, I do not know; but we are called. Awake!' 

The others sprang up, and almost at once they set off again. Slowly the 
downs drew near. It was still an hour before noon when they reached them: 
green slopes rising to bare ridges that ran in a line straight towards the 
North. At their feet the ground was dry and the turf short, but a long strip 
of sunken land, some ten miles wide, lay between them and the river 
wandering deep in dim thickets of reed and rush. Just to the West of the 
southernmost slope there was a great ring, where the turf had been torn and 
beaten by many trampling feet. From it the ore-trail ran out again, turning 




north along the dry skirts of the hills. Aragorn halted and examined the 
tracks closely. 

They rested here a while,' he said, 'but even the outward trail is 
already old. I fear that your heart spoke truly, Legolas: it is thrice 
twelve hours, I guess, since the Ores stood where we now stand. If they held 
to their pace, then at sundown yesterday they would reach the borders of 
Fangorn.' 

'I can see nothing away north or west but grass dwindling into mist,' 
said Gimli. 'Could we see the forest, if we climbed the hills?' 

'It is still far away,' said Aragorn. 'If I remember rightly, these 
downs run eight leagues or more to the north, and then north-west to the 
issuing of the Entwash there lies still a wide land, another fifteen leagues 
it may be.' 

'Well, let us go on,' said Gimli. 'My legs must forget the miles. They 
would be more willing, if my heart were less heavy.' 

The sun was sinking when at last they drew near to the end of the line 
of downs. For many hours they had marched without rest. They were going 
slowly now, and Gimli' s back was bent. Stone-hard are the Dwarves in labour 
or journey, but this endless chase began to tell on him, as all hope failed 
in his heart. Aragorn walked behind him, grim and silent, stooping now and 
again to scan some print or mark upon the ground. Only Legolas still stepped 
as lightly as ever, his feet hardly seeming to press the grass, leaving no 
footprints as he passed; but in the waybread of the Elves he found all the 
sustenance that he needed, and he could sleep, if sleep it could be called 
by Men, resting his mind in the strange paths of elvish dreams, even as he 
walked open-eyed in the light of this world. 

'Let us go up on to this green hill!' he said. Wearily they followed 
him, climbing the long slope, until they came out upon the top. It was a 
round hill smooth and bare, standing by itself, the most northerly of the 
downs. The sun sank and the shadows of evening fell like a curtain. They 
were alone in a grey formless world without mark or measure. Only far away 
north-west there was a deeper darkness against the dying light: the 
Mountains of Mist and the forest at their feet. 

'Nothing can we see to guide us here,' said Gimli. 'Well, now we must 
halt again and wear the night away. It is growing cold!' 

'The wind is north from the snows,' said Aragorn. 

'And ere morning it will be in the East,' said Legolas. 'But rest if 




you must. Yet do not cast all hope away. Tomorrow is unknown. Rede oft is 
found at the rising of the Sun.' 

'Three suns already have risen on our chase and brought no counsel ' 
said Gimli. 

The night grew ever colder. Aragorn and Gimli slept fitfully, and 
whenever they awoke they saw Legolas standing beside them, or walking to 
and 

fro, singing softly to himself in his own tongue, and as he sang the white 
stars opened in the hard black vault above. So the night passed. Together 
they watched the dawn grow slowly in the sky, now bare and cloudless, until 
at last the sunrise came. It was pale and clear. The wind was in the East 
and all the mists had rolled away; wide lands lay bleak about them in the 
bitter light. 

Ahead and eastward they saw the windy uplands of the Wold of Rohan that 
they had already glimpsed many days ago from the Great River. North- 
westward 

stalked the dark forest of Fangorn; still ten leagues away stood its shadowy 
eaves, and its further slopes faded into the distant blue. Beyond there 
glimmered far away, as if floating on a grey cloud, the white head of tall 
Methedras, the last peak of the Misty Mountains. Out of the forest the 
Entwash flowed to meet them, its stream now swift and narrow, and its banks 
deep-cloven. The ore-trail turned from the downs towards it. 

Following with his keen eyes the trail to the river, and then the river 
back towards the forest, Aragorn saw a shadow on the distant green, a dark 
swift-moving blur. He cast himself upon the ground and listened again 
intently. But Legolas stood beside him, shading his bright elven-eyes with 
his long slender hand, and he saw not a shadow, nor a blur, but the small 
figures of horsemen, many horsemen, and the glint of morning on the tips of 
their spears was like the twinkle of minute stars beyond the edge of mortal 
sight. Far behind them a dark smoke rose in thin curling threads. 

There was a silence in the empty fields, arid Gimli could hear the air 
moving in the grass. 

'Riders!' cried Aragorn, springing to his feet. 'Many riders on swift 
steeds are coming towards us!' 

'Yes,' said Legolas, 'there are one hundred and five. Yellow is their 
hair, and bright are their spears. Their leader is very tall.' 

Aragorn smiled. 'Keen are the eyes of the Elves,' he said. 




'Nay! The riders are little more than five leagues distant,' said 
Legolas. 

'Five leagues or one,' said Gimli; 'we cannot escape them in this bare 
land. Shall we wait for them here or go on our way?' 

'We will wait,' said Aragorn. 'I am weary, and our hunt has failed. Or 
at least others were before us; for these horsemen are riding back down the 
ore -trail. We may get new s from them.' 

'Or spears,' said Gimli. 

'There are three empty saddles, but I see no hobbits,' said Legolas. 

'I did not say that we should hear good news,' said Aragorn. 'But evil 
or good we will await it here.' 

The three companions now left the hill-top, where they might be an easy 
mark against the pale sky, and they walked slowly down the northward slope. 
A little above the hill's foot they halted, and wrapping their cloaks about 
them, they sat huddled together upon the faded grass. The time passed slowly 
and heavily. The wind was thin and searching. Gimli was uneasy. 

'What do you know of these horsemen, Aragorn?' he said. 'Do we sit here 
waiting for sudden death?' 

'I have been among them,' answered Aragorn. 'They are proud and wilful, 
but they are true-hearted, generous in thought and deed; bold but not cruel; 
wise but unlearned, writing no books but singing many songs, after the 
manner of the children of Men before the Dark Years. But I do not know what 
has happened here of late, nor in what mind the Rohirrim may now be between 
the traitor Saruman and the threat of Sauron. They have long been the 
friends of the people of Gondor, though they are not akin to them. It was in 
forgotten years long ago that Eorl the Young brought them out of the North, 
and their kinship is rather with the Bardings of Dale, and with the 
Beornings of the Wood, among whom may still be seen many men tall and 
fair, 

as are the Riders of Rohan. At least they will not love the Ores.' 

'But Gandalf spoke of a rumour that they pay tribute to Mordor ' said 
Gimli. 

'I believe it no more than did Boromir,' answered Aragorn. 

'You will soon learn the truth,' said Legolas. 'Already they approach.' 

At length even Gimli could hear the distant beat of galloping hoofs. 

The horsemen, following the trail, had turned from the river, and were 
drawing near the downs. They were riding like the wind. 




Now the cries of clear strong voices came ringing over the fields. 
Suddenly they swept up with a noise like thunder, and the foremost horseman 
swerved, passing by the foot of the hill, and leading the host back 
southward along the western skirts of the downs. After him they rode: a long 
line of mail-clad men. swift, shining, fell and fair to look upon. 

Their horses were of great stature, strong and clean-limbed; their grey 
coats glistened, their long tails flowed in the wind, their manes were 
braided on their proud necks. The Men that rode them matched them well: tall 
and long-limbed; their hair, flaxen-pale, flowed under their light helms, 
and streamed in long braids behind them; their faces were stern and keen. In 
their hands were tall spears of ash, painted shields were slung at their 
backs, long swords were at their belts, their burnished skirts of mail hung 
down upon their knees. 

In pairs they galloped by, and though every now and then one rose in 
his stirrups and gazed ahead and to either side, they appeared not to 
perceive the three strangers sitting silently and watching them. The host 
had almost passed when suddenly Aragorn stood up, and called in a loud 
voice: 

'What news from the North, Riders of Rohan?' 

With astonishing speed and skill they checked their steeds, wheeled, 
and came charging round. Soon the three companions found themselves in a 
ring of horsemen moving in a running circle, up the hill-slope behind them 
and down, round and round them, and drawing ever inwards. Aragorn stood 
silent, and the other two sat without moving, wondering what way things 
would turn. 

Without a word or cry, suddenly, the Riders halted. A thicket of spears 
were pointed towards the strangers; and some of the horsemen had bows in 
hand, and their arrows were already fitted to the string. Then one rode 
forward, a tall man, taller than all the rest; from his helm as a crest a 
white horsetail flowed. He advanced until the point of his spear was within 
a foot of Aragorn's breast. Aragorn did not stir. 

'Who are you, and what are you doing in this land?' said the Rider, 
using the Common Speech of the West, in manner and tone like to the speech 
of Boromir, Man of Gondor. 

'I am called Strider,' answered Aragorn. 'I came out of the North. I am 
hunting Ores.' 

The Rider leaped from his horse. Giving his spear to another who rode 




up and dismounted at his side, he drew his sword and stood face to face with 
Aragorn, surveying him keenly, and not without wonder. At length he spoke 
again. 

'At first I thought that you yourselves were Ores,' he said; 'but now I 
see that it is not so. Indeed you know little of Ores, if you go hunting 
them in this fashion. They were swift and well-armed, and they were many. 
You would have changed from hunters to prey, if ever you had overtaken them. 
But there is something strange about you, Strider.' He bent his clear bright 
eyes again upon the Ranger. 'That is no name for a Man that you give. And 
strange too is your raiment. Have you sprung out of the grass? How did you 
escape our sight? Are you elvish folk?' 

'No,' said Aragorn. 'One only of us is an Elf, Legolas from the 
Woodland Realm in distant Mirkwood. But we have passed through 
Lothlurien, 

and the gifts and favour of the Lady go with us.' 

The Rider looked at them with renewed wonder, but his eyes hardened. 
'Then there is a Lady in the Golden Wood, as old tales tell!' he said. 'Lew 
escape her nets, they say. These are strange days ! But if you have her 
favour, then you also are net-weavers and sorcerers, maybe.' He turned a 
cold glance suddenly upon Legolas and Gimli. 'Why do you not speak, silent 
ones?' he demanded. 

Gimli rose and planted his feet firmly apart: his hand gripped the 
handle of his axe, and his dark eyes flashed. 'Give me your name, 
horse-master, and I will give you mine, and more besides,' he said. 

'As for that,' said the Rider, staring down at the Dwarf, 'the stranger 
should declare himself first. Yet I am named Jomer son of Jomund, and am 
called the Third Marshal of Riddermark.' 

'Then Jomer son of Jomund, Third Marshal of Riddermark, let Gimli the 
Dwarf Gluin's son warn you against foolish words. You speak evil of that 
which is fair beyond the reach of your thought, and only little wit can 
excuse you.' 

Jomer's eyes blazed, and the Men of Rohan murmured angrily, and closed 
in, advancing their spears. 'I would cut off your head, beard and all, 

Master Dwarf, if it stood but a little higher from the ground ' said Jomer. 

'He stands not alone,' said Legolas, bending his bow and fitting an 
arrow with hands that moved quicker than sight. 'You would die before your 
stroke fell.' 




Jomer raised his sword, and things might have gone ill, but Aragorn 
sprang between them, and raised his hand. 'Your pardon, Jomer!' he cried. 
'When you know more you will understand why you have angered my 
companions. 

We intend no evil to Rohan, nor to any of its folk, neither to man nor to 
horse. Will you not hear our tale before you strike?' 

'I will,' said Jomer lowering his blade. 'But wanderers in the 
Riddermark would be wise to be less haughty in these days of doubt. First 
tell me your right name.' 

'First tell me whom you serve,' said Aragorn. 'Are you friend or foe of 
Sauron, the Dark Lord of Mordor?' 

'I serve only the Lord of the Mark, Thjoden King son of Thengel,' 
answered Jomer. 'We do not serve the Power of the Black Land far away, but 
neither are we yet at open war with him; and if you are fleeing from him, 
then you had best leave this land. There is trouble now on all our borders, 
and we are threatened; but we desire only to be free, and to live as we have 
lived, keeping our own, and serving no foreign lord, good or evil. We 
welcomed guests kindly in the better days, but in these times the unbidden 
stranger finds us swift and hard. Come! Who are you? Whom do you serve? 
At 

whose command do you hunt Ores in our land?' 

'I serve no man,' said Aragorn; 'but the servants of Sauron I pursue 
into whatever land they may go. There are few among mortal Men who know 
more 

of Ores; and I do not hunt them in this fashion out of choice. The Ores whom 
we pursued took captive two of my friends. In such need a man that has no 
horse will go on foot, and he will not ask for leave to follow the trail. 

Nor will he count the heads of the enemy save with a sword. I am not 
weaponless.' 

Aragorn threw back his cloak. The elven-sheath glittered as he grasped 
it, and the bright blade of And®ril shone like a sudden flame as he swept it 
out. 'Elendil!' he cried. 'I am Aragorn son of Arathorn and am called 
Elessar, the Elfstone, D®nadan, the heir of Isildur Elendil's son of Gondor. 
Here is the Sword that was Broken and is forged again! Will you aid me or 
thwart me? Choose swiftly!' 

Gimli and Legolas looked at their companion in amazement, for they had 
not seen him in this mood before. He seemed to have grown in stature while 




Jomer had shrunk; and in his living face they caught a brief vision of the 
power and majesty of the kings of stone. For a moment it seemed to the eyes 
of Legolas that a white flame flickered on the brows of Aragorn like a 
shining crown. 

Jomer stepped back and a look of awe was in his face. He cast down his 
proud eyes. These are indeed strange days,' he muttered. 'Dreams and 
legends spring to life out of the grass. 

Tell me, lord,' he said, 'what brings you here? And what was the 
meaning of the dark words? Long has Boromir son of Denethor been gone 
seeking an answer, and the horse that we lent him came back riderless. What 
doom do you bring out of the North?' 

'The doom of choice,' said Aragorn. 'You may say this to Thjoden son of 
Thengel: open war lies before him, with Sauron or against him. None may live 
now as they have lived, and few shall keep what they call their own. But of 
these great matters we will speak later. If chance allows, I will come 
myself to the king. Now I am in great need, and I ask for help, or at least 
for tidings. You heard that we are pursuing an ore-host that carried off our 
friends. What can you tell us?' 

'That you need not pursue them further,' said Jomer. 'The Ores are 
destroyed.' 

'And our friends?' 

'We found none but Ores.' 

'But that is strange indeed,' said Aragorn. 'Did you search the slain? 

Were there no bodies other than those of ore -kind? They would be small. Only 
children to your eyes, unshod but clad in grey.' 

'There were no dwarves nor children,' said Jomer. 'We counted all the 
slain and despoiled them, and then we piled the carcases and burned them, as 
is our custom. The ashes are smoking still.' 

'We do not speak of dwarves or children,' said Gimli. 'Our friends were 
hobbits.' 

'Hobbits?' said Jomer. 'And what may they be? It is a strange name.' 

'A strange name for a strange folk,' said Gimli. 'But these were very 
dear to us. It seems that you have heard in Rohan of the words that troubled 
Minas Tirith. They spoke of the Halfling. These hobbits are Halflings.' 

'Halflings!' laughed the Rider that stood beside Jomer. 'Halflings! But 
they are only a little people in old songs and children's tales out of the 
North. Do we walk in legends or on the green earth in the daylight?' 




'A man may do both,' said Aragorn. ’For not we but those who come after 
will make the legends of our time. The green earth, say you? That is a 
mighty matter of legend, though you tread it under the light of day!' 

Time is pressing,’ said the Rider, not heeding Aragorn. 'We must 
hasten south, lord. Let us leave these wild folk to their fancies. Or let us 
bind them and take them to the king.' 

'Peace, Jothain!' said Jomer in his own tongue. 'Leave me a while. Tell 
the jored to assemble on the path' and make ready to ride to the Entwade.' 

Muttering Jothain retired, and spoke to the others. Soon they drew off 
and left Jomer alone with the three companions. 

'All that you say is strange, Aragorn.' he said. 'Yet you speak the 
truth, that is plain: the Men of the Mark do not lie, and therefore they are 
not easily deceived. But you have not told all. Will you not now speak more 
fully of your errand, so that I may judge what to do?' 

'I set out from Imladris, as it is named in the rhyme, many weeks ago,' 
answered Aragorn. 'With me went Boromir of Minas Tirith. My errand was to 
go 

to that city with the son of Denethor, to aid his folk in their war against 
Sauron. But the Company that I journeyed with had other business. Of that I 
cannot speak now. Gandalf the Grey was our leader.' 

'Gandalf !' Jomer exclaimed. 'Gandalf Greyhame is known in the Mark: but 
his name, I warn you, is no longer a password to the king's favour. He has 
been a guest in the land many times in the memory of men, coming as he will, 
after a season, or after many years. He is ever the herald of strange 
events: a bringer of evil, some now say. 

'Indeed since his last coming in the summer all things have gone amiss. 

At that time our trouble with Saruman began. Until then we counted Saruman 
our friend, hut Gandalf came then and warned us that sudden war was 
preparing in Isengard. He said that he himself had been a prisoner in 
Orthanc and had hardly escaped, and he begged for help. But Thjoden would 
not listen to him, and he went away. Speak not the name of Gandalf loudly in 
Thj oden's ears! He is wroth. For Gandalf took the horse that is called 
Shadowfax, the most precious of all the king's steeds, chief of the Mearas, 
which only the Lord of the Mark may ride. For the sire of their race was the 
great horse of Eorl that knew the speech of Men. Seven nights ago Shadowfax 
returned; but the king's anger is not less, for now the horse is wild and 
will let no man handle him.' 




’Then Shadowfax has found his way alone from the far North,' said 
Aragorn; 'for it was there that he and Gandalf parted. But alas! Gandalf 
will ride no longer. He fell into darkness in the Mines of Moria and comes 
not again.' 

'That is heavy tidings,' said Jomer. 'At least to me, and to many; 
though not to all, as you may find, if you come to the king.' 

'It is tidings more grievous than any in this land can understand, 
though it may touch them sorely ere the year is much older,' said Aragorn. 
'But when the great fall, the less must lead. My part it has been to guide 
our Company on the long road from Moria. Through Lurien we came — of 
which 

it were well that you should learn the truth ere you speak of it again — 
and thence down the leagues of the Great River to the falls of Rauros. There 
Boromir was slain by the same Ores whom you destroyed.' 

'Your news is all of woe!' cried Jomer in dismay. 'Great harm is this 
death to Minas Tirith, and to us all. That was a worthy man! All spoke his 
praise. He came seldom to the Mark, for he was ever in the wars on the 
East -borders; but I have seen him. More like to the swift sons of Eorl than 
to the grave Men of Gondor he seemed to me, and likely to prove a great 
captain of his people when his time came. But we have had no word of this 
grief out of Gondor. When did he fall?' 

'It is now the fourth day since he was slain,' answered Aragorn, 'and 
since the evening of that day we have journeyed from the shadow of Tol 
Brandir.' 

'On foot?' cried Jomer. 

'Yes, even as you see us.' 

Wide wonder came into Jomer's eyes. 'Strider is too poor a name, son of 
Arathorn,' he said. 'Wingfoot I name you. This deed of the three friends 
should be sung in many a hall. Forty leagues and five you have measured ere 
the fourth day is ended! Hardy is the race of Elendil! 

'But now, lord, what would you have me do! I must return in haste to 
Thjoden. I spoke warily before my men. It is true that we are not yet at 
open war with the Black Land, and there are some, close to the king's ear, 
that speak craven counsels; but war is coming. We shall not forsake our old 
alliance with Gondor, and while they fight we shall aid them: so say I and 
all who hold with me. The East-mark is my charge, the ward of the Third 
Marshal, and I have removed all our herds and herdfolk, withdrawing them 




beyond Entwash, and leaving none here but guards and swift scouts.' 

Then you do not pay tribute to Sauron?' said Gimli. 

'We do not and we never have.' said Jomer with a flash of his eyes; 
'though it comes to my ears that that lie has been told. Some years ago the 
Lord of the Black Land wished to purchase horses of us at great price, but 
we refused him. for he puts beasts to evil use. Then he sent plundering 
Ores, and they carry off what they can, choosing always the black horses: 
few of these are now left. Lor that reason our feud with the Ores is bitter. 

'But at this time our chief concern is with Saruman. He has claimed 
lordship over all this land, and there has been war between us for many 
months. He has taken Ores into his service, and Wolf-riders, and evil Men, 
and he has closed the Gap against us, so that we are likely to be beset both 
east and west. 

'It is ill dealing with such a foe: he is a wizard both cunning and 
dwimmer -crafty, having many guises. He walks here and there, they say, as an 
old man hooded and cloaked, very like to Gandalf, as many now recall. His 
spies slip through every net, and his birds of ill omen are abroad in the 
sky. I do not know how it will all end, and my heart misgives me; for it 
seems to me that his friends do not all dwell in Isengard. But if you come 
to the king's house, you shall see for yourself. Will you not come? Do I 
hope in vain that you have been sent to me for a help in doubt and need?' 

'I will come when I may,' said Aragorn. 

'Come now!' said Jomer. 'The Heir of Elendil would be a strength indeed 
to the Sons of Eorl in this evil tide. There is battle even now upon the 
Westemnet, and I fear that it may go ill for us. 

'Indeed in this riding north I went without the king's leave, for in my 
absence his house is left with little guard. But scouts warned me of the 
ore-host coming down out of the East Wall three nights ago, and among them 
they reported that some bore the white badges of Saruman. So suspecting what 
I most fear, a league between Orthanc and the Dark Tower, I led forth my 
jored , men of my own household; and we overtook the Ores at nightfall two 
days ago, near to the borders of the Entwood. There we surrounded them, and 
gave battle yesterday at dawn. Fifteen of my men I lost, and twelve horses 
alas! For the Ores were greater in number than we counted on. Others joined 
them, coming out of the East across the Great River: their trail is plain to 
see a little north of this spot. And others, too, came out of the forest. 

Great Ores, who also bore the White Hand of Isengard: that kind is stronger 




and more fell than all others. 

'Nonetheless we put an end to them. But we have been too long away. We 
are needed south and west. Will you not come? There are spare horses as you 
see. There is work for the Sword to do. Yes, and we could find a use for 
Gimli’s axe and the bow of Legolas, if they will pardon my rash words 
concerning the Lady of the Wood. I spoke only as do all men in my land, and 
I would gladly learn better.' 

'I thank you for your fair words,' said Aragorn, 'and my heart desires 
to come with you; but I cannot desert my friends while hope remains.' 

'Hope does not remain,' said Jomer. 'You will not find your friends on 
the North-borders.' 

'Yet my friends are not behind. We found a clear token not far from the 
East Wall that one at least of them was still alive there. But between the 
wall and the downs we have found no other trace of them, and no trail has 
turned aside, this way or that, unless my skill has wholly left me.' 

'Then what do you think has become of them?' 

'I do not know. They may have been slain and burned among the Ores; but 
that you will say cannot be, and I do not fear it. I can only think that 
they were carried off into the forest before the battle, even before you 
encircled your foes, maybe. Can you swear that none escaped your net in such 
a way?' 

'I would swear that no Ore escaped after we sighted them,' said Jomer. 

'We reached the forest-eaves before them, and if after that any living thing 
broke through our ring, then it was no Ore and had some elvish power.' 

'Our friends were attired even as we are,' said Aragorn; 'and you 
passed us by under the full light of day.' 

'I had forgotten that,' said Jomer. 'It is hard to be sure of anything 
among so many marvels. The world is all grown strange. Elf and Dwarf in 
company walk in our daily fields; and folk speak with the Lady of the Wood 
and yet live; and the Sword comes back to war that was broken in the long 
ages ere the fathers of our fathers rode into the Mark! How shall a man 
judge what to do in such times?' 

'As he ever has judged,' said Aragorn. 'Good and ill have not changed 
since yesteryear; nor are they one thing among Elves and Dwarves p and 
another among Men. It is a man's part to discern them, as much in the Golden 
Wood as in his own house.' 

'True indeed,' said Jomer. 'But I do not doubt you, nor the deed which 




my heart would do. Yet I am not free to do all as I would. It is against our 
law to let strangers wander at will in our land, until the king himself 
shall give them leave, and more strict is the command in these days of 
peril. I have begged you to come back willingly with me, and you will not. 
Loth am I to begin a battle of one hundred against three.' 

’I do not think your law was made for such a chance,’ said Aragorn. 

'Nor indeed am I a stranger; for I have been in this land before, more than 
once, and ridden with the host of the Rohirrim, though under other name and 
in other guise. You I have not seen before, for you are young, but I have 
spoken with Jomund your father, and with Thjoden son of Thengel. Never in 
former days would any high lord of this land have constrained a man to 
abandon such a quest as mine. My duty at least is clear, to go on. Come now, 
son of Jomund, the choice must be made at last. Aid us, or at the worst let 
us go free. Or seek to carry out your law. If you do so there will be fewer 
to return to your war or to your king.' 

Jomer was silent for a moment, then he spoke. 'We both have need of 
haste,' he said. 'My company chafes to be away, and every hour lessens your 
hope. This is my choice. You may go; and what is more, I will lend you 
horses. This only I ask: when your quest is achieved, or is proved vain, 
return with the horses over the Entwade to Meduseld, the high house in 
Edoras where Thjoden now sits. Thus you shall prove to him that I have not 
misjudged. In this I place myself, and maybe my very life, in the keeping of 
your good faith. Do not fail.' 

'I will not,' said Aragorn. 

There was great wonder, and many dark and doubtful glances, among his 
men, when Jomer gave orders that the spare horses were to be lent to the 
strangers; but only Jothain dared to speak openly. 

'It may be well enough for this lord of the race of Gondor, as he 
claims,' he said, 'but who has heard of a horse of the Mark being given to a 
Dwarf?' 

'No one,' said Gimli. 'And do not trouble: no one will ever hear of it. 

I would sooner walk than sit on the back of any beast so great, free or 
begrudged.' 

'But you must ride now, or you will hinder us,' said Aragorn. 

'Come, you shall sit behind me, friend Gimli, said Legolas. Then all 
will be well, and you need neither borrow a horse nor be troubled by one.' 

A great dark-grey horse was brought to Aragorn, and he mounted it. 




'Hasufel is his name,' said Jomer. 'May he bear you well and to better 
fortune than Gbrulf, his late master!' 

A smaller and lighter horse, but restive and fiery, was brought to 
Legolas. Arod was his name. But Legolas asked them to take off saddle and 
rein. 'I need them not,' he said, and leaped lightly up, and to their wonder 
Arod was tame and willing beneath him, moving here and there with but a 
spoken word: such was the elvish way with all good beasts. Gimli was lifted 
up behind his friend, and he clung to him, not much more at ease than Sam 
Gamgee in a boat. 

'Farewell, and may you find what you seek!' cried Jomer. 'Return with 
what speed you may, and let our swords hereafter shine together!' 

'I will come,' said Aragorn. 

'And I will come, too,' said Gimli. 'The matter of the Lady Galadriel 
lies still between us. I have yet to teach you gentle speech. ' 

'We shall see,' said Jomer. 'So many strange things have chanced that 
to learn the praise of a fair lady under the loving strokes of a Dwarfs axe 
will seem no great wonder. Farewell!' 

With that they parted. Very swift were the horses of Rohan. When after 
a little Gimli looked back, the company of Jomer were already small and far 
away. Aragorn did not look back: he was watching the trail as they sped on 
their way, bending low with his head beside the neck of Hasufel. Before long 
they came to the borders of the Entwash, and there they met the other trail 
of which Jomer had spoken, coming down from the East out of the Wold. 

Aragorn dismounted and surveyed the ground, then leaping back into the 
saddle, he rode away for some distance eastward, keeping to one side and 
taking care not to override the footprints. Then he again dismounted and 
examined the ground, going backwards and forwards on foot. 

'There is little to discover,' he said when he returned. 'The main 
trail is all confused with the passage of the horsemen as they came back; 
their outward course must have lain nearer the river. But this eastward 
trail is fresh and clear. There is no sign there of any feet going the other 
way, back towards Anduin. Now we must ride slower, and make sure that no 
trace or footstep branches off on either side. The Ores must have been aware 
from this point that they were pursued; they may have made some attempt to 
get their captives away before they were overtaken.' 

As they rode forward the day was overcast. Low grey clouds came over 
the Wold. A mist shrouded the sun. Ever nearer the tree-clad slopes of 




Fangorn loomed, slowly darkling as the sun went west. They saw no sign of 
any trail to right or left, but here and there they passed single Ores, 
fallen in their tracks as they ran, with grey -feathered arrows sticking in 
back or throat. 

At last as the afternoon was waning they came to the eaves of the 
forest, and in an open glade among the first trees they found the place of 
the great burning: the ashes were still hot and smoking. Beside it was a 
great pile of helms and mail, cloven shields, and broken swords, bows and 
darts and other gear of war. Upon a stake in the middle was set a great 
goblin head; upon its shattered helm the white badge could still be seen. 
Further away, not far from the river, where it came streaming out from the 
edge of the wood, there was a mound. It was newly raised: the raw earth was 
covered with fresh-cut turves: about it were planted fifteen spears. 

Aragorn and his companions searched far and wide about the field of 
battle, but the light faded, and evening soon drew down, dim and misty. By 
nightfall they had discovered no trace of Merry and Pippin. 

'We can do no more,' said Gimli sadly. 'We have been set many riddles 
since we came to Tol Brandir, but this is the hardest to unravel. I would 
guess that the burned bones of the hobbits are now mingled with the Ores'. 

It will be hard news for Frodo, if he lives to hear it; and hard too for the 
old hobbit who waits in Rivendell. Elrond was against their coming.' 

'But Gandalf was not,' said Legolas. 

'But Gandalf chose to come himself, and he was the first to be lost ' 
answered Gimli. 'His foresight failed him.' 

'The counsel of Gandalf was not founded on foreknowledge of safety, for 
himself or for others,' said Aragorn. 'There are some things that it is 
better to begin than to refuse, even though the end may be dark. But I shall 
not depart from this place yet. In any case we must here await the 
morning -light.' 

A little way beyond the battle-field they made their camp under a 
spreading tree: it looked like a chestnut, and yet it still bore many broad 
brown leaves of a former year, like dry hands with long splayed fingers; 
they rattled mournfully in the night-breeze. 

Gimli shivered. They had brought only one blanket apiece. 'Let us light 
a fire,' he said. 'I care no longer for the danger. Let the Ores come as 
thick as summer-moths round a candle!' 

'If those unhappy hobbits are astray in the woods, it might draw them 




hither,' said Legolas. 

'And it might draw other things, neither Ore nor Hobbit,' said Aragorn. 

'We are near to the mountain-marches of the traitor Saruman. Also we are on 
the very edge of Fangorn, and it is perilous to touch the trees of that 
wood, it is said.' 

'But the Rohirrim made a great burning here yesterday,' said Gimli, 

'and they felled trees for the fire, as can be seen. Yet they passed the 
night after safely here, when their labour was ended.' 

'They were many,' said Aragorn, 'and they do not heed the wrath of 
Fangorn, for they come here seldom, and they do not go under the trees. But 
our paths are likely to lead us into the very forest itself. So have a care! 

Cut no living wood!' 

'There is no need,' said Gimli. 'The Riders have left chip and bough 
enough, and there is dead wood lying in plenty.' He went off to gather fuel, 
and busied himself with building and kindling a fire; but Aragorn sat silent 
with his back to the great tree, deep in thought; and Legolas stood alone in 
the open, looking towards the profound shadow of the wood, leaning forward, 
as one who listens to voices calling from a distance. 

When the Dwarf had a small bright blaze going, the three companions 
drew close to it and sat together, shrouding the light with their hooded 
forms. Legolas looked up at the boughs of the tree reaching out above them. 

'Look!' he said. 'The tree is glad of the fire!' 

It may have been that the dancing shadows tricked their eyes, but 
certainly to each of the companions the boughs appeared to be bending this 
way and that so as to come above the flames, while the upper branches were 
stooping down; the brown leaves now stood out stiff, and rubbed together 
like many cold cracked hands taking comfort in the warmth. 

There was a silence, for suddenly the dark and unknown forest, so near 
at hand, made itself felt as a great brooding presence, full of secret 
purpose. After a while Legolas spoke again. 

'Celeborn warned us not to go far into Fangorn,' he said. 'Do you know 
why, Aragorn? What are the fables of the forest that Boromir had heard?' 

'I have heard many tales in Gondor and elsewhere,' said Aragorn, 'but 
if it were not for the words of Celeborn I should deem them only fables that 
Men have made as true knowledge fades. I had thought of asking you what 
was 

the truth of the matter. And if an Elf of the Wood does not know, how shall 




a Man answer?' 

’You have journeyed further than I,' said Legolas. 'I have heard 
nothing of this in my own land, save only songs that tell how the Onodrim, 
that Men call Ents, dwelt there long ago; for Fangorn is old, old even as 
the Elves would reckon it.' 

'Yes, it is old,' said Aragorn, 'as old as the forest by the 
Barrow-downs, and it is far greater. Elrond says that the two are akin, the 
last strongholds of the mighty woods of the Elder Days, in which the 
Firstborn roamed while Men still slept. Yet Fangorn holds some secret of its 
own. What it is I do not know.' 

'And I do not wish to know,' said Gimli. 'Let nothing that dwells in 
Fangorn be troubled on my account!' 

They now drew lots for the watches, and the lot for the first watch 
fell to Gimli. The others lay down. Almost at once sleep laid hold on them. 
'Gimli!' said Aragorn drowsily. 'Remember, it is perilous to cut bough or 
twig from a living tree in Fangorn. But do not stray far in search of dead 
wood. Let the fire die rather! Call me at need!' 

With that he fell asleep. Legolas already lay motionless, his fair 
hands folded upon his breast, his eyes unclosed, blending living night and 
deep dream, as is the way with Elves. Gimli sat hunched by the fire, running 
his thumb thoughtfully along the edge of his axe. The tree rustled. There 
was no other sound. 

Suddenly Gimli looked up, and there just on the edge of the fire-light 
stood an old bent man, leaning on a staff, and wrapped in a great cloak; his 
wide-brimmed hat was pulled down over his eyes. Gimli sprang up, too 
amazed 

for the moment to cry out, though at once the thought flashed into his mind 
that Saruman had caught them. Both Aragorn and Legolas, roused by his 
sudden 

movement, sat up and stared. The old man did not speak or make, sign. 

'Well, father, what can we do for you?' said Aragorn, leaping to his 
feet. 'Come and be warm, if you are cold!' He strode forward, but the old 
man was gone. There was no trace of him to be found near at hand, and they 
did not dare to wander far. The moon had set and the night was very dark. 

Suddenly Legolas gave a cry. 'The horses! The horses!' 

The horses were gone. They had dragged their pickets and disappeared. 
For me time the three companions stood still and silent, troubled by this 




new stroke of ill fortune. They were under the eaves of Fangorn, and endless 
leagues lay between them and the Men of Rohan, their only friends in this 
wide and dangerous land. As they stood, it seemed to them that they heard, 
far off in the night, the sound of horses whinnying and neighing. Then all 
was quiet again, except for the cold rustle of the wind. 

'Well, they are gone,' said Aragorn at last. 'We cannot find them or 
catch them; so that if they do not return of their own will, we must do 
without. We started on our feet, and we have those still.' 

'Feet!' said Gimli. 'But we cannot eat them as well as walk on them ' 

Fie threw some fuel on the fire and slumped down beside it. 

'Only a few hours ago you were unwilling to sit on a horse of Rohan,' 
laughed Legolas. 'You will make a rider yet.' 

'It seems unlikely that I shall have the chance,' said Gimli. 

'If you wish to know what I think,' he began again after a while 'I 
think it was Saruman. Who else? Remember the words of Jomer: he walks 
about 

like an old man hooded and cloaked. Those were the words. He has gone off 
with our horses, or scared them away, and here we are. There is more trouble 
coming to us, mark my words!' 

'I mark them,' said Aragorn. 'But I marked also that this old man had a 
hat not a hood. Still I do not doubt that you guess right, and that we are 
in peril here, by night or day. Yet in the meantime there is nothing that we 
can do but rest, while we may. I will watch for a while now, Gimli. I have 
more need of thought than of sleep.' 

The night passed slowly. Legolas followed Aragorn, and Gimli followed 
Legolas, and their watches wore away. But nothing happened. The old man did 
not appear again, and the horses did not return. 




Chapter 3 . The Uruk-Hai 



Pippin lay in a dark and troubled dream: it seemed that he could hear 
his own small voice echoing in black tunnels, calling Frodo, Frodo ! But 
instead of Frodo hundreds of hideous ore-faces grinned at him out of the 
shadows, hundreds of hideous arms grasped at him from every side. Where 
was 
Merry? 

He woke. Cold air blew on his face. He was lying on his back. Evening 
was coming and the sky above was growing dim. He turned and found that the 
dream was little worse than the waking. His wrists, legs, and ankles were 
tied with cords. Beside him Merry lay, white-faced, with a dirty rag bound 
across his brows. All about them sat or stood a great company of Ores. 

Slowly in Pippin's aching head memory pieced itself together and became 
separated from dream-shadows. Of course: he and Merry had run off into the 
woods. What had come over them? Why had they dashed off like that, taking 
no 

notice of old Strider? They had run a long way shouting— he could not 
remember how far or how long; and then suddenly they had crashed right into 
a group of Ores: they were standing listening, and they did not appear to 
see Merry and Pippin until they were almost in their arms. Then they yelled 
and dozens of other goblins had sprung out of the trees. Merry and he had 
drawn their swords, but the Ores did not wish to fight, and had tried only 
to lay hold of them, even when Merry had cut off several of their arms and 
hands. Good old Merry! 

Then Boromir had come leaping through the trees. He had made them 
fight. He slew many of them and the rest fled. But they had not gone far on 
the way back when they were attacked again, by a hundred Ores at least, some 
of them very large, and they shot a rain of arrows: always at Boromir. 
Boromir had blown his great horn till the woods rang, and at first the Ores 
had been dismayed and had drawn back; but when no answer but the echoes 
came, they had attacked more fierce than ever. Pippin did not remember much 
more. His last memo was of Boromir leaning against a tree, plucking out an 
arrow; then darkness fell suddenly. 

'I suppose I was knocked on the head,' he said to himself. 'I wonder if 




poor Merry is much hurt. What has happened to Boromir? Why didn’t the 
Ores 

kill us? Where are we, and where are we going?' 

He could not answer the questions. He felt cold and sick. 'I wish 
Gandalf had never persuaded Elrond to let us come,' he thought. ’What good 
have I been? Just a nuisance: a passenger, a piece of luggage. And now I 
have been stolen and I am just a piece of luggage for the Ores. I hope 
Strider or someone will come and claim us! But ought I to hope for it? Won't 
that throw out all the plans? I wish I could get free!' 

He struggled a little, quite uselessly. One of the Ores sitting near 
laughed and said something to a companion in their abominable tongue. 'Rest 
while you can, little fool!' he said then to Pippin, in the Common Speech, 
which he made almost as hideous as his own language. 'Rest while you can! 
We'll find a use for your legs before long. You'll wish you had got none 
before we get home.' 

'If I had my way, you'd wish you were dead now,' said the other. 'I'd 
make you squeak, you miserable rat.' He stooped over Pippin bringing his 
yellow fangs close to his face. He had a black knife with a long jagged 
blade in his hand. 'Lie quiet, or I'll tickle you with this,' he hissed. 

'Don't draw attention to yourself, or I may forget my orders. Curse the 
Isengarders! Ugl®k u bagronk sha pushdug Saruman-glob b®bhosh skai' 
he 

passed into a long angry speech in his own tongue that slowly died away into 
muttering and snarling. 

Terrified Pippin lay still, though the pain at his wrists and ankles 
was growing, and the stones beneath him were boring into his back. To take 
his mind off himself he listened intently to all that he could hear. There 
were many voices round about, and though ore-speech sounded at all times 
full of hate and anger, it seemed plain that something like a quarrel had 
begun, and was getting hotter. 

To Pippin's surprise he found that much of the talk was intelligible 
many of the Ores were using ordinary language. Apparently the members of 
two 

or three quite different tribes were present, and they could not understand 
one another's ore-speech. There was an angry debate concerning what they 
were to do now: which way they were to take and what should be done with the 
prisoners. 




'There's no time to kill them properly,' said one. 'No time for play on 
this trip.' 

'That can't be helped,' said another. 'But why not kill them quick, 
kill them now? They're a cursed nuisance, and we're in a hurry. Evening's 
coming on, and we ought to get a move on.' 

'Orders.' said a third voice in a deep growl. 'Kill all but NOT the 
Halfings; they are to be brought back ALIVE as quickly as possible. That's 
my orders.' 

'What are they wanted for?' asked several voices. 'Why alive? Do they 
give good sport?' 

'No! I heard that one of them has got something, something that's 
wanted for the War, some elvish plot or other. Anyway they'll both be 
questioned.' 

'Is that all you know? Why don't we search them and find out? We might 
find something that we could use ourselves.' 

'That is a very interesting remark,' sneered a voice, softer than the 
others but more evil. 'I may have to report that. The prisoners are NOT to 
be searched or plundered: those are my orders.' 

'And mine too,' said the deep voice. 'Alive and as captured; no 
spoiling. That's my orders.' 

'Not our orders!' said one of the earlier voices. 'We have come all the 
way from the Mines to kill, and avenge our folk. I wish to kill, and then go 
back north.' 

'Then you can wish again,' said the growling voice. 'I am Ugl®k. I 
command. I return to Isengard by the shortest road.' 

'Is Saruman the master or the Great Eye?' said the evil voice. 'We 
should go back at once to Lugb®rz.' 

'If we could cross the Great River, we might,' said another voice. 'But 
there are not enough of us to venture down to the bridges.' 

'I came across,' said the evil voice. 'A winged Nazgyl awaits us 
northward on the east -bank.' 

'Maybe, maybe! Then you'll fly off with our prisoners, and get all the 
pay and praise in Lugb®rz, and leave us to foot it as best we can through 
the Horse-country. No, we must stick together. These lands are dangerous: 
full of foul rebels and brigands.' 

'Aye, we must stick together,' growled Ugl®k. 'I don't trust you little 
swine. You've no guts outside your own sties. But for us you'd all have run 




away. We are the fighting Uruk-hai! We slew the great warrior. We took the 
prisoners. We are the servants of Saruman the Wise, the White Hand: the Hand 
that gives us man’s-flesh to eat. We came out of Isengard, and led you here, 
and we shall lead you back by the way we choose. I am UgKDk. I have spoken.' 

'You have spoken more than enough, UgKDk,' sneered the evil voice. 'I 
wonder how they would like it in Lugb(Drz. They might think that Ugl®k's 
shoulders needed relieving of a swollen head. They might ask where his 
strange ideas came from. Did they come from Saruman, perhaps? Who does 
he 

think he is, setting up on his own with his filthy white badges? They might 
agree with me, with Grishnbkh their trusted messenger; and I Grishnbkh say 
this: Saruman is a fool, and a dirty treacherous fool. But the Great Eye is 
on him. 

'Swine is it? How do you folk like being called swine by the 
muck-rakers of a dirty little wizard? It's ore-flesh they eat, I'll 
warrant.' 

Many loud yells in ore-speech answered him, and the ringing clash of 
weapons being drawn. Cautiously Pippin rolled over, hoping to see what would 
happen. His guards had gone to join in the fray. In the twilight he saw a 
large black Ore, probably Ugl®k, standing facing Grishnbkh, a short 
crook -legged creature, very broad and with long arms that hung almost to the 
ground. Round them were many smaller goblins. Pippin supposed that these 
were the ones from the North. They had drawn their knives and swords, but 
hesitated to attack Ugl®k. 

Ugl®k shouted, and a number of other Ores of nearly his own size ran 
up. Then suddenly, without warning, Ugl®k sprang forwards, and with two 
swift strokes swept the heads off two of his opponents. Grishnbkh stepped 
aside and vanished into the shadows. The others gave way, and one stepped 
backwards and fell over Merry's prostrate form with a curse. Yet that 
probably saved his life, for Ugl®k's followers leaped over him and cut down 
another with their broad-bladed swords. It was the yellow-fanged guard. His 
body fell right on top of Pippin, still clutching its long saw-edged knife. 

'Put up your weapons!' shouted Ugl®k. 'And let's have no more nonsense! 
We go straight west from here, and down the stair. From there straight to 
the downs, then along the river to the forest. And we march day and night. 
That clear?' 

'Now,' thought Pippin, 'if only it takes that ugly fellow a little 




while to get his troop under control, I've got a chance.’ A gleam of hope 
had come to him. The edge of the black knife had snicked his arm, and then 
slid down to his wrist. He felt the blood trickling on to his hand, but he 
also felt the cold touch of steel against his skin. 

The Ores were getting ready to march again, but some of the Northerners 
were still unwilling, and the Isengarders slew two more before the rest were 
cowed. There was much cursing and confusion. For the moment Pippin was 
unwatched. His legs were securely bound, but his arms were only tied about 
the wrists, and his hands were in front of him. He could move them both 
together, though the bonds were cruelly tight. He pushed the dead Ore to one 
side, then hardly daring to breathe, he drew the knot of the wrist-cord up 
and down against the blade of the knife. It was sharp and the dead hand held 
it fast. The cord was cut! Quickly Pippin took it in his fingers and knotted 
it again into a loose bracelet of two loops and slipped it over his hands. 

Then he lay very still. 

'Pick up those prisoners!' shouted Ugl®k. 'Don't play any tricks with 
them! If they are not alive when we get back, someone else will die too.' 

An Ore seized Pippin like a sack, put its head between his tied hands, 
grabbed his arms and dragged them down, until Pippin's face was crushed 
against its neck; then it jolted off with him. Another treated Merry in the 
same way. The Ore's clawlike hand gripped Pippin's arms like iron; the nails 
bit into him. He shut his eyes and slipped back into evil dreams. 

Suddenly he was thrown on to the stony floor again. It was early night, 
but the slim moon was already falling westward. They were on the edge of a 
cliff that seemed to look out over a sea of pale mist. There was a sound of 
water falling nearby. 

'The scouts have come back at last,' said an Ore close at hand. 

'Well, what did you discover?' growled the voice of Ugl®k. 

'Only a single horseman, and he made off westwards. All's clear now.' 

'Now, I daresay. But how long? You fools! You should have shot him. 
He'll raise the alarm. The cursed horsebreeders will hear of us by morning. 
Now we'll have to leg it double quick.' 

A shadow bent over Pippin. It was Ugl®k. 'Sit up!' said the Ore. 'My 
lads are tired of lugging you about. We have got to climb down and you must 
use your legs. Be helpful now. No crying out, no trying to escape. We have 
ways of paying for tricks that you won't like, though they won't spoil your 
usefulness for the Master.' 




He cut the thongs round Pippin's legs and ankles, picked him up by his 
hair and stood him on his feet. Pippin fell down, and UgKDk dragged him up 
by his hair again. Several Ores laughed. UgKDk thrust a flask between his 
teeth and poured some burning liquid down his throat: he felt a hot fierce 
glow flow through him. The pain in his legs and ankles vanished. He could 
stand. 

'Now for the other!' said UgKDk. Pippin saw him go to Merry, who was 
lying close by, and kick him. Merry groaned. Seizing him roughly UgKDk 
pulled him into a sitting position, and tore the bandage off his head. Then 
he smeared the wound with some dark stuff out of a small wooden box. Merry 
cried out and struggled wildly. 

The Ores clapped and hooted. 'Can't take his medicine,' they jeered. 
'Doesn't know what's good for him. Ai! We shall have some fun later.' 

But at the moment UgKDk was not engaged in sport. He needed speed and 
had to humour unwilling followers. He was healing Merry in ore-fashion; and 
his treatment worked swiftly. When he had forced a drink from his flask down 
the hobbit's throat, cut his leg-bonds, and dragged him to his feet, Merry 
stood up, looking pale but grim and defiant, and very much alive. The gash 
in his forehead gave him no more trouble, but he bore a brown scar to the 
end of his days. 

'Hullo, Pippin!' he said. 'So you've come on this little expedition, 
too? Where do we get bed and breakfast?' 

'Now then!' said UgKDk. 'None of that! Hold your tongues. No talk to 
one another. Any trouble will be reported at the other end, and He'll know 
how to pay you. You'll get bed and breakfast all right: more than you can 
stomach.' 

The ore -band began to descend a narrow ravine leading down into the 
misty plain below. Merry and Pippin, separated by a dozen Ores or more, 
climbed down with them. At the bottom they stepped on to grass, and the 
hearts of the hobbits rose. 

'Now straight on!' shouted UgKDk. 'West and a little north. Follow 
Lugdush.' 

'But what are we going to do at sunrise?' said some of the Northerners. 

'Go on running,' said UgKDk. 'What do you think? Sit on the grass and 
wait for the Whiteskins to join the picnic?' 

'But we can't run in the sunlight.' 

'You'll run with me behind you,' said UgKDk. 'Run! Or you'll never see 




your beloved holes again. By the White Hand! What's the use of sending out 
mountain-maggots on a trip, only half trained. Run, curse you! Run while 
night lasts!' 

Then the whole company began to run with the long loping strides of 
Ores. They kept no order, thrusting, jostling, and cursing; yet their speed 
was very great. Each hobbit had a guard of three. Pippin was far back in the 
line. He wondered how long he would be able to go on at this pace: he had 
had no food since the morning. One of his guards had a whip. But at present 
the ore-liquor was still hot in him. His wits, too, were wide-awake. 

Every now and again there came into his mind unbidden a vision of the 
keen face of Strider bending over a dark trail, and running, running behind. 

But what could even a Ranger see except a confused trail of ore-feet? His 
own little prints and Merry's were overwhelmed by the trampling of the 
iron-shod shoes before them and behind them and about them. 

They had gone only a mile or so from the cliff when the land sloped 
down into a wide shallow depression, where the ground was soft and wet. Mist 
lay there, pale-glimmering in the last rays of the sickle moon. The dark 
shapes of the Ores in front grew dim, and then were swallowed up. 

'Ai! Steady now!' shouted UgKDk from the rear. 

A sudden thought leaped into Pippin's mind, and he acted on it at once. 

He swerved aside to the right, and dived out of the reach of his clutching 
guard, headfirst into the mist; he landed sprawling on the grass. 

'Halt!' yelled UgKDk. 

There was for a moment turmoil and confusion. Pippin sprang up and ran. 
But the Ores were after him. Some suddenly loomed up right in front of him. 

'No hope of escape!' thought Pippin. 'But there is a hope that I have 
left some of my own marks unspoilt on the wet ground.' He groped with his 
two tied hands at his throat, and unclasped the brooch of his cloak. Just as 
long arms and hard claws seized him. he let it fall. 'There I suppose it 
will lie until the end of time,' he thought. 'I don't know why I did it. If 
the others have escaped, they've probably all gone with Frodo.' 

A whip-thong curled round his legs, and he stifled a cry. 

'Enough!' shouted UgKDk running up. 'He's still got to run a long way 
yet. Make 'em both run! Just use the whip as a reminder.' 

'But that's not all,' he snarled, turning to Pippin. 'I shan't forget. 

Payment is only put off. Leg it!' 

Neither Pippin nor Merry remembered much of the later part of the 




journey. Evil dreams and evil waking were blended into a long tunnel of 
misery, with hope growing ever fainter behind. They ran, and they ran, 
striving to keep up the pace set by the Ores, licked every now and again 
with a cruel thong cunningly handled. If they halted or stumbled, they were 
seized and dragged for some distance. 

The warmth of the ore-draught had gone. Pippin felt cold and sick 
again. Suddenly he fell face downward on the turf. Hard hands with rending 
nails gripped and lifted him. He was carried like a sack once more, and 
darkness grew about him: whether the darkness of another night, or a 
blindness of his eyes, he could not tell. 

Dimly he became aware of voices clamouring: it seemed that many of the 
Ores were demanding a halt. UgKDk was shouting. He felt himself flung to the 
ground, and he lay as he fell, till black dreams took him. But he did not 
long escape from pain; soon the iron grip of merciless hands was on him 
again. For a long time he was tossed and shaken, and then slowly the 
darkness gave way, and he came back to the waking world and found that it 
was morning. Orders were shouted and he was thrown roughly on the grass. 

There he lay for a while, fighting with despair. His head swam, but 
from the heat in his body he guessed that he had been given another draught. 
An Ore stooped over him, and flung him some bread and a strip of raw dried 
flesh. He ate the stale grey bread hungrily, but not the meat. He was 
famished but not yet so famished as to eat flesh flung to him by an Ore, the 
flesh of he dared not guess what creature. 

He sat up and looked about. Merry was not far away. They were by the 
banks of a swift narrow river. Ahead mountains loomed: a tall peak was 
catching the first rays of the sun. A dark smudge of forest lay on the lower 
slopes before them. 

There was much shouting and debating among the Ores; a quarrel seemed 
on the point of breaking out again between the Northerners and the 
Isengarders. Some were pointing back away south, and some were pointing 
eastward. 

'Very well,' said UgKDk. 'Leave them to me then! No killing, as I've 
told you before; but if you want to throw away what we’ve come all the way 
to get, throw it away ! I'll look after it. Let the fighting Uruk-hai do the 
work, as usual. If you're afraid of the Whiteskins, run! Run! There's the 
forest,' he shouted, pointing ahead. 'Get to it! It's your best hope. Off 
you go ! And quick, before I knock a few more heads off, to put some sense 




into the others.' 

There was some cursing and scuffling, and then most of the Northerners 
broke away and dashed off, over a hundred of them, running wildly along the 
river towards the mountains. The hobbits were left with the Isengarders: a 
grim dark band, four score at least of large, swart, slant-eyed Ores with 
great bows and short broad-bladed swords. A few of the larger and bolder 
Northerners remained with them. 

'Now we'll deal with Grishnbkh,' said Ugl®k; but some even of his own 
followers were looking uneasily southwards. 

'I know,' growled Ugl®k. 'The cursed horse-boys have got wind of us. 

But that' s all your fault, Snaga. You and the other scouts ought to have 
your ears cut off. But we are the fighters. We'll feast on horseflesh yet, 
or something better.' 

At that moment Pippin saw why some of the troop had been pointing 
eastward. From that direction there now came hoarse cries, and there was 
Grishnbkh again, and at his back a couple of score of others like him: 
long-armed crook-legged Ores. They had a red eye painted on their shields. 
Ugl®k stepped forward to meet them. 'So you've come back?' he said. 'Thought 
better of it, eh?' 

'I've returned to see that Orders are carried out and the prisoners 
safe,' answered Grishnbkh. 

'Indeed!' said Ugl®k. 'Waste of effort. Ill see that orders are 
carried out in my command. And what else did you come back for? You went 
in 

a hurry. Did you leave anything behind?' 

'I left a fool,' snarled Grishnbkh. 'But there were some stout fellows 
with him that are too good to lose. I knew you'd lead them into a mess. I've 
come to help them.' 

'Splendid!' laughed Ugl®k. 'But unless you've got some guts for 
fighting, you've taken the wrong way. Lugb®rz was your road. The 
Whiteskins 

are coming. What's happened to your precious Nazgyl? Has he had another 
mount shot under him? Now, if you'd brought him along, that might have been 
useful-if these Nazgyl are all they make out.' 

'Nazgyl, Nazgyl,' said Grishnbkh, shivering and licking his lips, as if 
the word had a foul taste that he savoured painfully. 'You speak of what is 
deep beyond the reach of your muddy dreams, Ugl®k,' he said. 'Nazgyl! Ah! 




All that they make out! One day you'll wish that you had not said that. 
Ape!' he snarled fiercely. 'You ought to know that they're the apple of the 
Great Eye. But the winged Nazgyl: not yet, not yet. He won't let them show 
themselves across the Great River yet, not too soon. They're for the War -and 
other purposes.' 

'You seem to know a lot,' said Ugl®k. 'More than is good for you, I 
guess. Perhaps those in Lugb®rz might wonder how, and why. But in the 
meantime the Uruk-hai of Isengard can do the dirty work, as usual. Don't 
stand slavering there! Get your rabble together! The other swine are legging 
it to the forest. You'd better follow. You wouldn't get back to the Great 
River alive. Right off the mark! Now! I'll be on your heels.' 

The Isengarders seized Merry and Pippin again and slung them on their 
backs. Then the troop started off. Hour after hour they ran, pausing now and 
again only to sling the hobbits to fresh carriers. Either because they were 
quicker and hardier, or because of some plan of Grishnbkh's, the Isengarders 
gradually passed through the Ores of Mordor, and Grishnbkh's folk closed in 
behind. Soon they were gaining also on the Northerners ahead. The forest 
began to draw nearer. 

Pippin was bruised and torn, his aching head was grated by the filthy 
jowl and hairy ear of the Ore that held him. Immediately in front were bowed 
backs, and tough thick legs going up and down, up and down, unresting, as if 
they were made of wire and horn, beating out the nightmare seconds of an 
endless time. 

In the afternoon Ugl®k's troop overtook the Northerners. They were 
flagging in the rays of the bright sun, winter sun shining in a pale cool 
sky though it was; their heads were down and their tongues lolling out. 

'Maggots!' jeered the Isengarders. 'You're cooked. The Whiteskins will 
catch you and eat you. They're coming!' 

A cry from Grishnbkh showed that this was not mere jest. Horsemen, 
riding very swiftly, had indeed been sighted: still far behind, but gaining 
on the Ores, gaining on them like a tide over the flats on folk straying in 
a quicksand. 

The Isengarders began to run with a redoubled pace that astonished 
Pippin, a terrific spurt it seemed for the end of a race. Then he saw that 
the sun was sinking, falling behind the Misty Mountains; shadows reached 
over the land. The soldiers of Mordor lifted their heads and also began to 
put on speed. The forest was dark and close. Already they had passed a few 




outlying trees. The land was beginning to slope upwards, ever more steeply; 
but the Ores did not halt. Both Ugl®k and Grishnbkh shouted, spurring them 
on to a last effort. 

'They will make it yet. They will escape,' thought Pippin. And then he 
managed to twist his neck, so as to glance back with one eye over his 
shoulder. He saw that riders away eastward were already level with the Ores, 
galloping over the plain. The sunset gilded their spears and helmets, and 
glinted in their pale flowing hair. They were hemming the Ores in, 
preventing them from scattering, and driving them along the line of the 
river. 

He wondered very much what kind of folk they were. He wished now that 
he had learned more in Rivendell, and looked more at maps and things; but in 
those days the plans for the journey seemed to be in more competent hands, 
and he had never reckoned with being cut off from Gandalf, or from Strider, 
and even from Frodo. All that he could remember about Rohan was that 
Gandalf s horse, Shadowfax, had come from that land. That sounded hopeful, 
as far as it went. 

'But how will they know that we are not Ores?' he thought. 'I don't 
suppose they've ever heard of hobbits down here. I suppose I ought to be 
glad that the beastly Ores look like being destroyed, but I would rather be 
saved myself.' The chances were that he and Merry would be killed together 
with their captors, before ever the Men of Rohan were aware of them. 

A few of the riders appeared to be bowmen, skilled at shooting from a 
running horse. Riding swiftly into range they shot arrows at the Ores that 
straggled behind, and several of them fell; then the riders wheeled away out 
of the range of the answering bows of their enemies, who shot wildly, not 
daring to halt. This happened many times, and on one occasion arrows fell 
among the Isengarders. One of them, just in front of Pippin, stumbled and 
did not get up again. 

Night came down without the Riders closing in for battle. Many Ores had 
fallen, but fully two hundred remained. In the early darkness the Ores came 
to a hillock. The eaves of the forest were very near, probably no more than 
three furlongs away, but they could go no further. The horsemen had 
encircled them. A small band disobeyed UgKDk's command, and ran on 
towards 

the forest: only three returned. 

'Well, here we are,' sneered Grishnbkh. 'Fine leadership! I hope the 




great Ugl®k will lead us out again.' 

'Put those Halflings down!’ ordered Ugl®k, taking no notice of 
Grishnbkh. ’You, Lugdush, get two others and stand guard over them! They're 
not to be killed, unless the filthy Whiteskins break through. Understand? As 
long as I'm alive, I want 'em. But they're not to cry out, and they're not 
to be rescued. Bind their legs!' 

The last part of the order was carried out mercilessly. But Pippin 
found that for the first time he was close to Merry. The Ores were making a 
great deal of noise, shouting and clashing their weapons, and the hobbits 
managed to whisper together for a while. 

'I don't think much of this,' said Merry. 'I feel nearly done in. Don't 
think I could crawl away far, even if I was free.' 

'Lembas!' whispered Pippin. 'Lembas: I've got some. Have you? I don't 
think they've taken anything but our swords.' 

'Yes, I had a packet in my pocket,' answered Merry, 'but it must be 
battered to crumbs. Anyway I can't put my mouth in my pocket!' 

'You won't have to. I've—'; but just then a savage kick warned Pippin 
that the noise had died down, and the guards were watchful. 

The night was cold and still. All round the knoll on which the Ores 
were gathered little watch-fires sprang up, golden-red in the darkness, a 
complete ring of them. They were within a long bowshot, but the riders did 
not show themselves against the light, and the Ores wasted many arrows 
shooting at the fires, until Ugl®k stopped them. The riders made no sound. 
Later in the night when the moon came out of the mist, then occasionally 
they could be seen, shadowy shapes that glinted now and again in the white 
light, as they moved in ceaseless patrol. 

'They'll wait for the Sun, curse them!' growled one of the guards. 'Why 
don't we get together and charge through? What's old Ugl®k think he's doing, 

I should like to know?' 

'I daresay you would,' snarled Ugl®k stepping up from behind. Meaning 
I don't think at all, eh? Curse you! You're as bad as the other rabble: the 
maggots and the apes of Lugb®rz. No good trying to charge with them. They'd 
just squeal and bolt, and there are more than enough of these filthy 
horse-boys to mop up our lot on the flat. 

'There's only one thing those maggots can do: they can see like gimlets 
in the dark. But these Whiteskins have better night-eyes than most Men, from 
all I've heard; and don't forget their horses! They can see the 




night-breeze, or so it's said. Still there's one thing the fine fellows 
don't know: Mauh®r and his lads are in the forest, and they should turn up 
any time now.' 

Ugl®k's words were enough, apparently, to satisfy the Isengarders; but 
the other Ores were both dispirited and rebellious. They posted a few 
watchers, but most of them lay on the ground, resting in the pleasant 
darkness. It did indeed become very dark again; for the moon passed westward 
into thick cloud, and Pippin could not see anything a few feet away. The 
fires brought no light to the hillock. The riders were not, however, content 
merely to wait for the dawn and let their enemies rest. A sudden outcry on 
the east side of the knoll showed that something was wrong. It seemed that 
some of the Men had ridden in close, slipped off their horses, crawled to 
the edge of the camp and killed several Ores, and then had faded away again. 
Ugl®k dashed off to stop a stampede. 

Pippin and Merry sat up. Their guards, Isengarders, had gone with 
Ugl®k. But if the hobbits had any thought of escape, it was soon dashed. A 
long hairy arm took each of them by the neck and drew them close together. 
Dimly they were aware of Grishnbkh's great head and hideous face between 
them; his foul breath was on their cheeks. He began to paw them and feel 
them. Pippin shuddered as hard cold fingers groped down his back. 

'Well, my little ones!' said Grishnbkh in a soft whisper. 'Enjoying 
your nice rest? Or not? A little awkwardly placed, perhaps: swords and whips 
on one side, and nasty spears on the other! Little people should not meddle 
_in affairs that are too big for them.' His fingers continued to grope. 

There was a light like a pale but hot fire behind his eyes. 

The thought came suddenly into Pippin's mind, as if caught direct from 
the urgent thought of his enemy: 'Grishnbkh knows about the Ring! He's 
looking for it, while Ugl®k is busy: he probably wants it for himself.' Cold 
fear was in Pippin's heart, yet at the same time he was wondering what use 
he could make of Grishnbkh's desire. 

'I don't think you will find it that way,' he whispered. 'It isn't easy 
to find.' 

' Find it?' said Grishnbkh: his fingers stopped crawling and gripped 
Pippin's shoulder. 'Find what? What are you talking about, little one?'. For 
a moment Pippin was silent. Then suddenly in the darkness he made a noise in 
his throat: gollum, go llum. 'Nothing, my precious,' he added. 

The hobbits felt Grishnbkh's fingers twitch. 'O ho!' hissed the goblin 




softly. ’That's what he means, is it? O ho! Very ve-ry dangerous, my little 
ones.' 

’Perhaps,' said Merry, now alert and aware of Pippin’s guess. 'Perhaps; 
and not only for us. Still you know your own business best. Do you want it, 
or not? And what would you give for it?' 

'Do I want it? Do I want it?' said Grishnbkh, as if puzzled; but his 
arms were trembling. 'What would I give for it? What do you mean?' 

'We mean,' said Pippin, choosing his words carefully, 'that it's no 
good groping in the dark. We could save you time and trouble. But you must 
untie our legs first, or we'll do nothing, and say nothing.' 

'My dear tender little fools,' hissed Grishnbkh, 'everything you have, 
and everything you know, will be got out of you in due time: everything! 
You'll wish there was more that you could tell to satisfy the Questioner, 
indeed you will: quite soon. We shan't hurry the enquiry. Oh dear no! What 
do you think you've been kept alive for? My dear little fellows, please 
believe me when I say that it was not out of kindness: that's not even one 
of UgKDk's faults.' 

'I find it quite easy to believe,' said Merry. 'But you haven't got 
your prey home yet. And it doesn't seem to be going your way, whatever 
happens. If we come to Isengard, it won't be the great Grishnbkh that 
benefits: Saruman will take all that he can find. If you want anything for 
yourself, now's the time to do a deal.' 

Grishnbkh began to lose his temper. The name of Saruman seemed 
specially to enrage him. Time was passing and the disturbance was dying 
down. Ugl®k or the Isengarders might return at any minute. 

'Have you got it — either of you?' he snarled. 

'Gollum, go llum!' said Pippin. 

'Untie our legs!' said Merry. 

They felt the Ore's arms trembling violently. 'Curse you, you filthy 
little vermin!' he hissed. 'Untie your legs? I'll untie every string in your 
bodies. Do you think I can't search you to the bones? Search you! I'll cut 
you both to quivering shreds. I don't need the help of your legs to get you 
away-and have you all to myself!' 

Suddenly he seized them. The strength in his long arms and shoulders 
was terrifying. He tucked them one under each armpit, and crushed them 
fiercely to his sides; a great stifling hand was clapped over each of their 
mouths. Then he sprang forward, stooping low. Quickly and silently he went, 




until he came to the edge of the knoll. There, choosing a gap between the 
watchers, he passed like an evil shadow out into the night, down the slope 
and away westward towards the river that flowed out of the forest. In that 
direction there was a wide open space with only one fire. 

After going a dozen yards he halted, peering and listening. Nothing 
could be seen or heard. He crept slowly on, bent almost double. Then he 
squatted and listened again. Then he stood up, as if to risk a sudden dash. 

At that very moment the dark form of a rider loomed up right in front of 
him. A horse snorted and reared. A man called out. 

Grishnbkh flung himself on the ground flat, dragging the hobbits under 
him; then he drew his sword. No doubt he meant to kill his captives, rather 
than allow them to escape or to be rescued; but it was his undoing. The 
sword rang faintly, and glinted a little in the light of the fire away to 
his left. An arrow came whistling out of the gloom: it was aimed with skill, 
or guided by fate, and it pierced his right hand. He dropped the sword and 
shrieked. There was a quick beat of hoofs, and even as Grishnbkh leaped up 
and ran, he was ridden down and a spear passed through him. He gave a 
hideous shivering cry and lay still. 

The hobbits remained flat on the ground, as Grishnbkh had left them. 
Another horseman came riding swiftly to his comrade's aid. Whether because 
of some special keenness of sight, or because of some other sense, the horse 
lifted and sprang lightly over them; but its rider did not see them, lying 
covered in their elven-cloaks, too crushed for the moment, and too afraid to 
move. 

At last Merry stirred and whispered softly: 'So far so good: but how 
are we to avoid being spitted?’ 

The answer came almost immediately. The cries of Grishnbkh had roused 
the Ores. From the yells and screeches that came from the knoll the hobbits 
guessed that their disappearance had been discovered: Ugl®k was probably 
knocking off a few more heads. Then suddenly the answering cries of 
ore-voices came from the right, outside the circle of watch-fires, from the 
direction of the forest and the mountains. Mauh®r had apparently arrived and 
was attacking the besiegers. There was the sound of galloping horses. The 
Riders were drawing in their ring close round the knoll, risking the 
ore-arrows, so as to prevent any sortie, while a company rode off to deal 
with the newcomers. Suddenly Merry and Pippin realized that without moving 
they were now outside the circle: there was nothing between them and escape. 




'Now,' said Merry, 'if only we had our legs and hands free, we might 
get away. But I can’t touch the knots, and I can't bite them.' 

'No need to try,' said Pippin. 'I was going to tell you: I've managed 
to free my hands. These loops are only left for show. You'd better have a 
bit of lembas first.' 

He slipped the cords off his wrists, and fished out a packet. The cakes 
were broken, but good, still in their leaf- wrappings. The hobbits each ate 
two or three pieces. The taste brought back to them the memory of fair 
faces, and laughter, and wholesome food in quiet days now far away. For a 
while they ate thoughtfully, sitting in the dark, heedless of the cries and 
sounds of battle nearby. Pippin was the first to come back to the present. 

'We must be off,' he said. 'Half a moment!' Grishnbkh's sword was lying 
close at hand, but it was too heavy and clumsy for him to use; so he crawled 
forward, and finding the body of the goblin he drew from its sheath a long 
sharp knife. With this he quickly cut their bonds. 

'Now for it!' he said. 'When we've warmed up a bit, perhaps we shall be 
able to stand again, and walk. But in any case we had better start by 
crawling.' 

They crawled. The turf was deep and yielding, and that helped them: but 
it seemed a long slow business. They gave the watch-fire a wide berth, and 
wormed their way forward bit by bit, until they came to the edge of the 
river, gurgling away in the black shadows under its deep banks. Then they 
looked back. 

The sounds had died away. Evidently Mauh®r and his 'lads' had been 
killed or driven off. The Riders had returned to their silent ominous vigil. 

It would not last very much longer. Already the night was old. In the East, 
which had remained unclouded, the sky was beginning to grow pale. 

'We must get under cover,' said Pippin, 'or we shall be seen. It will 
not be any comfort to us, if these riders discover that we are not Ores 
after we are dead.' He got up and stamped his feet. 'Those cords have cut me 
like wires; but my feet are getting warm again. I could stagger on now. What 
about you, Merry?' 

Merry got up. 'Yes,' he said, 'I can manage it. Lembas does put heart 
into you! A more wholesome sort of feeling, too, than the heat of that 
ore-draught. I wonder what it was made of. Better not to know, I expect. 
Let's get a drink of water to wash away the thought of it!' 

'Not here, the banks are too steep,' said Pippin. 'Forward now!' 




They turned and walked side by side slowly along the line of the river. 
Behind them the light grew in the East. As they walked they compared notes, 
talking lightly in hobbit-fashion of the things that had happened since 
their capture. No listener would have guessed from their words that they had 
suffered cruelly, and been in dire peril, going without hope towards torment 
and death; or that even now, as they knew well, they had little chance of 
ever finding friend or safety again. 

'You seem to have been doing well, Master Took,' said Merry. 'You will 
get almost a chapter in old Bilbo's book, if ever I get a chance to report 
to him. Good work: especially guessing that hairy villain's little game, and 
playing up to him. But I wonder if anyone will ever pick up your trail and 
find that brooch. I should hate to lose mine, but I am afraid yours is gone 
for good. 

'I shall have to brush up my toes, if I am to get level with you. 

Indeed Cousin Brandybuck is going in front now. This is where he comes in. I 
don't suppose you have much notion where we are; but I spent my time at 
Rivendell rather better. We are walking west along the Entwash. The butt-end 
of the Misty Mountains is in front, and Fangorn Forest.' 

Even as he spoke the dark edge of the forest loomed up straight before 
them. Night seemed to have taken refuge under its great trees, creeping away 
from the coming Dawn. 

'Lead on, Master Brandybuck!' said Pippin. 'Or lead back! We have been 
warned against Fangorn. But one so knowing will not have forgotten that.' 

'I have not,' answered Merry; 'but the forest seems better to me, all 
the same, than turning back into the middle of a battle.' 

He led the way in under the huge branches of the trees. Old beyond 
guessing, they seemed. Great trailing beards of lichen hung from them, 
blowing and swaying in the breeze. Out of the shadows the hobbits peeped, 
gazing back down the slope: little furtive figures that in the dim light 
looked like elf-children in the deeps of time peering out of the Wild Wood 
in wonder at their first Dawn. 

Far over the Great River, and the Brown Lands, leagues upon grey 
leagues away, the Dawn came, red as flame. Loud rang the hunting-horns to 
greet it. The Riders of Rohan sprang suddenly to life. Horn answered horn 
again. 

Merry and Pippin heard, clear in the cold air, the neighing of 
war-horses, and the sudden singing of many men. The Sun's limb was lifted, 




an arc of fire, above the margin of the world. Then with a great cry the 
Riders charged from the East; the red light gleamed on mail and spear. The 
Ores yelled and shot all the arrows that remained to them. The hobbits saw 
several horsemen fall; but their line held on up the hill and over it, and 
wheeled round and charged again. Most of the raiders that were left alive 
then broke and fled, this way and that, pursued one by one to the death. But 
one band, holding together in a black wedge, drove forward resolutely in the 
direction of the forest. Straight up the slope they charged towards the 
watchers. Now they were drawing near, and it seemed certain that they would 
escape: they had already hewn down three Riders that barred their way. 

'We have watched too long,' said Merry. 'There's Ugl®k! I don't want to 
meet him again.' The hobbits turned and fled deep into the shadows of the 
wood. 

So it was that they did not sec the last stand, when Ugl®k was 
overtaken and brought to bay at the very edge of Fangorn. There he was slain 
at last by Jomer, the Third Marshal of the Mark, who dismounted and fought 
him sword to sword. And over the wide fields the keen-eyed Riders hunted 
down the few Ores that had escaped and still had strength to fly. 

Then when they had laid their fallen comrades in a mound and had sung 
their praises, the Riders made a great fire and scattered the ashes of their 
enemies. So ended the raid, and no news of it came ever back either to 
Mordor or to Isengard; but the smoke of the burning rose high to heaven and 
was seen by many watchful eyes. 




Chapter 4 . Treebeard 



Meanwhile the hobbits went with as much speed as the dark and tangled 
forest allowed, following the line of the running stream, westward and up 
towards the slopes of the mountains, deeper and deeper into Fangorn. Slowly 
their fear of the Ores died away, and their pace slackened. A queer stifling 
feeling came over them, as if the air were too thin or too scanty for 
breathing. 

At last Merry halted. 'We can't go on like this,' he panted. 'I want 
some air.' 

'Let's have a drink at any rate,' said Pippin. 'I'm parched.' He 
clambered on to a great tree-root that wound down into the stream, and 
stooping drew up some water in his cupped hands. It was clear and cold, and 
he took many draughts. Merry followed him. The water refreshed them and 
seemed to cheer their hearts; for a while they sat together on the brink of 
the stream, dabbling their sore feet and legs, and peering round at the 
trees that stood silently about them, rank upon rank, until they faded away 
into grey twilight in every direction. 

'I suppose you haven't lost us already?' said Pippin, leaning back 
against a great tree-trunk. 'We can at least follow the course of this 
stream, the Entwash or whatever you call it, and get out again the way we 
came.' 

'We could, if our legs would do it,' said Merry; 'and if we could 
breathe properly.' 

'Yes, it is all very dim, and stuffy, in here,' said Pippin. 'It 
reminds me, somehow, of the old room in the Great Place of the Tooks away 
back in the Smials at Tuckborough: a huge place, where the furniture has 
never been moved or changed for generations. They say the Old Took lived in 
it year after year, while he and the room got older and shabbier 
together-and it has never changed since he died, a century ago. And Old 
Gerontius was my great-great-grandfather: that puts it back a bit. But that 
is nothing to the old feeling of this wood. Look at all those weeping, 
trailing, beards and whiskers of lichen! And most of the trees seem to be 
half covered with ragged dry leaves that have never fallen. Untidy. I can't 
imagine what spring would look like here, if it ever comes; still less a 
spring-cleaning.' 




'But the Sun at any rate must peep in sometimes.' said Merry. 'It does 
not look or feel at all like Bilbo's description of Mirkwood. That was all 
dark and black, and the home of dark black things. This is just dim, and 
frightfully tree-ish. You can't imagine animals living here at all, or 
staying for long.' 

'No, nor hobbits,' said Pippin. 'And I don't like the thought of trying 
to get through it either. Nothing to cat for a hundred miles, I should 
guess. How are our supplies?' 

'Low,' said Merry. 'We ran off with nothing but a couple of spare 
packets of lembas, and left everything else behind.' They looked at what 
remained of the elven-cakes: broken fragments for about five meagre days, 
that was all. 'And not a wrap or a blanket,' said Merry. 'We shall be cold 
tonight, whichever way we go.' 

'Well, we'd better decide on the way now,' said Pippin. 'The morning 
must be getting on.' 

Just then they became aware of a yellow light that had appeared, some 
way further on into the wood: shafts of sunlight seemed suddenly to have 
pierced the forest -roof. 

'Hullo!' said Merry. 'The Sun must have run into a cloud while we've 
been under these trees, and now she has run out again; or else she has 
climbed high enough to look down through some opening. It isn't far let's go 
and investigate!' 

They found it was further than they thought. The ground was rising 
steeply still, and it was becoming increasingly stony. The light grew 
broader as they went on, and soon they saw that there was a rock -wall before 
them: the side of a hill, or the abrupt end of some long root thrust out by 
the distant mountains. No trees grew on it, and the sun was falling full on 
its stony face. The twigs of the trees at its foot were stretched out stiff 
and still, as if reaching out to the warmth. Where all had looked so shabby 
and grey before, the wood now gleamed with rich browns, and with the 
smooth 

black-greys of bark like polished leather. The boles of the trees glowed 
with a soft green like young grass: early spring or a fleeting vision of it 
was about them. 

In the face of the stony wall there was something like a stair: natural 
perhaps, and made by the weathering and splitting of the rock, for it was 
rough and uneven. High up, almost level with the tops of forest-trees, there 




was a shelf under a cliff. Nothing grew there but a few grasses and weeds at 
its edge, and one old stump of a tree with only two bent branches left: it 
looked almost like the figure of some gnarled old man, standing there, 
blinking in the morning -light. 

'Up we go!' said Merry joyfully. 'Now for a breath of air, and a sight 
of the land!' 

They climbed and scrambled up the rock. If the stair had been made it 
was for bigger feet and longer legs than theirs. They were too eager to be 
surprised at the remarkable way in which the cuts and sores of their 
captivity had healed and their vigour had returned. They came at length to 
the edge of the shelf almost at the feet of the old stump; then they sprang 
up and turned round with their backs to the hill, breathing deep, and 
looking out eastward. They saw that they had only come some three or four 
miles into the forest: the heads of the trees marched down the slopes 
towards the plain. There, near the fringe of the forest, tall spires of 
curling black smoke went up, wavering and floating towards them. 

’The wind's changing,' said Merry. ’It’s turned east again. It feels 
cool up here.' 

'Yes,' said Pippin; 'I'm afraid this is only a passing gleam, and it 
will all go grey again. What a pity! This shaggy old forest looked so 
different in the sunlight. I almost felt I liked the place.’ 

’Almost felt you liked the Forest! That's good! That's uncommonly kind 
of you,' said a strange voice. 'Turn round and let me have a look at your 
faces. I almost feel that I dislike you both, but do not let us be hasty. 

Turn round!' A large knob-knuckled hand was laid on each of their shoulders, 
and they were twisted round, gently but irresistibly; then two great arms 
lifted them up. 

They found that they were looking at a most extraordinary face. It 
belonged to a large Man-like, almost Troll-like, figure, at least fourteen 
foot high, very sturdy, with a tall head, and hardly any neck. Whether it 
was clad in stuff like green and grey bark, or whether that was its hide, 
was difficult to say. At any rate the arms, at a short distance from the 
trunk, were not wrinkled, but covered with a brown smooth skin. The large 
feet had seven toes each. The lower part of the long face was covered with a 
sweeping grey beard, bushy, almost twiggy at the roots, thin and mossy at 
the ends. But at the moment the hobbits noted little but the eyes. These 
deep eyes were now surveying them, slow and solemn, but very penetrating. 




They were brown, shot with a green light. Often afterwards Pippin tried to 
describe his first impression of them. 

'One felt as if there was an enormous well behind them, filled up with 
ages of memory and long, slow, steady thinking; but their surface was 
sparkling with the present: like sun shimmering on the outer leaves of a 
vast tree, or on the ripples of a very deep lake. I don’t know but it felt 
as if something that grew in the ground-asleep, you might say, or just 
feeling itself as something between roof-tip and leaf-tip, between deep 
earth and sky had suddenly waked up, and was considering you with the same 
slow care that it had given to its own inside affairs for endless years.' 

'Hrum, Hoorn,' murmured the voice, a deep voice like a very deep 
woodwind instrument. 'Very odd indeed! Do not be hasty, that is my motto. 
But if I had seen you, before I heard your voices-I liked them: nice little 
voices: they reminded me of something I cannot remember— if I had seen you 
before I heard you, I should have just trodden on you, taking you for little 
Ores, and found out my mistake afterwards. Very odd you are, indeed. Root 
and twig, very odd!' 

Pippin, though still amazed, no longer felt afraid. Under those eyes he 
felt a curious suspense, but not fear. 'Please.' he said, 'who are you? And 
what are you?' 

A queer look came into the old eyes, a kind of wariness; the deep wells 
were covered over. 'Hrum, now,' answered the voice; 'well, I am an Ent, or 
that's what they call me. Yes, Ent is the word. The Ent, I am, you might 
say, in your manner of speaking. Fangorn is my name according to some, 
Treebeard others make it. Treebeard will do.' 

'An EntT said Merry. 'What's that? But what do you call yourself? 

What's your real name?' 

'Hoo now!' replied Treebeard. 'Hoo! Now that would be telling! Not so 
hasty. And / am doing the asking. You are in my country. What are you, I 
wonder? I cannot place you. You do not seem to come in the old lists that I 
learned when I was young. But that was a long, long time ago, and they may 
have made new lists. Let me see! Let me see! Plow did it go? 

Learn now the lore of Living Creatures! 

First name the four, the free peoples: 

Eldest of all, the elf-children; 

Dwarf the delver, dark are his houses; 

Ent the earthborn, old as mountains; 




Man the mortal, master of horses: 

Hm, hm, hm. 

Beaver the builder, buck the leaper, 

Bear bee-hunter, boar the fighter; 

Hound is hungry, hare is fearful... 

hm, hm. 

Eagle in eyrie, ox in pasture, 

Hart horn-crowned; hawk is swiftest 

Swan the whitest, serpent coldest... 

Hoorn, hm; hoom. hm. how did it go? Room turn, room turn, roomty toom 
turn. 

It was a long list. But anyway you do not seem to fit in anywhere!' 

'We always seem to have got left out of the old lists, and the old 
stories,' said Merry. 'Yet we've been about for quite a long time. We're 
hobbits' 

'Why not make a new line?' said Pippin. 

’Half-grown hobbits, the hole-dwellers. 

Put us in amongst the four, next to Man (the Big People) and you've got 
it.' 

'Hm! Not bad, not bad,' said Treebeard. 'That would do. So you live in 
holes, eh? It sounds very right and proper. Who calls you hobbits, though? 
That does not sound elvish to me. Elves made all the old words: they began 
it.' 

'Nobody else calls us hobbits; we call ourselves that,' said Pippin. 

'Hoom, hmm! Come now! Not so hasty! You call yourselves hobbits? But 
you should not go telling just anybody. You'll be letting out your own right 
names if you're not careful.' 

'We aren't careful about that,' said Merry. 'As a matter of fact I'm a 
Brandybuck, Meriadoc Brandybuck, though most people call me just Merry.' 

'And I'm a Took, Peregrin Took, but I'm generally called Pippin, or 
even Pip.' 

'Hm, but you are hasty folk, I see,' said Treebeard. 'I am honoured by 
your confidence; but you should not be too free all at once. There are Ents 
and Ents, you know; or there are Ents and things that look like Ents but 
ain't, as you might say. I'll call you Merry and Pippin if you please-nice 
names. For I am not going to tell you my name, not yet at any rate.' A queer 
half-knowing, half-humorous look came with a green flicker into his eyes. 




’For one thing it would take a long while: my name is growing all the time, 
and I've lived a very long, long time; so my name is like a story. Real 
names tell you the story of the things they belong to in my language, in the 
Old Entish as you might say. It is a lovely language, but it takes a very 
long time to say anything in it, because we do not say anything in it. 
unless it is worth taking a long time to say, and to listen to. 

'But now,' and the eyes became very bright and 'present', seeming to 
grow smaller and almost sharp, 'what is going on? What are you doing in it 
all? I can see and hear ( and smell and feel) a great deal from this, from 
this, from this a-lalla-lalla-rumba-kamanda-lind-or-bur®ml. Excuse me: that 
is a part of my name for it; I do not know what the word is in the outside 
languages: you know, the thing we are on, where I stand and look out on fine 
mornings, and think about the Sun, and the grass beyond the wood, and the 
horses, and the clouds, and the unfolding of the world. What is going on? 
What is Gandalf up to? And these — burbrum,' he made a deep rumbling noise 
like a discord on a great organ — 'these Ores, and young Saruman down at 
Isengard? I like news. But not too quick now.' 

'There is quite a lot going on,' said Merry: 'and even if we tried to 
be quick, it would take a long time to tell. But you told us not to be 
hasty. Ought we to tell you anything so soon? Would you think it rude, if we 
asked what you are going to do with us, and which side you are on? And did 
you know Gandalf?' 

'Yes, I do know him: the only wizard that really cares about trees ' 
said Treebeard. 'Do you know him?' 

'Yes,' said Pippin sadly, 'we did. He was a great friend, and he was 
our guide.' 

'Then I can answer your other questions,' said Treebeard. 'I am not 
going to do anything with you: not if you mean by that 'do something to you' 
without your leave. We might do some things together. I don't know about 
sides. I go my own way; but your way may go along with mine for a while. But 
you speak of Master Gandalf, as if he was in a story that had come to an 
end.' 

'Yes, we do,' said Pippin sadly. 'The story seems to be going on, but I 
am afraid Gandalf has fallen out of it.' 

'Hoo, come now!' said Treebeard. 'Hoorn, hm, ah well.' He paused, 
looking long at the hobbits: 'Hoorn, ah, well I do not know what to say. Come 
now!' 




'If you would like to hear more, said Merry, 'we will tell you. But it 
will take some time. Wouldn't you like to put us down? Couldn't we sit here 
together in the sun, while it lasts? You must be getting tired of holding us 
up.' 

'Hm, tiredl No. I am not tired. I do not easily get tired. And I do not 
sit down. I am not very, hm, bendable. But there, the Sun is going in. Let 
us leave this — did you say what you call it?' 

'Hill?' suggested Pippin. 'Shelf? Step?' suggested Merry. 

Treebeard repeated the words thoughtfully. 'Hill. Yes, that was it. But 
it is a hasty word for a thing that has stood here ever since this part of 
the world was shaped. Never mind. Let us leave it, and go.' 

'Where shall we go?' asked Merry. 

'To my home, or one of my homes,' answered Treebeard. 

'Is it far?' 

'I do not know. You might call it far, perhaps. But what does that 
matter?' 

'Well, you see, we have lost all our belongings,' said Merry. 'We have 
only a little food.' 

'O! Hm! You need not trouble about that,' said Treebeard. 'I can give 
you a drink that will keep you green and growing for a long, long while. And 
if we decide to part company, I can set you down outside my country at any 
point you choose. Let us go!' 

Holding the hobbits gently but firmly, one in the crook of each arm, 
Treebeard lifted up first one large foot and then the other, and moved them 
to the edge of the shelf. The rootlike toes grasped the rocks. Then 
carefully and solemnly, he stalked down from step to step, and reached the 
floor of the Forest. 

At once he set off with long deliberate strides through the trees, 
deeper and deeper into the wood, never far from the stream, climbing 
steadily up towards the slopes of the mountains. Many of the trees seemed 
asleep, or as unaware of him as of any other creature that merely passed by; 
but some quivered, and some raised up their branches above his head as he 
approached. All the while, as he walked, he talked to himself in a long 
running stream of musical sounds. 

The hobbits were silent for some time. They felt, oddly enough, safe 
and comfortable, and they had a great deal to think and wonder about. At 
last Pippin ventured to speak again. 




’Please, Treebeard,' he said, ’could I ask you something? Why did 
Celeborn warn us against your forest? He told us not to risk getting 
entangled in it.' 

’Hmm, did he now?' rumbled Treebeard. 'And I might have said much the 
same, if you had been going the other way. Do not risk getting entangled in 
the woods of Laurelindurenan ! That is what the Elves used to call it, but 
now they make the name shorter: Lothlurien they call it. Perhaps they are 
right: maybe it is fading; not growing. Land of the Valley of Singing Gold, 
that was it, once upon a time. Now it is the Dreamflower. Ah well! But it is 
a queer place, and not for just any one to venture in. I am surprised that 
you ever got out, but much more surprised that you ever got in: that has not 
happened to strangers for many a year. It is a queer land. 

'And so is this. Folk have come to grief here. Aye, they have, to 
grief. Laurelindurenan lindelorendor malinornjlion ornemalin ,' he hummed to 
himself. 'They are falling rather behind the world in there, I guess,' he 
said 'Neither this country, nor anything else outside the Golden Wood, is 
what it was when Celeborn was young. Still: 

Taurelilumla-tumbalemorna Tumbaletaurla Lumlanor, 1 

that is what they used to say. Things have changed, but it is still 
true in places.' 

'What do you mean?' said Pippin. 'What is true?' 

'The trees and the Ents,' said Treebeard. 'I do not understand all that 
goes on myself, so I cannot explain it to you. Some of us are still true 
Ents, and lively enough in our fashion, but many are growing sleepy, going 
tree-ish, as you might say. Most of the trees are just trees, of course; but 
many are half awake. Some are quite wide awake, and a few are, well, ah, 
well getting Entish. That is going on all the time. 

'When that happens to a tree, you find that some have bad hearts. 
Nothing to do with their wood: I do not mean that. Why, I knew some good old 
willows down the Ent wash, gone long ago, alas! They were quite hollow, 
indeed they were falling all to pieces, but as quiet and sweet-spoken as a 
young leaf. And then there are some trees in the valleys under the 
mountains, sound as a bell, and bad right through. That sort of thing seems 
to spread. There used to be some very dangerous parts in this country. There 
are still some very black patches.' 

'Like the Old Forest away to the north, do you mean?' asked Merry. 

'Aye, aye. something like, but much worse. I do not doubt there is some 




shadow of the Great Darkness lying there still away north; and bad memories 
are handed down. But there are hollow dales in this land where the Darkness 
has never been lifted, and the trees are older than I am. Still, we do what 
we can. We keep off strangers and the foolhardy; and we train and we teach, 
we walk and we weed. 

'We are tree-herds, we old Ents. Few enough of us are left now. Sheep 
get like shepherd, and shepherds like sheep, it is said; but slowly, and 
neither have long in the world. It is quicker and closer with trees and 
Ents, and they walk down the ages together. For Ents are more like Elves: 
less interested in themselves than Men are, and better at getting inside 
other things. And yet again Ents are more like Men, more changeable than 
Elves are, and quicker at taking the colour of the outside, you might say. 

Or better than both: for they are steadier and keep their minds on things 
longer. 'Some of my kin look just like trees now, and need something great 
to rouse them; and they speak only in whispers. But some of my trees are 
limb-lithe, and many can talk to me. Elves began it, of course, waking trees 
up and teaching them to speak and learning their tree-talk. They always 
wished to talk to everything, the old Elves did. But then the Great Darkness 
came, and they passed away over the Sea, or fled into far valleys, and hid 
themselves, and made songs about days that would never come again. Never 
again. Aye, aye, there was all one wood once upon a time: from here to the 
Mountains of Lune, and this was just the East End. 

'Those were the broad days! Time was when I could walk and sing all day 
and hear no more than the echo of my own voice in the hollow hills. The 
woods were like the woods of Lothlurien. only thicker stronger, younger. And 
the smell of the air! I used to spend a week just breathing.' 

Treebeard fell silent, striding along, and yet making hardly a sound 
with his great feet. Then he began to hum again, and passed into a murmuring 
chant. Gradually the hobbits became aware that he was chanting to them: 

In the willow-meads ofTasarinan I walked in the Spring. 

Ah! the sight and the smell of the Spring in Nan-tasarion! 

And I said that was good. 

I wandered in Summer in the elm-woods of Ossiriand. 

Ah! the light and the music in the Summer by the Seven Rivers of Ossir! 

And I thought that was best. 

To the beeches ofNeldorethlcame in the Autumn. 

Ah! the gold and the red and the sighing of leaves in the Autumn in 




Taur-na-neldor! 

It was more than my desire. 

To the pine-trees upon the highland of Dorthonion I climbed in the 
Winter. 

Ah! the wind and the whiteness and the black branches of Winter upon 
Orod-na-Thfn! 

My voice went up and sang in the sky. 

And now all those lands lie under the wave. 

And I walk in Ambaruna, in Tauremorna, in Aldaluml. 

In my own land, in the country of F angorn, 

Where the roots are long, 

And the years lie thicker than the leaves 

In Tauremornaluml. 

He ended, and strode on silently, and in all the wood, as far as ear 
could reach, there was not a sound. 

The day waned, and dusk was twined about the boles of the trees. At 
last the hobbits saw, rising dimly before them, a steep dark land: they had 
come to the feet of the mountains, and to the green roots of tall Methedras. 
Down the hillside the young Entwash, leaping from its springs high above, 
ran noisily from step to step to meet them. On the right of the stream there 
was a long slope, clad with grass, now grey in the twilight. No trees grew 
there and it was open to the sky; stars were shining already in lakes 
between shores of cloud. 

Treebeard strode up the slope, hardly slackening his pace. Suddenly 
before them the hobbits saw a wide opening. Two great trees stood there, one 
on either side, like living gate-posts; but there was no gate save their 
crossing and interwoven boughs. As the old Ent approached, the trees lifted 
up their branches, and all their leaves quivered and rustled. For they were 
evergreen trees, and their leaves were dark and polished, and gleamed in the 
twilight. Beyond them was a wide level space, as though the floor of a great 
hall had been cut in the side of the hill. On either hand the walls sloped 
upwards, until they were fifty feet high or more, and along each wall stood 
an aisle of trees that also increased in height as they marched inwards. 

At the far end the rock-wall was sheer, but at the bottom it had been 
hollowed back into a shallow bay with an arched roof: the only roof of the 
hall, save the branches of the trees, which at the inner end overshadowed 
all the ground leaving only a broad open path in the middle. A little stream 




escaped from the springs above, and leaving the main water, fell tinkling 
down the sheer face of the wall, pouring in silver drops, like a fine 
curtain in front of the arched bay. The water was gathered again into a 
stone basin in the floor between the trees, and thence it spilled and flowed 
away beside the open path, out to rejoin the Entwash in its journey through 
the forest. 

'Hm! Here we are!' said Treebeard, breaking his long silence. 'I have 
brought you about seventy thousand ent-strides, but what that comes to in 
the measurement of your land I do not know. Anyhow we are near the roots of 
the Last Mountain. Part of the name of this place might be Wellinghall, if 
it were turned into your language. I like it. We will stay here tonight.' He 
set them down on the grass between the aisles of the trees, and they 
followed him towards the great arch. The hobbits now noticed that as he 
walked his knees hardly bent, but his legs opened in a great stride. He 
planted his big toes (and they were indeed big, and very broad) on the 
ground first, before any other part of his feet. 

For a moment Treebeard stood under the rain of the falling spring, and 
took a deep breath; then he laughed, and passed inside. A great stone table 
stood there, but no chairs. At the back of the bay it was already quite 
dark. Treebeard lifted two great vessels and stood them on the table. They 
seemed to be filled with water; but he held his hands over them, and 
immediately they began to glow, one with a golden and the other with a rich 
green light; and the blending of the two lights lit the bay; as if the sun 
of summer was shining through a roof of young leaves. Looking back, the 
hobbits saw that the trees in the court had also begun to glow, faintly at 
first, but steadily quickening, until every leaf was edged with light: some 
green, some gold, some red as copper; while the tree-trunks looked like 
pillars moulded out of luminous stone. 

'Well, well, now we can talk again,' said Treebeard. 'You are thirsty I 
expect. Perhaps you are also tired. Drink this!' He went to the back of the 
bay, and then they saw that several tall stone jars stood there, with heavy 
lids. He removed one of the lids, and dipped in a great ladle, and with it 
filled three bowls, one very large bowl, and two smaller ones. 

'This is an ent-house,' he said, 'and there are no seats, I fear. But 
you may sit on the table.' Picking up the hobbits he set them on the great 
stone slab, six feet above the ground, and there they sat dangling their 
legs, and drinking in sips. 




The drink was like water, indeed very like the taste of the draughts 
they had drunk from the Entwash near, the borders of the forest, and yet 
there was some scent or savour in it which they could not describe: it was 
faint, but it reminded them of the smell of a distant wood borne from afar 
by a cool breeze at night. The effect of the draught began at the toes, and 
rose steadily through every limb, bringing refreshment and vigour as it 
coursed upwards, right to the tips of the hair. Indeed the hobbits felt that 
the hair on their heads was actually standing up, waving and curling and 
growing. As for Treebeard, he first laved his feet in the basin beyond the 
arch, and then he drained his bowl at one draught, one long, slow draught. 
The hobbits thought he would never stop. 

At last he set the bowl down again. 'Ah — ah,' he sighed. 'Hm, hoom, 
now we can talk easier. You can sit on the floor, and I will lie down; that 
will prevent this drink from rising to my head and sending me to sleep.' 

On the right side of the bay there was a great bed on low legs; not 
more than a couple of feet high, covered deep in dried grass and bracken. 
Treebeard lowered himself slowly on to this (with only the slightest sign of 
bending at his middle), until he lay at full length, with his arms behind 
his head, looking up at the ceiling, upon which lights were flickering, like 
the play of leaves in the sunshine. Merry and Pippin sat beside him on 
pillows of grass. 

'Now tell me your tale, and do not hurry!' said Treebeard. 

The hobbits began to tell him the story of their adventures ever since 
they left Hobbiton. They followed no very clear order, for they interrupted 
one another continually, and Treebeard often stopped the speaker, and went 
back to some earlier point, or jumped forward asking questions about later 
events. They said nothing whatever about the Ring, and did not tell him why 
they set out or where they were going to; and he did not ask for any 
reasons. 

He was immensely interested in everything: in the Black Riders, in 
Elrond, and Rivendell, in the Old Forest, and Tom Bombadil, in the Mines of 
Moria, and in Lothlurien and Galadriel. He made them describe the Shire and 
its country over and over again. He said an odd thing at this point. 'You 
never see any, hm, any Ents round there do you?' he asked. 'Well, not Ents, 
Entwives I should really say.' 

EntwivesT said Pippin. 'Are they like you at all?' 

Yes, hm, well no: I do not really know now, said Treebeard 




thoughtfully. 'But they would like your country, so I just wondered.' 

Treebeard was however especially interested in everything that 
concerned Gandalf; and most interested of all in Saruman's doings. The 
hobbits regretted very much that they knew so little about them: only a 
rather vague report by Sam of what Gandalf had told the Council. But they 
were clear at any rate that UgKDk and his troop came from Isengard, and 
spoke of Saruman as their master. 

'Hm, hoom!' said Treebeard, when at last their story had wound and 
wandered down to the battle of the Ores and the Riders of Rohan. 'Well, 
well! That is a bundle of news and no mistake. You have not told me all, no 
indeed, not by a long way. But I do not doubt that you are doing as Gandalf 
would wish. There is something very big going on, that I can see, and what 
it is maybe I shall learn in good time, or in bad time. By root and twig, 
but it is a strange business: up sprout a little folk that are not in the 
old lists, and behold the Nine forgotten Riders reappear to hunt them, and 
Gandalf takes them on a great journey, and Galadriel harbours them in Caras 
Galadhon, and Ores pursue them down all the leagues of Wilderland: indeed 
they seem to be caught up in a great storm. I hope they weather it!' 

'And what about yourself?' asked Merry. 

'Hoom, hm, I have not troubled about the Great Wars,' said Treebeard; 
'they mostly concern Elves and Men. That is the business of Wizards: Wizards 
are always troubled about the future. I do not like worrying about the 
future. I am not altogether on anybody's side, because nobody is altogether 
on my side, if you understand me: nobody cares for the woods as I care for 
them, not even Elves nowadays. Still, I take more kindly to Elves than to 
others: it was the Elves that cured us of dumbness long ago, and that was a 
great gift that cannot be forgotten, though our ways have parted since. And 
there are some things, of course, whose side I am altogether not on; I am 
against them altogether: these — burbrum' (he again made a deep rumble of 
disgust)' — these Ores, and their masters. 

'I used to be anxious when the shadow lay on Mirkwood, but when it 
removed to Mordor, I did not trouble for a while: Mordor is a long way away. 
But it seems that the wind is setting East, and the withering of all woods 
may be drawing near. There is naught that an old Ent can do to hold back 
that storm: he must weather it or crack. 

'But Saruman now! Saruman is a neighbour: I cannot overlook him. I must 
do something. I suppose. I have often wondered lately what I should do about 




Saruman.' 

’Who is Saruman?' asked Pippin. 'Do you know anything about his 
history?' 'Saruman is a Wizard,' answered Treebeard. 'More than that I 
cannot say. I do not know the history of Wizards. They appeared first after 
the Great Ships came over the Sea; but if they came with the Ships I never 
can tell. Saruman was reckoned great among them. I believe. He gave up 
wandering about and minding the affairs of Men and Elves, some time ago — 
you would call it a very long time ago: and he settled down at Angrenost, or 
Isengard as the Men of Rohan call it. He was very quiet to begin with, but 
his fame began to grow. He was chosen to be head of the White Council, they 
say; but that did not turn out too well. I wonder now if even then Saruman 
was not turning to evil ways. But at any rate he used to give no trouble to 
his neighbours. I used to talk to him. There was a time when he was always 
walking about my woods. He was polite in those days, always asking my leave 
(at least when he met me); and always eager to listen. I told him many 
things that he would never have found out by himself; but he never repaid me 
in like kind. I cannot remember that he ever told, me anything. And he got 
more and more like that; his face, as I remember it-I have not seen it for 
many a day-became like windows in a stone wall: windows with shutters 
inside. 

'I think that I now understand what he is up to. He is plotting to 
become a Power. He has a mind of metal and wheels; and he does not care for 
growing things, except as far as they serve him for the moment. And now it 
is clear that he is a black traitor. He has taken up with foul folk, with 
the Ores. Brm, hoom! Worse than that: he has been doing something to them; 
something dangerous. For these Isengarders are more like wicked Men. It is a 
mark of evil things that came in the Great Darkness that they cannot abide 
the Sun; but Saruman's Ores can endure it, even if they hate it. I wonder 
what he has done? Are they Men he has ruined, or has he blended the races of 
Ores and Men? That would be a black evil!' 

Treebeard rumbled for a moment, as if he were pronouncing some deep, 
subterranean Entish malediction. 'Some time ago I began to wonder how Ores 
dared to pass through my woods so freely,' he went on. 'Only lately did I 
guess that Saruman was to blame, and that long ago he had been spying out 
all the ways, and discovering my secrets. He and his foul folk are making 
havoc now. Down on the borders they are felling trees-good trees. Some of 
the trees they just cut down and leave to rot — ore-mischief that; but most 




are hewn up and carried off to feed the fires of Orthanc. There is always a 
smoke rising from Isengard these days. 

'Curse him, root and branch! Many of those trees were my friends 
creatures I had known from nut and acorn; many had voices of their own that 
are lost for ever now. And there are wastes of stump and bramble where once 
there were singing groves. I have been idle. I have let things slip. It must 
stop!' 

Treebeard raised himself from his bed with a jerk, stood up, and 
thumped his hand on the table. The vessels of light trembled and sent up two 
jets of flame. There was a flicker like green fire in his eyes, and his 
beard stood out stiff as a great besom. 

'I will stop it!' he boomed. 'And you shall come with me. You may be 
able to help me. You will be helping your own friends that way, too; for if 
Saruman is not checked Rohan and Gondor will have an enemy behind as well 
as 

in front. Our roads go together — to Isengard!' 

'We will come with you,' said Merry. 'We will do what we can.' 

'Yes!' said Pippin. 'I should like to see the White Hand overthrown. I 
should like to be there, even if I could not be of much use: I shall never 
forget Ugl®k and the crossing of Rohan.' 

'Good! Good!' said Treebeard. 'But I spoke hastily. We must not be 
hasty. I have become too hot. I must cool myself and think; fur it is easier 
to shout stop\ than to do it.' 

He strode to the archway and stood for some time under the falling rain 
of the spring. Then he laughed and shook himself, and wherever the drops of 
water fell glittering from him to the ground they glinted like red and green 
sparks. He came back and laid himself on the bed again and was silent. 

After some time the hobbits heard him murmuring again. He seemed to be 
counting on his fingers. 'Fangorn, Finglas, Fladrif, aye, aye,' he sighed. 

'The trouble is that there are so few of us left,' he said turning towards 
the hobbits. 'Only three remain of the first Ents that walked in the woods 
before the Darkness: only myself, Fangorn, and Finglas and Fladrif — to 
give them their Elvish names; you may call them Leaflock and Skinbark if you 
like that better. And of us three Leaflock and Skinbark are not much use for 
this business. Leaflock has grown sleepy, almost tree-ish, you might say: he 
has taken to standing by himself half-asleep all through the summer with the 
deep grass of the meadows round his knees. Covered with leafy hair he is. He 




used to rouse up in winter; but of late he has been too drowsy to walk far 
even then. Skinbark lived on the mountain-slopes west of Isengard. That is 
where the worst trouble has been. He was wounded by the Ores, and many of 
his folk and his tree-herds have been murdered and destroyed. He has gone up 
into the high places, among the birches that he loves best, and he will not 
come down. Still, I daresay I could get together a fair company of our 
younger folks-if I could make them understand the need: if I could rouse 
them: we are not a hasty folk. What a pity there are so few of us!' 

'Why are there so few when you have lived in this country so long?' 
asked Pippin. 'Have a great many died?' 

'Oh, no!' said Treebeard. 'None have died from inside, as you might 
say. Some have fallen in the evil chances of the long years, of course: and 
more have grown tree-ish. But there were never many of us and we have not 
increased. There have been no Entings — no children, you would say, not for 
a terrible long count of years. You see, we lost the Entwives.' 

'How very sad!' said Pippin. 'How was it that they all died?' 

'They did not dieV said Treebeard. 'I never said died. We lost them, I 
said. We lost them and we cannot find them.' He sighed. 'I thought most folk 
knew that. There were songs about the hunt of the Ents for the Entwives sung 
among Elves and Men from Mirkwood to Gondor. They cannot be quite 
forgotten.' 

'Well, I am afraid the songs have not come west over the Mountains to 
the Shire,' said Merry. 'Won't you tell us some more, or sing us one of the 
songs?' 

'Yes, I will indeed,' said Treebeard, seeming pleased with the request. 

'But I cannot tell it properly, only in short; and then we must end our 
talk: tomorrow we have councils to call, and work to do, and maybe a journey 
to begin.' 

'It is rather a strange and sad story,' he went on after a pause. 'When 
the world was young, and the woods were wide and wild, the Ents and the 
Entwives — and there were Entmaidens then: ah! the loveliness of 
Fimbrethil, of Wandlimb the lightfooted, in the days of our youth! — they 
walked together and they housed together. But our hearts did not go on 
growing in the same way: the Ents gave their love to things that they met in 
the world, and the Entwives gave their thought to other things, for the Ents 
loved the great trees; and the wild woods, and the slopes of the high hills; 
and they drank of the mountain-streams, and ate only such fruit as the trees 




let fall in their path; and they learned of the Elves and spoke with the 
Trees. But the Entwives gave their minds to the lesser trees, and to the 
meads in the sunshine beyond the feet of the forests; and they saw the sloe 
in the thicket, and the wild apple and the cherry blossoming in spring, and 
the green herbs in the waterlands in summer, and the seeding grasses in the 
autumn fields. They did not desire to speak with these things; but they 
wished them to hear and obey what was said to them. The Entwives ordered 
them to grow according to their wishes, and bear leaf and fruit to their 
liking; for the Entwives desired order, and plenty, and peace (by which they 
meant that things should remain where they had set them). So the Entwives 
made gardens to live in. But we Ents went on wandering, and we only came to 
the gardens now and again. Then when the Darkness came in the North, the 
Entwives crossed the Great River, and made new gardens, and tilled new 
fields, and we saw them more seldom. After the Darkness was overthrown the 
land of the Entwives blossomed richly, and their fields were full of corn. 

Many men learned the crafts of the Entwives and honoured them greatly; but 
we were only a legend to them, a secret in the heart of the forest. Yet here 
we still are, while all the gardens of the Entwives are wasted: Men call 
them the Brown Lands now. 

'I remember it was long ago — in the time of the war between Sauron 
and the Men of the Sea — desire came over me to see Fimbrethil again. Very 
fair she was still in my eyes, when I had last seen her, though little like 
the Entmaiden of old. For the Entwives were bent and browned by their 
labour; their hair parched by the sun to the hue of ripe corn and their 
cheeks like redapples. Yet their eyes were still the eyes of our own 
people. We crossed over Anduin and came to their land: but we found a 
desert: it was all burned and uprooted, for war had passed over it. But the 
Entwives were not there. Long we called, and long we searched; and we asked 
all folk that we met which way the Entwives had gone. Some said they had 
never seen them; and some said that they had seen them walking away west, 
and some said east, and others south. But nowhere that we went could we find 
them. Our sorrow was very great. Yet the wild wood called, and we returned 
to it. For many years we used to go out every now and again and look for the 
Entwives. walking far and wide and calling them by their beautiful names. 
But as time passed we went more seldom and wandered less far. And now the 
Entwives are only a memory for us, and our beards are long and grey. The 
Elves made many songs concerning the Search of the Ents, and some of the 




songs passed into the tongues of Men. But we made no songs about it, being 
content to chant their beautiful names when we thought of the Entwives. We 
believe that we may meet again in a time to come, and perhaps we shall find 
somewhere a land where we can live together and both be content. But it is 
foreboded that that will only be when we have both lost all that we now 
have. And it may well be that that time is drawing near at last. For if 
Sauron of old destroyed the gardens, the Enemy today seems likely to wither 
all the woods. 

'There was an Elvish song that spoke of this, or at least so I 
understand it. It used to be sung up and down the Great River. It was never 
an Entish song, mark you: it would have been a very long song in Entish! But 
we know it by heart, and hum it now and again. This is how it runs in your 
tongue: 

ENT. 

When Spring unfolds the beechen leaf, and sap is in the bough; 

When light is on the wild-wood stream, and wind is on the brow; 

When stride is long, and breath is deep, and keen the mountain-air, 

Come back to me! Come back to me, and say my land is fair! 

entwife. 

When Spring is come to garth and field, and corn is in the blade; 

When blossom like a shining snow is on the orchard laid; 

When shower and Sun upon the Earth with fragrance fill the air, 

I'll linger here, and will not come, because my land is fair. 

ent. 

When Summer lies upon the world, and in a noon of gold 

Beneath the roof of sleeping leaves the dreams of trees unfold; 

When woodland halls are green and cool, and wind is in the West, 

Come back to me! Come back to me, and say my land is best! 

entwife. 

When Summer warms the hanging fruit and burns the berry brown; 

When straw is gold, and ear is white, and harvest comes to town; 

When honey spills, and apple swells, though wind be in the West, 

I'll linger here beneath the Sun, because my land is best! 




ent. 

When Winter comes, the winter wild that hill and wood shall slay; 

When trees shall fall and starless night devour the sunless day; 

When wind is in the deadly East, then in the bitter rain 

I'll look for thee, and call to thee; I'll come to thee again! 

entwife. 

When Winter comes, and singing ends; when darkness falls at last; 

When broken is the barren bough, and light and labour past; 

I'll look for thee, and wait for thee, until we meet again: 

Together we will take the road beneath the bitter rain! 

both. 

Together we will take the road that leads into the West, 

And far away will find a land where both our hearts may rest. ' 

Treebeard ended his song. 'That is how it goes,' he said. 'It is 
Elvish, of course: lighthearted, quickworded, and soon over. I daresay it is 
fair enough. But the Ents could say more on their side, if they had time ! 

But now I am going to stand up and take a little sleep. Where will you 
stand?' 

'We usually lie down to sleep,' said Merry. 'We shall be all right 
where we are.' 

'Lie down to sleep!' said Treebeard. 'Why of course you do! Hm, hoom: I 
was forgetting: singing that song put me in mind of old times; almost 
thought that I was talking to young Entings, I did. Well, you can lie on the 
bed. I am going to stand in the rain. Good night!' 

Merry and Pippin climbed on to the bed and curled up in the soft grass 
and fern. It was fresh, and sweet-scented, and warm. The lights died down, 
and the glow of the trees faded; but outside under the arch they could see 
old Treebeard standing, motionless, with his arms raised above his head. The 
bright stars peered out of the sky, and lit the falling water as it spilled 
on to his fingers and head, and dripped, dripped, in hundreds of silver 
drops on to his feet. Listening to the tinkling of the drops the hobbits 
fell asleep. 

They woke to find a cool sun shining into the great court, and on to 
the floor of the bay. Shreds of high cloud were overhead, running on a stiff 




easterly wind. Treebeard was not to be seen; but while Merry and Pippin were 
bathing in the basin by the arch, they heard him humming and singing, as he 
came up the path between the trees. 

'Hoo, ho! Good morning, Merry and Pippin!' he boomed, when he saw 
them. 

'You sleep long. I have been many a hundred strides already today. Now we 
will have a drink, and go to Entmoot.' 

He poured them out two full bowls from a stone jar; but from a 
different jar. The taste was not the same as it had been the night before: 
it was earthier and richer, more sustaining and food-like, so to speak. 

While the hobbits drank, sitting on the edge of the bed, and nibbling small 
pieces of elf-cake (more because they felt that eating was a necessary part 
of breakfast than because they felt hungry), Treebeard stood, humming in 
Entish or Elvish or some strange tongue, and looking up at the sky. 

'Where is Entmoot?' Pippin ventured to ask. 

'Hoo, eh? Entmoot?' said Treebeard, turning round. 'It is not a place, 
it is a gathering of Ents — which does not often happen nowadays. But I 
have managed to make a fair number promise to come. We shall meet in the 
place where we have always met: Derndingle Men call it. It is away south 
from here. We must be there before noon.' 

Before long they set off. Treebeard carried the hobbits in his arms as 
on the previous day. At the entrance to the court he turned to the right, 
stepped over the stream, and strode away southwards along the feet of great 
tumbled slopes where trees were scanty. Above these the hobbits saw thickets 
of birch and rowan, and beyond them dark climbing pinewoods. Soon 
Treebeard 

turned a little away from the hills and plunged into deep groves, where the 
trees were larger, taller, and thicker than any that the hobbits had ever 
seen before. For a while they felt faintly the sense of stifling which they 
had noticed when they first ventured into Fangorn, but it soon passed. 
Treebeard did not talk to them. He hummed to himself deeply and 
thoughtfully, but Merry and Pippin caught no proper words: it sounded like 
boom, boom, rumboom, boorar, boom, boom, dahrar boom boom, dahrar 
boom, and 

so on with a constant change of note and rhythm. Now and again they thought 
they heard an answer, a hum or a quiver of sound, that seemed to come out of 
the earth, or from boughs above their heads, or perhaps from the boles of 




the trees; but Treebeard did not stop or turn his head to either side. 

They had been going for a long while — Pippin had tried to keep count 
of the ’ent-strides' but had failed, getting lost at about three thousand — 
when Treebeard began to slacken his pace. Suddenly he stopped, put the 
hobbits down, and raised his curled hands to his mouth so that they made a 
hollow tube; then he blew or called through them. A great hoom, hom rang out 
like a deep-throated horn in the woods, and seemed to echo from the trees. 

Far off there came from several directions a similar hoom, hom, hoom that 
was not an echo but an answer. 

Treebeard now perched Merry and Pippin on his shoulders and strode on 
again, every now and then sending out another horn-call, and each time the 
answers came louder and nearer. In this way they came at last to what looked 
like an impenetrable wall of dark evergreen trees, trees of a kind that the 
hobbits had never seen before: they branched out right from the roots, and 
were densely clad in dark glossy leaves like thornless holly, and they bore 
many stiff upright flower-spikes with large shining olive-coloured buds. 

Turning to the left and skirting this huge hedge Treebeard came in a 
few strides to a narrow entrance. Through it a worn path passed and dived 
suddenly down a long steep slope. The hobbits saw that they were descending 
into a great dingle, almost as round as a bowl, very wide and deep, crowned 
at the rim with the high dark evergreen hedge. It was smooth and grassclad 
inside, and there were no trees except three very tall and beautiful 
silver -birches that stood at the bottom of the bowl. Two other paths led 
down into the dingle: from the west and from the east. 

Several Ents had already arrived. More were coming in down the other 
paths, and some were now following Treebeard. As they drew near the hobbits 
gazed at them. They had expected to see a number of creatures as much like 
Treebeard as one hobbit is like another (at any rate to a stranger's eye); 
and they were very much surprised to see nothing of the kind. The Ents were 
as different from one another as trees from trees: some as different as one 
tree is from another of the same name but quite different growth and 
history; and some as different as one tree-kind from another, as birch from 
beech; oak from fir. There were a few older Ents, bearded and gnarled like 
hale but ancient trees (though none looked as ancient as Treebeard); and 
there were tall strong Ents, clean-limbed and smooth-skinned like 
forest-trees in their prime; but there were no young Ents, no saplings. 
Altogether there were about two dozen standing on the wide grassy floor of 




the dingle, and as many more were marching in. 

At first Merry and Pippin were struck chiefly by the variety that they 
saw: the many shapes, and colours, the differences in girth; and height, and 
length of leg and arm; and in the number of toes and fingers (anything from 
three to nine). A few seemed more or less related to Treebeard, and reminded 
them of beech-trees or oaks. But there were other kinds. Some recalled the 
chestnut: brown-skinned Ents with large splayfingered hands, and short thick 
legs. Some recalled the ash: tall straight grey Ents with many-fingered 
hands and long legs; some the fir (the tallest Ents), and others the birch, 
the rowan, and the linden. But when the Ents all gathered round Treebeard, 
bowing their heads slightly, murmuring in their slow musical voices, and 
looking long and intently at the strangers, then the hobbits saw that they 
were all of the same kindred, and all had the same eyes: not all so old or 
so deep as Treebeard's, but all with the same slow, steady, thoughtful 
expression, and the same green flicker. 

As soon as the whole company was assembled, standing in a wide circle 
round Treebeard, a curious and unintelligible conversation began. The Ents 
began to murmur slowly: first one joined and then another, until they were 
all chanting together in a long rising and falling rhythm, now louder on one 
side of the ring, now dying away there and rising to a great boom on the 
other side. Though he could not catch or understand any of the words — he 
supposed the language was Entish — Pippin found the sound very pleasant to 
listen to at first; but gradually his attention wavered. After a long time 
(and the chant showed no signs of slackening) he found himself wondering, 
since Entish was such an ’unhasty' language, whether they had yet got 
further than Good Morning ; and if Treebeard was to call the roll, how many 
days it would take to sing all their names. 'I wonder what the Entish is for 
yes or no,' he thought. He yawned. 

Treebeard was immediately aware of him. 'Hm, ha, hey, my Pippin!' he 
said, and the other Ents all stopped their chant. 'You are a hasty folk, I 
was forgetting; and anyway it is wearisome listening to a speech you do not 
understand. You may get down now. I have told your names to the Entmoot, 
and 

they have seen you, and they have agreed that you are not Ores, and that a 
new line shall be put in the old lists. We have got no further yet, but that 
is quick work for an Entmoot. You and Merry can stroll about in the dingle, 
if you like. There is a well of good water, if you need refreshing, away 




yonder in the north bank. There are still some words to speak before the 
Moot really begins. I will come and see you again, and tell you how things 
are going.' 

He put the hobbits down. Before they walked away, they bowed low. This 
feat seemed to amuse the Ents very much, to judge by the tone of their 
murmurs, and the flicker of their eyes; but they soon turned back to their 
own business. Merry and Pippin climbed up the path that came in from the 
west, and looked through the opening in the great hedge. Long tree-clad 
slopes rose from the lip of the dingle, and away beyond them, above the 
fir-trees of the furthest ridge there rose, sharp and white, the peak of a 
high mountain. Southwards to their left they could see the forest falling 
away down into the grey distance. There far away there was a pale green 
glimmer that Merry guessed to be a glimpse of the plains of Rohan. 

'I wonder where Isengard is?' said Pippin. 

'I don’t know quite where we are,' said Merry; 'but that peak is 
probably Methedras. and as far as I can remember the ring of Isengard lies 
in a fork or deep cleft at the end of the mountains. It is probably down 
behind this great ridge. There seems to be a smoke or haze over there, left 
of the peak, don't you think?' 

'What is Isengard like?' said Pippin. 'I wonder what Ents can do about 
it anyway.' 'So do I,' said Merry. 'Isengard is a sort of ring of rocks or 
hills, I think, with a flat space inside and an island or pillar of rock in 
the middle, called Orthanc. Saruman has a tower on it. There is a gate, 
perhaps more than one, in the encircling wall, and I believe there is a 
stream running through it; it comes out of the mountains, and flows on 
across the Gap of Rohan. It does not seem the sort of place for Ents to 
tackle. But I have an odd feeling about these Ents: somehow I don't think 
they are quite as safe and, well funny as they seem. They seem slow, queer, 
and patient, almost sad; and yet I believe they could be roused. If that 
happened, I would rather not be on the other side.' 

'Yes!' said Pippin. 'I know what you mean. There might be all the 
difference between an old cow sitting and thoughtfully chewing, and a bull 
charging; and the change might come suddenly. I wonder if Treebeard will 
rouse them. I am sure he means to try. But they don't like being roused. 
Treebeard got roused himself last night, and then bottled it up again.' 

The hobbits turned back. The voices of the Ents were still rising and 
falling in their conclave. The sun had now risen high enough to look over 




the high hedge: it gleamed on the tops of the birches and lit the northward 
side of the dingle with a cool yellow light. There they saw a little 
glittering fountain. They walked along the rim of the great bowl at the feet 
of the evergreens-it was pleasant to feel cool grass about their toes again, 
and not to be in a hurry-and then they climbed down to the gushing water. 
They drank a little, a clean, cold, sharp draught, and sat down on a mossy 
stone, watching the patches of sun on the grass and the shadows of the 
sailing clouds passing over the floor of the dingle. The murmur of the Ents 
went on. It seemed a very strange and remote place, outside their world, and 
far from everything that had ever happened to them. A great longing came 
over them for the faces and voices of their companions, especially for Frodo 
and Sam, and for Strider. 

At last there came a pause in the Ent -voices; and looking up they saw 
Treebeard coming towards them, with another Ent at his side. 

'Hm, hoom, here I am again,' said Treebeard. 'Are you getting weary, or 
feeling impatient, hmm, eh? Well, I am afraid that you must not get 
impatient yet. We have finished the first stage now; but I have still got to 
explain things again to those that live a long way off, far from Isengard, 
and those that I could not get round to before the Moot, and after that we 
shall have to decide what to do. However, deciding what to do does not take 
Ents so long as going over all the facts and events that they have to make 
up their minds about. Still, it is no use denying, we shall be here a long 
time yet: a couple of days very likely. So I have brought you a companion. 

He has an ent-house nearby. Bregalad is his Elvish name. He says he has 
already made up his mind and does not need to remain at the Moot. Hm, hm, he 
is the nearest thing among us to a hasty Ent. You ought to get on together. 
Good-bye!' Treebeard turned and left them. 

Bregalad stood for some time surveying the hobbits solemnly; and they 
looked at him, wondering when he would show any signs of 'hastiness'. He was 
tall, and seemed to be one of the younger Ents; he had smooth shining skin 
on his arms and legs; his lips were ruddy, and his hair was grey-green. He 
could bend and sway like a slender tree in the wind. At last he spoke, and 
his voice though resonant was higher and clearer than Treebeard's. 

'Ha, hmm, my friends, let us go for a walk!' he said. 'I am Bregalad, 
that is Quickbeam in your language. But it is only a nickname, of course. 

They have called me that ever since I said yes to an elder Ent before he had 
finished his question. Also I drink quickly, and go out while some are still 




wetting their beards. Come with me!' 

He reached down two shapely arms and gave a long -fingered hand to each 
of the hobbits. All that day they walked about in the woods with him, 
singing, and laughing; for Quickbeam often laughed. He laughed if the sun 
came out from behind a cloud, he laughed if they came upon a stream or 
spring: then he stooped and splashed his feet and head with water; he 
laughed sometimes at some sound or whisper in the trees. Whenever he saw a 
rowan-tree he halted a while with his arms stretched out, and sang, and 
swayed as he sang. 

At nightfall he brought them to his ent -house: nothing more than a 
mossy stone set upon turves under a green bank. Rowan-trees grew in a circle 
about it, and there was water (as in all ent -houses), a spring bubbling out 
from the bank. They talked for a while as darkness fell on the forest. Not 
far away the voices of the Entmoot could be heard still going on; but now 
they seemed deeper and less leisurely, and every now and again one great 
voice would rise in a high and quickening music, while all the others died 
away. But beside them Bregalad spoke gently in their own tongue, almost 
whispering; and they learned that he belonged to Skinbark's people, and the 
country where they had lived had been ravaged. That seemed to the hobbits 
quite enough to explain his ’hastiness', at least in the matter of Ores. 

'There were rowan-trees in my home,' said Bregalad, softly and sadly, 
'rowan-trees that took root when I was an Enting, many many years ago in the 
quiet of the world. The oldest were planted by the Ents to try and please 
the Entwives; but they looked at them and smiled and said that they knew 
where whiter blossom and richer fruit were growing. Yet there are no trees 
of all that race, the people of the Rose, that are so beautiful to me. And 
these trees grew and grew, till the shadow of each was like a green hall, 
and their red berries in the autumn were a burden, and a beauty and a 
wonder. Birds used to flock there. I like birds, even when they chatter; and 
the rowan has enough and to spare. But the birds became unfriendly and 
greedy and tore at the trees, and threw the fruit down and did not eat it. 

Then Ores came with axes and cut down my trees. I came and called them by 
their long names, but they did not quiver, they did not hear or answer: they 
lay dead. 

O Orofarnl, Lassemista, Carnimnril! 

O rowan fair, upon your hair how white the blossom lay ! 

O rowan mine, I saw you shine upon a summer's day, 




Your rind so bright, your leaves so light, your voice so cool and soft: 

Upon your head how golden-red the crown you bore aloft! 

O rowan dead, upon your head your hair is dry and grey; 

Your crown is spilled, your voice is stilled for ever and a day. 

O Orofarnl, Lassemista, Carnimnril! 

The hobbits fell asleep to the sound of the soft singing of Bregalad, 
that seemed to lament in many tongues the fall of trees that he had loved. 

The next day they spent also in his company, but they did not go far 
from his 'house'. Most of the time they sat silent under the shelter of the 
bank; for the wind was colder, and the clouds closer and greyer; there was 
little sunshine, and in the distance the voices of the Ents at the Moot 
still rose and fell, sometimes loud and strong, sometimes low and sad, 
sometimes quickening, sometimes slow and solemn as a dirge. A second night 
came and still the Ents held conclave under hurrying clouds and fitful 
stars. 

The third day broke, bleak and windy. At sunrise the Ents' voices rose 
to a great clamour and then died down again. As the morning wore on the wind 
fell and the air grew heavy with expectancy. The hobbits could see that 
Bregalad was now listening intently, although to them, down in the dell of 
his ent -house, the sound of the Moot was faint. 

The afternoon came, and the sun, going west towards the mountains, sent 
out long yellow beams between the cracks and fissures of the clouds. 
Suddenly they were aware that everything was very quiet; the whole forest 
stood in listening silence. Of course, the Ent- voices had stopped. What did 
that mean? Bregalad was standing up erect and tense, looking back northwards 
towards Derndingle. 

Then with a crash came a great ringing shout: ra-hoom-rah! The trees 
quivered and bent as if a gust had struck them. There was another pause, and 
then a marching music began like solemn drums, and above the rolling beats 
and booms there welled voices singing high and strong. 

We come, we come with roll of drum: ta-runda runda runda rom! 

The Ents were coming: ever nearer and louder rose their song: 

We come, we come with horn and drum: ta-ryna ryna ryna rom! 

Bregalad picked up the hobbits and strode from his house. 

Before long they saw the marching line approaching: the Ents were 
swinging along with great strides down the slope towards them. Treebeard was 
at their head, and some fifty followers were behind him, two abreast, 




keeping step with their feet and beating time with their hands upon their 
flanks. As they drew near the flash and flicker of their eyes could be seen. 

'Hoom, hom! Here we come with a boom, here we come at last!' called 
Treebeard when he caught sight of Bregalad and the hobbits. ’Come, join the 
Moot! We are off. We are off to Isengard!' 

To Isengard!' the Ents cried in many voices. 

'To Isengard!' 

To Isengard! Though Isengard be ringed and barred with doors of stone; 

Though Isengard be strong and hard, as cold as stone and bare as bone, 

We go, we go, we go to war, to hew the stone and break the door; 

For bole and bough are burning now, the furnace roars — we go to war! 

To land of gloom with tramp of doom, with roll of drum, we come, we 
come; 

To Isengard with doom we come! 

With doom we come, with doom we come! 

So they sang as they marched southwards. 

Bregalad, his eyes shining, swung into the line beside Treebeard. The 
old Ent now took the hobbits back, and set them on his shoulders again, and 
so they rode proudly at the head of the sin ng company with beating hearts 
and heads held high. Though they ad expected something to happen eventually, 
they were amazed at the change that had come over the Ents. It seemed now as 
sudden as the bursting of a flood that had long been held back by a dike. 

'The Ents made up their minds rather quickly, after all, didn't they?' 

Pippin ventured to say after some time, when for a moment the singing 
paused, and only the beating of hands and feet was heard. 

'Quickly?' said Treebeard. 'Hoom! Yes, indeed. Quicker than I expected. 
Indeed I have not seen them roused like this for many an age. We Ents do not 
like being roused; and we never are roused unless it is clear to us that our 
trees and our lives are in great danger. That has not happened in this 
Forest since the wars of Sauron and the Men of the Sea. It is the ore-work, 
the wanton hewing — rbrum — without even the bad excuse of feeding the 
fires, that has so angered us; and the treachery of a neighbour, who should 
have helped us. Wizards ought to know better: they do know better. There is 
no curse in Elvish, Entish, or the tongues of Men bad enough for such 
treachery. Down with Saruman!' 

'Will you really break the doors of Isengard?' asked Merry. 

'Ho, hm, well, we could, you know! You do not know, perhaps, how strong 




we are. Maybe you have heard of Trolls? They are mighty strong. But Trolls 
are only counterfeits, made by the Enemy in the Great Darkness, in mockery 
of Ents, as Ores were of Elves. We are stronger than Trolls. We are made of 
the bones of the earth. We can split stone like the roots of trees, only 
quicker, far quicker, if our minds are roused! If we are not hewn down, or 
destroyed by fire or blast of sorcery, we could split Isengard into 
splinters and crack its walls into rubble.' 

'But Saruman will try to stop you. won't he?' 

'Hm, ah, yes, that is so. I have not forgotten it. Indeed I have 
thought long about it. But. you see, many of the Ents are younger than I am. 
by many lives of trees. They are all roused now. and their mind is all on 
one thing: breaking Isengard. But they will start thinking again before 
long; they will cool down a little, when we take our evening drink. What a 
thirst we shall have! But let them march now and sing! We have a long way to 
go, and there is time ahead for thought. It is something to have started.' 

Treebeard marched on, singing with the others for a while. But after a 
time his voice died to a murmur and fell silent again. Pippin could see that 
his old brow was wrinkled and knotted. At last he looked up, and Pippin 
could see a sad look in his eyes, sad but not unhappy. There was a light in 
them, as if the green flame had sunk deeper into the dark wells of his 
thought. 

'Of course, it is likely enough, my friends,' he said slowly, 'likely 
enough that we are going to our doom: the last march of the Ents. But if we 
stayed at home and did nothing, doom would find us anyway, sooner or later. 
That thought has long been growing in our hearts; and that is why we are 
marching now. It was not a hasty resolve. Now at least the last march of the 
Ents may be worth a song. Aye,' he sighed, 'we may help the other peoples 
before we pass away. Still, I should have liked to see the songs come true 
about the Entwives. I should dearly have liked to see Fimbrethil again. But 
there, my friends, songs like trees bear fruit only in their own time and 
their own way: and sometimes they are withered untimely.' 

The Ents went striding on at a great pace. They had descended into a 
long fold of the land that fell away southward; now they began to climb up, 
and up, on to the high western ridge. The woods fell away and they came to 
scattered groups of birch, and then to bare slopes where only a few gaunt 
pine-trees grew. The sun sank behind the dark hill-back in front. Grey dusk 
fell. 




Pippin looked behind. The number of the Ents had grown — or what was 
happening? Where the dim bare slopes that they had crossed should lie, he 
thought he saw groves of trees. But they were moving! Could it be that the 
trees of Fangorn were awake, and the forest was rising, marching over the 
hills to war? He rubbed his eyes wondering if sleep and shadow had deceived 
him; but the great grey shapes moved steadily onward. There was a noise like 
wind in many branches. The Ents were drawing near the crest of the ridge 
now, and all song had ceased. Night fell, and there was silence: nothing was 
to be heard save a faint quiver of the earth beneath the feet of the Ents, 
and a rustle, the shade of a whisper as of many drifting leaves. At last 
they stood upon the summit, and looked down into a dark pit: the great cleft 
at the end of the mountains: Nan Curunnr, the Valley of Saruman. 

'Night lies over Isengard,' said Treebeard. 




Chapter 5 . The White Rider 



'My very bones are chilled,' said Gimli, flapping his arms and stamping 
his feet. Day had come at last. At dawn the companions had made such 
breakfast as they could; now in the growing light they were getting ready to 
search the ground again for signs of the hobbits. 

'And do not forget that old man!' said Gimli. 'I should be happier if I 
could see the print of a boot.' 

'Why would that make you happy?' said Legolas. 

'Because an old man with feet that leave marks might be no more than he 
seemed,' answered the Dwarf. 

'Maybe,' said the Elf; 'but a heavy boot might leave no print here: the 
grass is deep and springy.' 

'That would not baffle a Ranger,' said Gimli. 'A bent blade is enough 
for Aragorn to read. But I do not expect him to find any traces. It was an 
evil phantom of Saruman that we saw last night. I am sure of it, even under 
the light of morning. His eyes are looking out on us from Fangorn even now, 
maybe.' 

'It is likely enough,' said Aragorn; 'yet I am not sure. I am thinking 
of the horses. You said last night, Gimli, that they were scared away. But I 
did not think so. Did you hear them, Legolas? Did they sound to you like 
beasts in terror?' 

'No,' said Legolas. 'I heard them clearly. But for the darkness and our 
own fear I should have guessed that they were beasts wild with some sudden 
gladness. They spoke as horses will when they meet a friend that they have 
long missed.' 

'So I thought,' said Aragorn; 'but I cannot read the riddle, unless 
they return. Come! The light is growing fast. Let us look first and guess 
later! We should begin here, near to our own camping-ground, searching 
carefully all about, and working up the slope towards the forest. To find 
the hobbits is our errand, whatever we may think of our visitor in the 
night. If they escaped by some chance, then they must have hidden in the 
trees, or they would have been seen. If we find nothing between here and the 
eaves of the wood, then we will make a last search upon the battle-field and 
among the ashes. But there is little hope there: the horsemen of Rohan did 




their work too well.' 

For some time the companions crawled and groped upon the ground. The 
tree stood mournfully above them, its dry leaves now hanging limp, and 
rattling in the chill easterly wind. Aragorn moved slowly away. He came to 
the ashes of the watch-fire near the river -bank, and then began to retrace 
the ground back towards the knoll where the battle had been fought. Suddenly 
he stooped and bent low with his face almost in the grass. Then he called to 
the others. They came running up. 

'Here at last we find news!' said Aragorn. He lifted up a broken leaf 
for them to see, a large pale leaf of golden hue, now fading and turning 
brown. 'Here is a mallorn-leaf of Lurien, and there are small crumbs on it, 
and a few more crumbs in the grass. And see! there are some pieces of cut 
cord lying nearby!' 

'And here is the knife that cut them!' said Gimli. He stooped and drew 
out of a tussock, into which some heavy foot had trampled it, a short jagged 
blade. The haft from which it had been snapped was beside it. 'It was an 
ore-weapon,' he said, holding it gingerly, and looking with disgust at the 
carved handle: it had been shaped like a hideous head with squinting eyes 
and leering mouth. 

'Well, here is the strangest riddle that we have yet found!' exclaimed 
Legolas. 'A bound prisoner escapes both from the Ores and from the 
surrounding horsemen. He then stops, while still in the open, and cuts his 
bonds with an ore-knife. But how and why? For if his legs were tied, how did 
he walk? And if his arms were tied, how did he use the knife? And if neither 
were tied, why did he cut the cords at all? Being pleased with his skill, he 
then sat down and quietly ate some waybread! That at least is enough to show 
that he was a hobbit, without the mallorn-leaf. After that, I suppose, he 
turned his arms into wings and flew away singing into the trees. It should 
be easy to find him: we only need wings ourselves!' 

'There was sorcery here right enough,' said Gimli. 'What was that old 
man doing? What have you to say, Aragorn, to the reading of Legolas. Can you 
better it?' 

'Maybe, I could,' said Aragorn, smiling. 'There are some other signs 
near at hand that you have not considered. I agree that the prisoner was a 
hobbit and must have had either legs or hands free, before he came here. I 
guess that it was hands, because the riddle then becomes easier, and also 
because, as I read the marks, he was carried to this point by an Ore. Blood 




was spilled there, a few paces away, ore-blood. There are deep prints of 
hoofs all about this spot, and signs that a heavy thing was dragged away. 

The Ore was slain by horsemen, and later his body was hauled to the fire. 

But the hobbit was not seen: he was not "in the open", for it was night and 
he still had his elven-cloak. He was exhausted and hungry, and it is not to 
be wondered at that, when he had cut his bonds with the knife of his fallen 
enemy, he rested and ate a little before he crept away. But it is a comfort 
to know that he had some lembas in his pocket, even though he ran away 
without gear or pack; that, perhaps, is like a hobbit. I say he, though I 
hope and guess that both Merry and Pippin were here together. There is, 
however, nothing to show that for certain.' 

'And how do you suppose that either of our friends came to have a hand 
free?' asked Gimli. 

'I do not know how it happened,' answered Aragorn. 'Nor do I know why 
an Ore was carrying them away. Not to help them to escape, we may be sure. 
Nay, rather I think that I now begin to understand a matter that has puzzled 
me from the beginning: why when Boromir had fallen were the Ores content 
with the capture of Merry and Pippin? They did not seek out the rest of us, 
nor attack our camp; but instead they went with all speed towards Isengard. 

Did they suppose they had captured the Ring -bearer and his faithful comrade? 

I think not. Their masters would not dare to give such plain orders to Ores, 
even if they knew so much themselves; they would not speak openly to them of 
the Ring: they are not trusty servants. But I think the Ores had been 
commanded to capture hobbits, alive, at all costs. An attempt was made to 
slip out with the precious prisoners before the battle. Treachery perhaps, 
likely enough with such folk; some large and bold Ore may have been trying 
to escape with the prize alone, for his own ends. There, that is my tale. 

Others might be devised. But on this we may count in any case: one at least 
of our friends escaped. It is our task to find him and help him before we 
return to Rohan. We must not be daunted by Fangorn, since need drove him 
into that dark place.' 

'I do not know which daunts me more: Fangorn, or the thought of the 
long road through Rohan on foot,' said Gimli. 

'Then let us go to the forest,' said Aragorn. 

It was not long before Aragorn found fresh signs. At one point, near 
the bank of the Entwash, he came upon footprints: hobbit-prints, but too 
light for much to be made of them. Then again beneath the bole of a great 




tree on the very edge of the wood more prints were discovered. The earth was 
bare and dry, and did not reveal much. 

'One hobbit at least stood here for a while and looked back; and then 
he turned away into the forest,' said Aragorn. 

'Then we must go in, too,' said Gimli. 'But I do not like the look of 
this Fangorn: and we were warned against it. I wish the chase had led 
anywhere else!' 

'I do not think the wood feels evil, whatever tales may say,' said 
Legolas. He stood under the eaves of the forest, stooping forward, as if he 
were listening, and peering with wide eyes into the shadows. 'No, it is not 
evil; or what evil is in it is far away. I catch only the faintest echoes of 
dark places where the hearts of the trees are black. There is no malice near 
us; but there is watchfulness, and anger.' 

'Well, it has no cause to be angry with me,' said Gimli. 'I have done 
it no harm. ' 

'That is just as well,' said Legolas. 'But nonetheless it has suffered 
harm. There is something happening inside, or going to happen. Do you not 
feel the tenseness? It takes my breath.' 

'I feel the air is stuffy,' said the Dwarf. 'This wood is lighter than 
Mirkwood, but it is musty and shabby.' 

'It is old, very old,' said the Elf. 'So old that almost I feel young 
again, as I have not felt since I journeyed with you children. It is old and 
full of memory. I could have been happy here, if I had come in days of 
peace.' 

'I dare say you could,' snorted Gimli. 'You are a Wood-elf, anyway, 
though Elves of any kind are strange folk. Yet you comfort me. Where you go, 
I will go. But keep your bow ready to hand, and I will keep my axe loose in 
my belt. Not for use on trees,' he added hastily, looking up at the tree 
under which they stood. 'I do not wish to meet that old man at unawares 
without an argument ready to hand, that is all. Let us go!' 

With that the three hunters plunged into the forest of Fangorn. Legolas 
and Gimli left the tracking to Aragorn. There was little for him to see. The 
floor of the forest was dry and covered with a drift of leaves; but guessing 
that the fugitives would stay near the water, he returned often to the banks 
of the stream. So it was that he came upon the place where Merry and Pippin 
had drunk and bathed their feet. There plain for all to see were the 
footprints of two hobbits, one somewhat smaller than the other. 




This is good tidings,' said Aragorn. 'Yet the marks are two days old 
And it seems that at this point the hobbits left the water -side.’ 

Then what shall we do now?’ said Gimli. 'We cannot pursue them through 
the whole fastness of Fangorn. We have come ill supplied. If we do not find 
them soon, we shall be of no use to them, except to sit down beside them and 
show our friendship by starving together.' 

'If that is indeed all we can do, then we must do that,' said Aragorn. 

'Let us go on.' 

They came at length to the steep abrupt end of Treebeard's Hill and 
looked up at the rock -wall with its rough steps leading to the high shelf. 
Gleams of sun were striking through the hurrying clouds, and the forest now 
looked less grey and drear. 

'Let us go up and look about us!' said Legolas. 'I will feel my breath 
short. I should like to taste a freer air for a while.' 

The companions climbed up. Aragorn came last, moving slowly: he was 
scanning the steps and ledges closely. 

'I am almost sure that the hobbits have been up here,' he said. 'But 
there are other marks, very strange marks, which I do not understand. I 
wonder if we can see anything from this ledge which will help us to guess 
which way they went next?' 

He stood up and looked about, but he saw nothing that was of any use. 
The shelf faced southward and eastward; but only on the east was the view 
open. There he could see the heads of the trees 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 old man 
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 over-shadowed, 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!' said 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 be doing, 
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 
sound, a strange cold thrill; and yet it was not fear or terror that he 
felt: rather it was like the sudden bite of a keen air, or the slap of a 
cold rain that wakes an uneasy sleeper. 

'My name!' said the old man again. 'Have you not guessed it already? 

You have heard it before, I think. Yes, you have heard it before. But come 
now, what of your tale?' 

The three companions stood silent and made no answer. 

'There are some who would begin to doubt whether your errand is fit to 
tell,' said the old man. 'Happily I know something of it. You are tracking 
the footsteps of two young hobbits, I believe. Yes, hobbits. Don't stare, as 
if you had never heard the strange name before. You have, and so have I. 
Well, they climbed up here the day before yesterday; and they met someone 
that they did not expect. Does that comfort you? And now you would like to 
know where they were taken? Well, well, maybe I can give you some news 
about 




that. But why are we standing? Your errand, you see, is no longer as urgent 
as you thought. Let us sit down and be more at ease.' 

The old man turned away and went towards a heap of fallen stones and 
rock at the foot of the cliff behind. Immediately, as if a spell had been 
removed, the others relaxed and stirred. Gimli's hand went at once to his 
axe-haft. Aragorn drew his sword. Legolas picked up his bow. 

The old man took no notice, but stooped and sat himself on a low flat 
stone. Then his grey cloak drew apart, and they saw, beyond doubt, that he 
was clothed beneath all in white. 

'Saruman!' cried Gimli, springing towards him with axe in hand, 'speak! 
Tell us where you have hidden our friends ! What have you done with them? 
Speak, or I will make a dint in your hat that even a wizard will find it 
hard to deal with!' 

The old man was too quick for him. He sprang to his feet and leaped to 
the top of a large rock. There he stood, grown suddenly tall, towering above 
them. His hood and his grey rags were flung away. His white garments shone. 
He lifted up his staff, and Gimli's axe leaped from his grasp and fell 
ringing on the ground. The sword of Aragorn, stiff in his motionless hand, 
blazed with a sudden fire. Legolas gave a great shout and shot an arrow high 
into the air: it vanished in a flash of flame. 

'Mithrandir!' he cried. 'Mithrandir!' 

'Well met, I say to you again. Legolas!' said the old man. 

They all gazed at him. His hair was white as snow in the sunshine; and 
gleaming white was his robe; the eyes under his deep brows were bright, 
piercing as the rays of the sun; power was in his hand. Between wonder, joy, 
and fear they stood and found no words to say. 

At last Aragorn stirred. 'Gandalf!' he said. 'Beyond all hope you 
return to us in our need! What veil was over my sight? Gandalf!' Gimli said 
nothing, hut sank to his knees, shading his eyes. 

'Gandalf,' the old man repeated, as if recalling from old memory a long 
disused word. 'Yes, that was the name. I was Gandalf.' 

He stepped down from the rock, and picking up his grey cloak wrapped it 
about him: it seemed as if the sun had been shining, but now was hid in 
cloud again. 'Yes, you may still call me Gandalf,' he said, and the voice 
was the voice of their old friend and guide. 'Get up, my good Gimli! No 
blame to you, and no harm done to me. Indeed my friends, none of you have 
any weapon that could hurt me. Be merry! We meet again. At the turn of the 




tide. The great storm is coming, but the tide has turned.' 

He laid his hand on Gimli’s head, and the Dwarf looked up and laughed 
suddenly. 'Gandalf!' he said. 'But you are all in white!' 

'Yes, I am white now,' said Gandalf. 'Indeed I am Saruman, one might 
almost say, Saruman as he should have been. But come now, tell me of 
yourselves! I have passed through fire and deepwater, since we parted. I 
have forgotten much that I thought I knew, and learned again much that I had 
forgotten. I can see many things far off, but many things that are close at 
hand I cannot see. Tell me of yourselves!' 

'What do you wish to know?' said Aragorn. 'All that has happened since 
we parted on the bridge would be a long tale. Will you not first give us 
news of the hobbits? Did you find them, and are they safe?' 

'No, I did not find them,' said Gandalf. 'There was a darkness over the 
valleys of the Emyn Muil, and I did not know of their captivity, until the 
eagle told me.' 

'The eagle!' said Legolas. 'I have seen an eagle high and far off: the 
last time was three days ago, above the Emyn Muil.' 

'Yes,' said Gandalf, 'that was Gwaihir the Windlord, who rescued me 
from Orthanc. I sent him before me to watch the River and gather tidings. 

His sight is keen, but he cannot see all that passes under hill and tree. 

Some things he has seen, and others I have seen myself. The Ring now has 
passed beyond my help, or the help of any of the Company that set out from 
Rivendell. Very nearly it was revealed to the Enemy, but it escaped. I had 
some part in that: for I sat in a high place, and I strove with the Dark 
Tower; and the Shadow passed. Then I was weary, very weary; and I walked 
long in dark thought.' 

'Then you know about Frodo!' said Gimli. 'How do things go with him?' 

'I cannot say. He was saved from a great peril, but many lie before him 
still. He resolved to go alone to Mordor, and he set out: that is all that I 
can say.' 

'Not alone,' said Legolas. 'We think that Sam went with him.' 

'Did he!' said Gandalf, and there was a gleam in his eye and a smile on 
his face. 'Did he indeed? It is news to me, yet it does not surprise me. 

Good! Very good! You lighten my heart. You must tell me more. Now sit by 
me 

and tell me the tale of your journey.' 

The companions sat on the ground at his feet, and Aragorn took up the 




tale. For a long while Gandalf said nothing, and he asked no questions. His 
hands were spread upon his knees, and his eyes were closed. At last when 
Aragorn spoke of the death of Boromir and of his last journey upon the Great 
River, the old man sighed. 

'You have not said all that you know or guess, Aragorn my friend,' he 
said quietly. 'Poor Boromir! I could not see what happened to him. It was a 
sore trial for such a man: a warrior, and a lord of men. Galadriel told me 
that he was in peril. But he escaped in the end. I am glad. It was not in 
vain that the young hobbits came with us, if only for Boromir's sake. But 
that is not the only part they have to play. They were brought to Fangorn, 
and their coming was like the falling of small stones that starts an 
avalanche in the mountains. Even as we talk here, I hear the first 
rumblings. Saruman had best not be caught away from home when the dam 
bursts!' 

'In one thing you have not changed, dear friend,' said Aragorn: 'you 
still speak in riddles.' 

'What? In riddles?' said Gandalf. 'No! For I was talking aloud to 
myself. A habit of the old: they choose the wisest person present to speak 
to; the long explanations needed by the young are wearying.' He laughed, but 
the sound now seemed warm and kindly as a gleam of sunshine. 

'I am no longer young even in the reckoning of Men of the Ancient 
Houses,' said Aragorn. 'Will you not open your mind more clearly to me?' 

'What then shall I say?' said Gandalf, and paused for a while in 
thought. 'This in brief is how I see things at the moment, if you wish to 
have a piece of my mind as plain as possible. The Enemy, of course, has long 
known that the Ring is abroad, and that it is borne by a hobbit. He knows 
now the number of our Company that set out from Rivendell, and the kind of 
each of us. But he does not yet perceive our purpose clearly. He supposes 
that we were all going to Minas Tirith; for that is what he would himself 
have done in our place. And according to his wisdom it would have been a 
heavy stroke against his power. Indeed he is in great fear, not knowing what 
mighty one may suddenly appear, wielding the Ring, and assailing him with 
war, seeking to cast him down and take his place. That we should wish to 
cast him down and have no one in his place is not a thought that occurs to 
his mind. That we should try to destroy the Ring itself has not yet entered 
into his darkest dream. In which no doubt you will see our good fortune and 
our hope. For imagining war he has let loose war, believing that he has no 




time to waste; for he that strikes the first blow, if he strikes it hard 
enough, may need to strike no more. So the forces that he has long been 
preparing he is now setting in motion, sooner than he intended. Wise fool. 

For if he had used all his power to guard Mordor, so that none could enter, 
and bent all his guild to the hunting of the Ring, then indeed hope would 
have faded: neither Ring nor Bearer could long have eluded him. But now his 
eye gazes abroad rather than near at home; and mostly he looks towards Minas 
Tirith. Very soon now his strength will fall upon it like a storm. 

’For already he knows that the messengers that he sent to waylay the 
Company have failed again. They have not found the Ring. Neither have they 
brought away any hobbits as hostages. Flad they done even so much as that, it 
would have been a heavy blow to us, and it might have been fatal. But let us 
not darken our hearts by imagining the trial of their gentle loyalty in the 
Dark Tower. For the Enemy has failed-so far. Thanks to Saruman:' 

'Then is not Saruman a traitor?' said Gimli. 

'Indeed yes,' said Gandalf. 'Doubly. And is not that strange? Nothing 
that we have endured of late has seemed so grievous as the treason of 
Isengard. Even reckoned as a lord and captain Saruman has grown very strong. 
He threatens the Men of Rohan and draws off their help from Minas Tirith, 
even as the main blow is approaching from the East. Yet a treacherous weapon 
is ever a danger to the hand. Saruman also had a mind to capture the Ring, 
for himself, or at least to snare some hobbits for his evil purposes. So 
between them our enemies have contrived only to bring Merry and Pippin with 
marvellous speed, and in the nick of time, to Fangorn, where otherwise they 
would never have come at all! 

'Also they have filled themselves with new doubts that disturb their 
plans. No tidings of the battle will come to Mordor, thanks to the horsemen 
of Rohan; but the Dark Lord knows that two hobbits were taken in the Emyn 
Muil and borne away towards Isengard against the will of his own servants. 

He now has Isengard to fear as well as Minas Tirith. If Minas Tirith falls, 
it will go ill with Saruman.' 

'It is a pity that our friends lie in between,' said Gimli. 'If no land 
divided Isengard and Mordor, then they could fight while we watched and 
waited.' 

'The victor would emerge stronger than either, and free from doubt,' 
said Gandalf. 'But Isengard cannot fight Mordor, unless Saruman first 
obtains the Ring. That he will never do now. He does not yet know his peril. 




There is much that he does not know. He was so eager to lay his hands on his 
prey that he could not wait at home, and he came forth to meet and to spy on 
his messengers. But he came too late, for once, and the battle was over and 
beyond his help before he reached these parts. He did not remain here long. 

I look into his mind and I see his doubt. He has no woodcraft. He believes 
that the horsemen slew and burned all upon the field of battle; but he does 
not know whether the Ores were bringing any prisoners or not. And he does 
not know of the quarrel between his servants and the Ores of Mordor; nor 
does he know of the Winged Messenger.' 

'The Winged Messenger!' cried Legolas. 'I shot at him with the bow of 
Galadriel above Sarn Gebir, and I felled him from the sky. He filled us all 
with fear. What new terror is this?' 

'One that you cannot slay with arrows,' said Gandalf. 'You only slew 
his steed. It was a good deed; but the Rider was soon horsed again. For he 
was a Nazgyl, one of the Nine, who ride now upon winged steeds. Soon their 
terror will overshadow the last armies of our friends, cutting off the sun. 

But they have not yet been allowed to cross the River, and Saruman does not 
know of this new shape in which the Ringwraiths have been clad. His thought 
is ever on the Ring. Was it present in the battle? Was it found? What if 
Thjoden, Lord of the Mark, should come by it and learn of its power? That is 
the danger that he sees, and he has fled back to Isengard to double and 
treble his assault on Rohan. And all the time there is another danger, close 
at hand, which he does not see, busy with his fiery thoughts. He has 
forgotten Treebeard.' 

'Now you speak to yourself again,' said Aragorn with a smile. 
'Treebeard is not known to me. And I have guessed part of Saruman's double 
treachery; yet I do not see in what way the coming of two hobbits to Fangorn 
has served, save to give us a long and fruitless chase.' 

'Wait a minute!' cried Gimli. 'There is another thing that I should 
like to know first. Was it you, Gandalf, or Saruman that we saw last night?' 

'You certainly did not see me,' answered Gandalf, 'therefore I must 
guess that you saw Saruman. Evidently we look so much alike that your desire 
to make an incurable dent in my hat must be excused.' 

'Good, good!' said Gimli. 'I am glad that it was not you.' 

Gandalf laughed again. 'Yes, my good Dwarf,' he said, 'it is a comfort 
not to be mistaken at all points. Do I not know it only too well! But, of 
course, I never blamed you for your welcome of me. How could I do so, who 




have so often counselled my friends to suspect even their own hands when 
dealing with the Enemy. Bless you, Gimli, son of Gluin! Maybe you will see 
us both together one day and judge between us!' 

'But the hobbits!' Legolas broke in. 'We have come far to seek them, 
and you seem to know where they are. Where are they now?' 

'With Treebeard and the Ents,' said Gandalf. 

'The Ents!' exclaimed Aragorn. 'Then there is truth in the old legends 
about the dwellers in the deep forests and the giant shepherds of the trees? 

Are there still Ents in the world? I thought they were only a memory of 
ancient days, if indeed they were ever more than a legend of Rohan.' 

'A legend of Rohan!' cried Legolas. 'Nay, every Elf in Wilderland has 
sung songs of the old Onodrim and their long sorrow. Yet even among us they 
are only a memory. If I were to meet one still walking in this world, then 
indeed I should feel young again! But Treebeard: that is only a rendering of 
Fangorn into the Common Speech; yet you seem to speak of a person. Who is 
this Treebeard?' 

'Ah! now you are asking much,' said Gandalf. 'The little that I know of 
his long slow story would make a tale for which we have no time now. 
Treebeard is Fangorn, the guardian of the forest; he is the oldest of the 
Ents, the oldest living thing that still walks beneath the Sun upon this 
Middle-earth. I hope indeed, Legolas, that you may yet meet him. Merry and 
Pippin have been fortunate: they met him here, even where we sit. For he 
came here two days ago and bore them away to his dwelling far off by the 
roots of the mountains. He often comes here, especially when his mind is 
uneasy, and rumours of the world outside trouble him. I saw him four days 
ago striding among the trees, and I think he saw me, for he paused; but I 
did not speak, for I was heavy with thought, and weary after my struggle 
with the Eye of Mordor; and he did not speak either, nor call my name.' 

'Perhaps he also thought that you were Saruman,' said Gimli. 'But you 
speak of him as if he was a friend. I thought Fangorn was dangerous.' 

'Dangerous!' cried Gandalf. 'And so am I, very dangerous: more 
dangerous than anything you will ever meet, unless you are brought alive 
before the seat of the Dark Lord. And Aragorn is dangerous, and Legolas is 
dangerous. You are beset with dangers, Gimli son of Gluin; for you are 
dangerous yourself, in your own fashion. Certainly the forest of Fangorn is 
perilous-not least to those that are too ready with their axes; and Fangorn 
himself, he is perilous too; yet he is wise and kindly nonetheless. But now 




his long slow wrath is brimming over, and all the forest is filled with it. 

The coming of the hobbits and the tidings that they brought have spilled it: 
it will soon be running like a flood; but its tide is turned against Saruman 
and the axes of Isengard. A thing is about to happen which has not happened 
since the Elder Days: the Ents are going to wake up and find that they are 
strong.’ 

’What will they do?' asked Legolas in astonishment. 

'I do not know,' said Gandalf. 'I do not think they know themselves. I 
wonder.' He fell silent, his head bowed in thought. 

The others looked at him. A gleam of sun through fleeting clouds fell 
on his hands, which lay now upturned on his lap: they seemed to be filled 
with light as a cup is with water. At last he looked up and gazed straight 
at the sun. 

'The morning is wearing away,' he said. 'Soon we must go.' 

'Do we go to find our friends and to see Treebeard?' asked Aragorn. 

'No,' said Gandalf. 'That is not the road that you must take. I have 
spoken words of hope. But only of hope. Hope is not victory. War is 

upon us and all our friends, a war in which only the use of the Ring 
could give us surety of victory. It fills me with great sorrow and great 

fear: for much shall be destroyed and all may be lost. I am Gandalf, 

Gandalf the White, but Black is mightier still.' 

He rose and gazed out eastward, shading his eyes, as if he saw things 
far away that none of them could see. Then he shook his head. 'No,' he said 
in a soft voice, 'it has gone beyond our reach. Of that at least let us be 
glad. We can no longer be tempted to use the Ring. We must go down to face a 
peril near despair, yet that deadly peril is removed.' 

He turned. 'Come, Aragorn son of Arathorn!' he said. 'Do not regret 
your choice in the valley of the Emyn Muil, nor call it a vain pursuit. You 
chose amid doubts the path that seemed right: the choice was just, and it 
has been rewarded. For so we have met in time, who otherwise might have met 
too late. But the quest of your companions is over. Your next journey is 
marked by your given word. You must go to Edoras and seek out Thjoden in 
his 

hall. For you are needed. The light of And®ril must now be uncovered in the 
battle for which it has so long waited. There is war in Rohan, and worse 
evil: it goes ill with Thjoden.' 

'Then are we not to see the merry young hobbits again?' said Legolas. 




'I did not say so,' said Gandalf. ’Who knows? Have patience. Go where 
you must go, and hope! To Edoras! I go thither also.’ 

'It is a long way for a man to walk, young or old,' said Aragorn. 'I 
fear the battle will be over long ere I come there.’ 

'We shall see, we shall see,' said Gandalf. 'Will you come now with 
me?' 

'Yes, we will set out together,' said Aragorn. 'But I do not doubt that 
you will come there before me, if you wish.' He rose and looked long at 
Gandalf. The others gazed at them in silence as they stood there facing one 
another. The grey figure of the Man, Aragorn son of Arathorn, was tall, and 
stern as stone, his hand upon the hilt of his sword; he looked as if some 
king out of the mists of the sea had stepped upon the shores of lesser men. 
Before him stooped the old figure, white; shining now as if with some light 
kindled within, bent, laden with years, but holding a power beyond the 
strength of kings. 

'Do I not say truly, Gandalf,' said Aragorn at last, 'that you could go 
whithersoever you wished quicker than I? And this I also say: you are our 
captain and our banner. The Dark Lord has Nine. But we have One, mightier 
than they: the White Rider. He has passed through the fire and the abyss, 
and they shall fear him. We will go where he leads.' 

'Yes, together we will follow you,' said Legolas. 'But first, it would 
ease my heart, Gandalf, to hear what befell you in Moria. Will you not tell 
us? Can you not stay even to tell your friends how you were delivered?' 

'I have stayed already too long,' answered Gandalf. 'Time is short. But 
if there were a year to spend, I would not tell you all.' 

'Then tell us what you will, and time allows!' said Gimli. 'Come, 
Gandalf, tell us how you fared with the Balrog!' 

'Name him not!' said Gandalf, and for a moment it seemed that a cloud 
of pain passed over his face, and he sat silent, looking old as death. 'Long 
time I fell,' he said at last, slowly, as if thinking back with difficulty. 

'Long I fell, and he fell with me. His fire was about me. I was burned. Then 
we plunged into the deep water and all was dark. Cold it was as the tide of 
death: almost it froze my heart.' 

'Deep is the abyss that is spanned by Durin's Bridge, and none has 
measured it,' said Gimli. 

'Yet it has a bottom, beyond light and knowledge,' said Gandalf. 
'Thither I came at last, to the uttermost foundations of stone. He was with 




me still. His fire was quenched, but now he was a thing of slime, stronger 
than a strangling snake. 

'We fought far under the living earth, where time is not counted. Ever 
he clutched me, and ever I hewed him, till at last he fled into dark 
tunnels. They were not made by Durin's folk, Gimli son of Gluin. Far, far 
below the deepest delving of the Dwarves, the world is gnawed by nameless 
things. Even Sauron knows them not. They are older than he. Now I have 
walked there, but I will bring no report to darken the light of day. In that 
despair my enemy was my only hope, and I pursued him, clutching at his heel. 
Thus he brought me back at last to the secret ways of Khazad-dym: too well 
he knew them all. Ever up now we went, until we came to the Endless Stair.' 

'Long has that been lost,' said Gimli. 'Many have said that it was 
never made save in legend, but others say that it was destroyed.' 

'It was made, and it had not been destroyed,' said Gandalf. 'From the 
lowest dungeon to the highest peak it climbed, ascending in unbroken spiral 
in many thousand steps, until it issued at last in Durin's Tower carved in 
the living rock of Zirak-zigil, the pinnacle of the Silvertine. 

'There upon Celebdil was a lonely window in the snow, and before it lay 
a narrow space, a dizzy eyrie above the mists of the world. The sun shone 
fiercely there, but all below was wrapped in cloud. Out he sprang, and even 
as I came behind, he burst into new flame. There was none to see, or perhaps 
in after ages songs would still be sung of the Battle of the Peak.' Suddenly 
Gandalf laughed. 'But what would they say in song? Those that looked up from 
afar thought that the mountain was crowned with storm. Thunder they heard, 
and lightning, they said, smote upon Celebdil, and leaped back broken into 
tongues of fire. Is not that enough? A great smoke rose about us, vapour and 
steam. Ice fell like rain. I threw down my enemy, and he fell from the high 
place and broke the mountain-side where he smote it in his ruin. Then 
darkness took me; and I strayed out of thought and time, and I wandered far 
on roads that I will not tell. 

'Naked I was sent back — for a brief time, until my task is done. And 
naked I lay upon the mountain-top. The tower behind was crumbled into dust, 
the window gone; the ruined stair was choked with burned and broken stone. I 
was alone, forgotten, without escape upon the hard horn of the world. There 
I lay staring upward, while the stars wheeled over, and each day was as long 
as a life-age of the earth. Faint to my ears came the gathered rumour of all 
lands: the springing and the dying, the song and the weeping, and the slow 




everlasting groan of overburdened stone. And so at the last Gwaihir the 
Windlord found me again, and he took me up and bore me away. 

’ ’Ever am I fated to be your burden, friend at need,' I said. 

1 'A burden you have been,' he answered, 'but not so now. Light as a 
swan's feather in my claw you are. The Sun shines through you. Indeed I do 
not think you need me any more: were I to let you fall you would float upon 
the wind.' 

' 'Do not let me fall!' I gasped, for I felt life in me again. 'Bear me 
to Lothlurien!' 

' 'That indeed is the command of the Lady Galadriel who sent me to look 
for you,' he answered. 

'Thus it was that I came to Caras Galadhon and found you but lately 
gone. I tarried there in the ageless time of that land where days bring 
healing not decay. Healing I found, and I was clothed in white. Counsel I 
gave and counsel took. Thence by strange roads I came, and messages I bring 
to some of you. To Aragorn I was bidden to say this: 

Where now are the D®nedain, Elessar, Elessar? 

Why do thy kinsfolk wander afar? 

Near is the hour when the Lost should come forth, 

And the Grey Company ride from the North. 

But dark is the path appointed for thee: 

The Dead watch the road that leads to the Sea. 

To Legolas she sent this word: 

Legolas Greenleaf long under tree 

In joy thou hast lived. Beware of the Seal 

If thou hearest the cry of the gull on the shore, 

Thy heart shall then rest in the forest no more. ' 

Gandalf fell silent and shut his eyes. 

'Then she sent me no message?' said Gimli and bent his head. 

'Dark are her words,' said Legolas, 'and little do they mean to those 
that receive them.' 

'That is no comfort,' said Gimli. 

'What then?' said Legolas. 'Would you have her speak openly to you of 
your death?' 

'Yes. if she had nought else to say.' 

'What is that?' said Gandalf, opening his eyes. 'Yes, I think I can 
guess what her words may mean. Your pardon, Gimli ! I was pondering the 




messages once again. But indeed she sent words to you, and neither dark nor 
sad. 

’ "To Gimli son of Gluin," she said, "give his Lady's greeting. 

Lock -bearer, wherever thou goest my thought goes with thee. But have a care 
to lay thine axe to the right tree ! " ’ 

’In happy hour you have returned to us, Gandalf,' cried the Dwarf, 
capering as he sang loudly in the strange dwarf-tongue. 'Come, come!’ he 
shouted, swinging his axe. ’Since Gandalf s head is now sacred, let us find 
one that it is right to cleave!’ 

’That will not be far to seek,’ said Gandalf, rising from his seat. 

'Come! We have spent all the time that is allowed to a meeting of parted 
friends. Now there is need of haste.' 

He wrapped himself again in his old tattered cloak, and led the way. 
Following him they descended quickly from the high shelf and made their way 
back through the forest, down the bank of the Entwash. They spoke no more 
words, until they stood again upon the grass beyond the eaves of Fangorn. 
There was no sign of their horses to be seen. 

’They have not returned,’ said Legolas. 'It will be a weary walk!' 

'I shall not walk. Time presses,' said Gandalf. Then lifting up his 
head he gave a long whistle. So clear and piercing was the note that the 
others stood amazed to hear such a sound come from those old bearded lips. 
Three times he whistled; and then faint and far off it seemed to them that 
they heard the whinny of a horse borne up from the plains upon the eastern 
wind. They waited wondering. Before long there came the sound of hoofs, at 
first hardly more than a tremor of the ground perceptible only to Aragorn as 
he lay upon the grass, then growing steadily louder and clearer to a quick 
beat. 

'There is more than one horse coming,' said Aragorn. 

’Certainly,' said Gandalf. 'We are too great a burden for one.' 

'There are three,' said Legolas, gazing out over the plain. 'See how 
they run! There is Hasufel, and there is my friend Arod beside him! But 
there is another that strides ahead: a very great horse. I have not seen his 
like before.' 

'Nor will you again,' said Gandalf. 'That is Shadowfax. He is the chief 
of the Mearas, lords of horses, and not even Thjoden, King of Rohan, has 
ever looked on a better. Does he not shine like silver, and run as smoothly 
as a swift stream? He has come for me: the horse of the White Rider. We are 




going to battle together.' 

Even as the old wizard spoke, the great horse came striding up the 
slope towards them; his coat was glistening and his mane flowing in the wind 
of his speed. The two others followed, now far behind. As soon as Shadowfax 
saw Gandalf, he checked his pace and whinnied loudly; then trotting gently 
forward he stooped his proud head and nuzzled his great nostrils against the 
old man's neck. 

Gandalf caressed him. 'It is a long way from Rivendell, my friend,' he 
said; 'but you are wise and swift and come at need. Far let us ride now 
together, and part not in this world again!' 

Soon the other horses came up and stood quietly by, as if awaiting 
orders. 'We go at once to Meduseld, the hall of your master, Thjoden,' said 
Gandalf, addressing them gravely. They bowed their heads. 'Time presses, so 
with your leave, my friends, we will ride. We beg you to use all the speed 
that you can. Hasufel shall bear Aragorn and Arod Legolas. I will set Gimli 
before me, and by his leave Shadowfax shall bear us both. We will wait now 
only to drink a little.' 

'Now I understand a part of last night's riddle,' said Legolas as he 
sprang lightly upon Arod's back. 'Whether they fled at first in fear, or 
not, our horses met Shadowfax, their chieftain, and greeted him with joy. 

Did you know that he was at hand, Gandalf?' 

'Yes, I knew,' said the wizard. 'I bent my thought upon him, bidding 
him to make haste; for yesterday he was far away in the south of this land. 
Swiftly may he bear me back again!' 

Gandalf spoke now to Shadowfax, and the horse set off at a good pace, 
yet not beyond the measure of the others. After a little while he turned 
suddenly, and choosing a place where the banks were lower, he waded the 
river, and then led them away due south into a flat land, treeless and wide. 

The wind went like grey waves through the endless miles of grass. There was 
no sign of road or track, but Shadowfax did not stay or falter. 

'He is steering a straight course now for the halls of Thjoden under 
the slopes of the White Mountains,' said Gandalf. 'It will be quicker so. 

The ground is firmer in the Eastemnet, where the chief northward track lies, 
across the river, but Shadowfax knows the way through every fen and hollow.' 

For many hours they rode on through the meads and riverlands. Often the 
grass was so high that it reached above the knees of the riders, and their 




steeds seemed to be swimming in a grey-green sea. They came upon many 
hidden 

pools, and broad acres of sedge waving above wet and treacherous bogs; but 
Shadowfax found the way, and the other horses followed in his swath. Slowly 
the sun fell from the sky down into the West. Looking out over the great 
plain, far away the riders saw it for a moment like a red fire sinking into 
the grass. Low upon the edge of sight shoulders of the mountains glinted red 
upon either side. A smoke seemed to rise up and darken the sun's disc to the 
hue of blood, as if it had kindled the grass as it passed down under the rim 
of earth. 

’There lies the Gap of Rohan,' said Gandalf. 'It is now almost due west 
of us. That way lies Isengard.' 

'I see a great smoke,' said Legolas. 'What may that be?' 

'Battle and war!' said Gandalf. 'Ride on!' 




Chapter 6 . The King of the Golden Hall 



They rode on through sunset, and slow dusk, and gathering night. When 
at last they halted and dismounted, even Aragorn was stiff and weary. 
Gandalf only allowed them a few hours' rest. Legolas and Gimli slept and 
Aragorn lay flat, stretched upon his back; but Gandalf stood, leaning on his 
staff, gazing into the darkness, east and west. All was silent, and there 
was no sign or sound of living thing. The night was barred with long clouds, 
fleeting on a chill wind, when they arose again. Under the cold moon they 
went on once more, as swift as by the light of day. 

Hours passed and still they rode on. Gimli nodded and would have fallen 
from his seat, if Gandalf had not clutched and shaken him. Hasufel and Arod, 
weary but proud, followed their tireless leader, a grey shadow before them 
hardly to he seen. The miles went by. The waxing moon sank into the cloudy 
West. 

A bitter chill came into the air. Slowly in the East the dark faded to 
a cold grey. Red shafts of light leapt above the black walls of the Emyn 
Muil far away upon their left. Dawn came clear and bright; a wind swept 
across their path, rushing through the bent grasses. Suddenly Shadowfax 
stood still and neighed. Gandalf pointed ahead. 

'Look!' he cried, and they lifted their tired eyes. Before them stood 
the mountains of the South: white-tipped and streaked with black. The 
grass-lands rolled against the hills that clustered at their feet, and 
flowed up into many valleys still dim and dark, untouched by the light of 
dawn, winding their way into the heart of the great mountains. Immediately 
before the travellers the widest of these glens opened like a long gulf 
among the hills. Far inward they glimpsed a tumbled mountain-mass with one 
tall peak; at the mouth of the vale there stood like sentinel a lonely 
height. About its feet there flowed, as a thread of silver, the stream that 
issued from the dale; upon its brow they caught, still far away, a glint in 
the rising sun, a glimmer of gold. ’Speak, Legolas!' said Gandalf. 'Tell us 
what you see there before us!' 

Legolas gazed ahead, shading his eyes from the level shafts of the 
new-risen sun. 'I see a white stream that comes down from the snows,' he 
said. 'Where it issues from the shadow of the vale a green hill rises upon 




the east. A dike and mighty wall and thorny fence encircle it. Within there 
rise the roofs of houses; and in the midst, set upon a green terrace, there 
stands aloft a great hall of Men. And it seems to my eyes that it is 
thatched with gold. The light of it shines far over the land. Golden, too, 
are the posts of its doors. There men in bright mail stand; but all else 
within the courts are yet asleep.’ 

'Edoras those courts are called,’ said Gandalf, ’and Meduseld is that 
golden hall. There dwells Thjoden son of Thengel, King of the Mark of Rohan. 
We are come with the rising of the day. Now the road lies plain to see 
before us. But we must ride more warily; for war is abroad, and the 
Rohirrim, the Horse-lords, do not sleep, even if it seem so from afar. Draw 
no weapon, speak no haughty word, I counsel you all, until we are come 
before Thjoden’s seat.’ 

The morning was bright and clear about them, and birds were singing, 
when the travellers came to the stream. It ran down swiftly into the plain, 
and beyond the feet of the hills turned across their path in a wide bend, 
flowing away east to feed the Entwash far off in its reed-choked beds. The 
land was green: in the wet meads and along the grassy borders of the stream 
grew many willow-trees. Already in this southern land they were blushing red 
at their fingertips. Feeling the approach of spring. Over the stream there 
was a ford between low banks much trampled by the passage of horses. The 
travellers passed over and came upon a wide rutted track leading towards the 
uplands. 

At the foot of the walled hill the way ran under the shadow of many 
mounds, high and green. Upon their western sides the grass was white as with 
a drifted snow: small flowers sprang there like countless stars amid the 
turf. 

’Look!’ said Gandalf. ’How fair are the bright eyes in the grass! 
Evermind they are called, simbelmynl in this land of Men, for they blossom 
in all the seasons of the year, and grow where dead men rest. Behold! we are 
come to the great barrows where the sires of Thjoden sleep.’ 'Seven mounds 
upon the left, and nine upon the right,’ said Aragorn. ’Many long lives of 
men it is since the golden hall was built.’ 

’Five hundred times have the red leaves fallen in Mirkwood in my home 
since then,’ said Legolas, 'and but a little while does that seem to us.’ 

’But to the Riders of the Mark it seems so long ago,’ said Aragorn, 

’that the raising of this house is but a memory of song, and the years 




before are lost in the mist of time. Now they call this land their home, 
their own, and their speech is sundered from their northern kin.' Then he 
began to chant softly in a slow tongue unknown to the Elf and Dwarf; yet 
they listened, for there was a strong music in it. 

That, I guess, is the language of the Rohirrim,' said Legolas; 'for it 
is like to this land itself; rich and rolling in part, and else hard and 
stern as the mountains. But I cannot guess what it means, save that it is 
laden with the sadness of Mortal Men.' 

'It runs thus in the Common Speech,' said Aragorn, 'as near as I can 
make it. 

Where now the horse and the rider? Where is the horn that was blowing? 

Where is the helm and the hauberk, and the bright hair flowing? 

Where is the hand on the harpstring, and the red fire glowing? 

Where is the spring and the harvest and the tall corn growing? 

They have passed like rain on the mountain, like a wind in the meadow; 

The days have gone down in the West behind the hills into shadow. 

Who shall gather the smoke of the dead wood burning, 

Or behold the flowing years from the Sea returning? 

Thus spoke a forgotten poet long ago in Rohan, recalling how tall and 
fair was Eorl the Young, who rode down out of the North; and there were 
wings upon the feet of his steed, Felaruf, father of horses. So men still 
sing in the evening.' 

With these words the travellers passed the silent mounds. Following the 
winding way up the green shoulders of the hills, they came at last to the 
wide wind-swept walls and the gates of Edoras. 

There sat many men in bright mail, who sprang at once to their feet and 
barred the way with spears. 'Stay, strangers here unknown!' they cried in 
the tongue of the Riddermark, demanding the names and errand of the 
strangers. Wonder was in their eyes but little friendliness; and they looked 
darkly upon Gandalf. 

'Well do I understand your speech,' he answered in the same language; 
'yet few strangers do so. Why then do you not speak in the Common Tongue, 
as 

is the custom in the West, if you wish to be answered?' 

'It is the will of Thjoden King that none should enter his gates, save 
those who know our tongue and are our friends,' replied one of the guards. 
'None are welcome here in days of war but our own folk, and those that come 




from Mundburg in the land of Gondor. Who are you that come heedless over 
the 

plain thus strangely clad, riding horses like to our own horses? Long have 
we kept guard here, and we have watched you from afar. Never have we seen 
other riders so strange, nor any horse more proud than is one of these that 
bear you. He is One of the Mearas, unless our eyes are cheated by some 
spell. Say, are you not a wizard, some spy from Saruman, or phantoms of his 
craft? Speak now and be swift!' 

'We are no phantoms,' said Aragorn, 'nor do your eyes cheat you. For 
indeed these are your own horses that we ride, as you knew well are you 
asked, I guess. But seldom does thief ride home to the stable. Here are 
Hasufel and Arod, that Jomer, the Third Marshal of the Mark, lent to us, 
only two days ago. We bring them back now, even as we promised him. Has 
not 

Jomer then returned and given warning of our coming?' 

A troubled look came into the guard's eyes. 'Of Jomer I have naught to 
say,' he answered. 'If what you tell me is truth, then doubtless Thjoden 
will have heard of it. Maybe your coming was not wholly unlooked-for. It is 
but two nights ago that Wormtongue came to us and said that by the will of 
Thjoden no stranger should pass these gates.' 

'Wormtongue?' said Gandalf, looking sharply at the guard. 'Say no more! 

My errand is not to Wormtongue, but to the Lord of the Mark himself. I am in 
haste. Will you not go or send to say that we are come?' His eyes glinted 
under his deep brows as he bent his gaze upon the man. 

'Yes, I will go,' he answered slowly. 'But what names shall I report? 

And what shall I say of you? Old and weary you seem now, and yet you are 
fell and grim beneath, I deem' 

'Well do you see and speak,' said the wizard. 'For I am Gandalf. I have 
returned. And behold! I too bring back a horse. Here is Shadowfax the Great, 
whom no other hand can tame. And here beside me is Aragorn son of 
Arathorn, 

the heir of Kings, and it is to Mundburg that he goes. Here also are Legolas 
the Elf and Gimli the Dwarf, our comrades. Go now and say to your master 
that we are at his gates and would have speech with him, if he will permit 
us to come into his hall.' 'Strange names you give indeed! But I will report 
them as you bid and learn my master's will,' said the guard. 'Wait here a 
little while, and f will bring you such answer as seems good to him. Do not 




hope too much! These are dark days.' He went swiftly away, leaving the 
strangers in the watchful keeping of his comrades. After some time he 
returned. ’Follow me!' he said. 'Thjoden gives you leave to enter; but any 
weapon that you bear; be it only a staff, you must leave on the threshold. 

The doorwardens will keep them.' 

The dark gates were swung open. The travellers entered, walking in file 
behind their guide. They found a broad path, paved with hewn stones, now 
winding upward, now climbing in short flights of well-laid steps. Many 
houses built of wood and many dark doors they passed. Beside the way in a 
stone channel a stream of clear water flowed, sparkling and chattering. At 
length they came to the crown of the hill. There stood a high platform above 
a green terrace, at the foot of which a bright spring gushed from a stone 
carved in the likeness of a horse's head; beneath was a wide basin from 
which the water, spilled and fed the falling stream. Up the green terrace 
went a stair of stone, high and broad, and on either side of the topmost 
step were stone-hewn sea, There sat other guards, with drawn swords laid 
upon their knees. Their golden hair was braided on their shoulders the sun 
was blazoned upon their green shields, their long corslets were burnished 
bright, and when they rose taller they seemed than mortal men. 

’There are the doors before you,’ said the guide. ’I must return now to 
my duty at the gate. Farewell! And may the Lord of the Mark be gracious to 
you!’ 

He turned and went swiftly back down the road. The others climbed the 
long stair under the eyes of the tall watchmen. Silent they stood now above 
and spoke no word, until Gandalf stepped out upon the paved terrace at the 
stairs head. Then suddenly with clear voices they spoke a courteous greeting 
in their own tongue. 

Hail, corners from afar!’ they said, and they turned the hilts of their 
swords towards the travellers in token of peace. Green gems flashed in the 
sunlight. Then one of the guards stepped forward and spoke in the Common 
Speech. 

’I am the Doorward of Thjoden,’ he said. ’Hbma is my name. Here I must 
bid you lay aside your weapons before you enter.’ 

Then Legolas gave into his hand his silver -hafted knife, his quiver and 
his bow. ’Keep these well,’ he said, ’for they come from the Golden Wood and 
the Lady of Lothlurien gave them to me.’ 

Wonder came into the man’s eyes, and he laid the weapons hastily by the 




wall, as if he feared to handle them. 'No man will touch them I promise 
you,' he said. 

Aragorn stood a while hesitating. 'It is not my will,' he said, 'to put 
aside my sword or to deliver And®ril to the hand of any other man.' 

'It is the will of Thjoden,' said Hbma. 

'It is not clear to me that the will of Thjoden son of Thengel even 
though he be lord of the Mark, should prevail over the will of Aragorn son 
of Arathorn, Elendil's heir of Gondor.' 

'This is the house of Thjoden, not of Aragorn, even were he King of 
Gondor in the seat of Denethor,' said Hbma, stepping swiftly before the 
doors and barring the way. His sword was now in his hand and the point 
towards the strangers. 

'This is idle talk,' said Gandalf. 'Needless is Thjoden's demand, but 
it is useless to refuse. A king will have his way in his own hall, be it 
folly or wisdom.' 

'Truly,' said Aragorn. 'And I would do as the master of the house bade 
me, were this only a woodman's cot, if I bore now any sword but And®ril.' 

'Whatever its name may be,' said Hbma, 'here you shall lay it, if you 
would not fight alone against all the men in Edoras.' 

'Not alone!' said Gimli, fingering the blade of his axe, and looking 
darkly up at the guard, as if he were a young tree that Gimli had a mind to 
fell. 'Not alone!' 

'Come, come!' said Gandalf. 'We are all friends here. Or should be; for 
the laughter of Mordor will be our only reward, if we quarrel. My errand is 
pressing. Here at least is my sword, goodman Hbma. Keep it well. Glamdring 
it is called, for the Elves made it long ago. Now let me pass. Come, 
Aragorn!' 

Slowly Aragorn unbuckled his belt and himself set his sword upright 
against the wall. 'Here I set it,' he said; 'but I command you not to touch 
it, nor to permit any other to lay hand on it. In this elvish heath dwells 
the Blade that was Broken and has been made again. Telchar first wrought it 
in the deeps of time. Death shall come to any man that draws Elendil's sword 
save Elendil's heir.' 

The guard stepped back and looked with amazement on Aragorn. 'It seems 
that you are come on the wings of song out of the forgotten days he said. It 
shall be, lord, as you command. 

'Well,' said Gimli, 'if it has And®ril to keep it company, my axe may 




stay here, too, without shame’; and he laid it on the floor. 'Now then, if 
all is as you wish, let us go and speak with your master.’ 

The guard still hesitated. ’Your staff,' he said to Gandalf. ’Forgive 
me, but that too must be left at the doors.' 

’Foolishness!' said Gandalf. 'Prudence is one thing, but discourtesy is 
another. I am old. If I may not lean on my stick as I go, then I will sit 
out here, until it pleases Thjoden to hobble out himself to speak with me.’ 

Aragorn laughed. ’Every man has something too dear to trust to another. 
But would you part an old man from his support? Come, will you not let us 
enter?' 

'The staff in the hand of a wizard may be more than a prop for age’ 
said Hbma. He looked hard at the ash-staff on which Gandalf leaned. 'Yet in 
doubt a man of worth will trust to his own wisdom. I believe you are friends 
and folk worthy of honour, who have no evil purpose. You may go in.' 

The guards now lifted the heavy bars of the doors and swung them slowly 
inwards grumbling on their great hinges. The travellers entered. Inside it 
seemed dark and warm after the clear air upon the hill. The hall was long 
and wide and filled with shadows and half lights; mighty pillars upheld its 
lofty roof. But here and there bright sunbeams fell in glimmering shafts 
from the eastern windows, high under the deep eaves. Through the louver in 
the roof, above the thin wisps of issuing smoke, the sky showed pale and 
blue. As their eyes changed, the travellers perceived that the floor was 
paved with stones of many hues; branching runes and strange devices 
intertwined beneath their feet. They saw now that the pillars were richly 
carved, gleaming dully with gold and half-seen colours. Many woven cloths 
were hung upon the walls, and over their wide spaces marched figures of 
ancient legend, some dim with years, some darkling in the shade. But upon 
one form the sunlight fell: a young man upon a white horse. He was blowing a 
great horn, and his yellow hair was flying in the wind. The horse's head was 
lifted, and its nostrils were wide and red as it neighed, smelling battle 
afar. Foaming water, green and white, rushed and curled about its knees. 

'Behold Eorl the Young!' said Aragorn. 'Thus he rode out of the North 
to the Battle of the Field of Celebrant.' 

Now the four companions went forward, past the clear wood-fire burning 
upon the long hearth in the midst of the hall. Then they halted. At the far 
end of the house, beyond the hearth and facing north towards the doors, was 
a dais with three steps; and in the middle of the dais was a great gilded 




chair. Upon it sat a man so bent with age that he seemed almost a dwarf; but 
his white hair was long and thick and fell in great braids from beneath a 
thin golden circle set upon his brow. In the centre upon his forehead shone 
a single white diamond. His beard was laid like snow upon his knees; but his 
eyes still burned with a bright light, glinting as he gazed at the 
strangers. Behind his chair stood a woman clad in white. At his feet upon 
the steps sat a wizened figure of a man, with a pale wise face and 
heavy -lidded eyes. 

There was a silence. The old man did not move in his chair. At length 
Gandalf spoke. 'Hail, Thjoden son of Thengel! I have returned. For behold! 
the storm comes, and now all friends should gather together, lest each 
singly be destroyed.' 

Slowly the old man rose to his feet, leaning heavily upon a short black 
staff with a handle of white bone; and now the strangers saw that, bent 
though he was, he was still tall and must in youth have been high and proud 
indeed. 

'I greet you,' he said, 'and maybe you look for welcome. But truth to 
tell your welcome is doubtful here, Master Gandalf. You have ever been a 
herald of woe. Troubles follow you like crows, and ever the oftener the 
worse. I will not deceive you: when I heard that Shadowfax had come back 
riderless, I rejoiced at the return of the horse, but still more at the lack 
of the rider; and when Jomer brought the tidings that you had gone at last 
to your long home, I did not mourn. But news from afar is seldom sooth. Here 
you come again! And with you come evils worse than before, as might be 
expected. Why should I welcome you, Gandalf Stormcrow? Tell me that.' 
Slowly 

he sat down again in his chair. 

'You speak justly, lord,' said the pale man sitting upon the steps of 
the dais. 'It is not yet five days since the bitter tidings came that 
Thjodred your son was slain upon the West Marches: your right hand, Second 
Marshal Of the Mark. In Jomer there is little trust. Few men would be left 
to guard your walls, if he had been allowed to rule. And even now we learn 
from Gondor that the Dark Lord is stirring in the East. Such is the hour in 
which this wanderer chooses to return. Why indeed should we welcome you, 
Master Stormcrow? Lbthspell I name you, Ill-news; and ill news is an ill 
guest they say.' He laughed grimly, as he lifted his heavy lids for a moment 
and gazed on the strangers with dark eyes. 




’You are held wise, my friend Wormtongue, and are doubtless a great 
support to your master,’ answered Gandalf in a soft voice. 'Yet in two ways 
may a man come with evil tidings, lie may be a worker of evil; or he may be 
such as leaves well alone, and comes only to bring aid in time of need.’ 

’That is so,’ said Wormtongue; ’but there is a third kind: pickers of 
bones, meddlers in other men’s sorrows, carrion-fowl that grow fat on war. 
What aid have you ever brought, Stormcrow? And what aid do you bring now? 
It 

was aid from us that you sought last time that you were here. Then my lord 
bade you Choose any horse that you would and be gone; and to the wonder of 
all you took Shadowfax in your insolence. My lord was sorely grieved; yet to 
some it seemed that to speed you from the land the price was not too great. 

I guess that it is likely to turn out the same once more: you will seek aid 
rather than render it. Do you bring men? Do you bring horses, swords, 
spears? That I would call aid; that is our present need. But who are these 
that follow at your tail? Three ragged wanderers in grey, and you yourself 
the most beggar-like of the four!’ 

’The courtesy of your hall is somewhat lessened of late, Thjoden son of 
Thengel,’ said Gandalf. ’Has not the messenger from your gate reported the 
names of my companions? Seldom has any lord of Rohan received three 
such 

guests. Weapons they have laid at your doors that are worth many a mortal 
man, even the mightiest. Grey is their raiment, for the Elves clad them, and 
thus they have passed through the shadow of great perils to your hall.’ 

’Then it is true, as Jomer reported, that you are in league with the 
Sorceress of the Golden Wood?’ said Wormtongue. ’It is not to be wondered 
at: webs of deceit were ever woven in Dwimordene.’ 

Gimli strode a pace forward, but felt suddenly the hand of Gandalf 
clutch him by the shoulder, and he halted, standing stiff as stone. 

In Dwimordene, in Lurien 
Seldom have walked the feet of Men, 

Few mortal eyes have seen the light 
That lies there ever, long and bright. 

Galadriel! Galadriel! 

Clear is the water of your well; 

White is the star in your white hand; 

Unmarred, unstained is leaf and land 




In Dwimordene, in Lurien 

More fair than thoughts of Mortal Men. 

Thus Gandalf softly sang, and then suddenly he changed. Casting his 
tattered cloak aside, he stood up and leaned no longer on his staff; and he 
spoke in a clear cold voice. The wise speak only of what they know, Grnma 
son of Gblmud. A witless worm have you become. Therefore be silent, and 
keep 

your forked tongue behind your teeth. I have not passed through fire and 
death to bandy crooked words with a serving -man till the lightning falls.' 

He raised his staff. There was a roll of thunder. The sunlight was blotted 
out from the eastern windows; the whole hall became suddenly dark as night. 
The fire faded to sullen embers. Only Gandalf could be seen, standing white 
and tall before the blackened hearth. 

In the gloom they heard the hiss of Wormtongue's voice: 'Did I not 
counsel you, lord, to forbid his staff? That fool, Hbma, has betrayed us!' 
There was a flash as if lightning had cloven the roof. Then all was silent. 
Wormtongue sprawled on his face. 

'Now Thjoden son of Thengel, will you hearken to me?' said Gandalf. 'Do 
you ask for help?' He lifted his staff and pointed to a high window. There 
the darkness seemed to clear, and through the opening could be seen, high 
and far, a patch of shining sky. 'Not all is dark. Take courage, Lord of the 
Mark; for better help you will not find. No counsel have I to give to those 
that despair. Yet counsel I could give, and words I could speak to you. Will 
you hear them? They are not for all ears. I bid you come out before your 
doors and look abroad. Too long have you sat in shadows and trusted to 
twisted tales and crooked promptings.' 

Slowly Thjoden left his chair. A faint light grew in the hall again. 

The woman hastened to the king's side, taking his arm, and with faltering 
steps the old man came down from the dais and paced softly through the hall. 
Wormtongue remained lying on the floor. They came to the doors and 
Gandalf 
knocked. 

'Open!' he cried. 'The Lord of the Mark comes forth!' 

The doors rolled back and a keen air came whistling in. A wind was 
blowing on the hill. 'Send your guards down to the stairs foot,' said 
Gandalf. 'And you, lady, leave him a while with me. I will care for him.' 

'Go, Jowyn sister-daughter!' said the old king. 'The time for fear is 




past.' 

The woman turned and went slowly into the house. As she passed the 
doors she turned and looked back. Grave and thoughtful was her glance, as 
she looked on the king with cool pity in her eyes. Very fair was her face, 
and her long hair was like a river of gold. Slender and tall she was in her 
white robe girt with silver; but strong she seemed and stern as steel, a 
daughter of kings. Thus Aragorn for the first time in the full light of day 
beheld Jowyn, Lady of Rohan, and thought her fair, fair and cold, like a 
morning of pale spring that is not yet come to womanhood. And she now was 
suddenly aware of him: tall heir of kings, wise with many winters, 
greycloaked. Hiding a power that yet she felt. For a moment still as stone 
she stood, then turning swiftly she was gone. 

'Now, lord,' said Gandalf, 'look out upon your land! Breathe the free 
air again!' 

From the porch upon the top of the high terrace they could see beyond 
the stream the green fields of Rohan fading into distant grey. Curtains of 
wind-blown rain were slanting down. The sky above and to the west was still 
dark with thunder, and lightning far away flickered among the tops of hidden 
hills. But the wind had shifted to the north, and already the storm that had 
come out of the East was receding, rolling away southward to the sea. 
Suddenly through a rent in the clouds behind them a shaft of sun stabbed 
down. The falling showers gleamed like silver, and far away the river 
glittered like a shimmering glass. 

'It is not so dark here,' said Thjoden. 

'No,' said Gandalf. 'Nor does age lie so heavily on your shoulders as 
some would have you think. Cast aside your prop!' 

From the king's hand the black staff fell clattering on the stones. He 
drew himself up, slowly, as a man that is stiff from long bending over some 
dull toil. Now tall and straight he stood, and his eyes were blue as he 
looked into the opening sky. 

'Dark have been my dreams of late,' he said, 'but I feel as one 
new-awakened. I would now that you had come before, Gandalf. For I fear that 
already you have come too late, only to see the last days of my house. Not 
long now shall stand the high hall which Brego son of Eorl built. Fire shall 
devour the high seat. What is to be done?' 

'Much,' said Gandalf. 'But first send for Jomer. Do I not guess rightly 
that you hold him prisoner, by the counsel of Grnma, of him that all save 




you name the Wormtongue?' 

'It is true,' said Thjoden. 'He had rebelled against my commands, and 
threatened death to Grnma in my hall.' 

'A man may love you and yet not love Wormtongue or his counsels' said 
Gandalf. 

'That may be. I will do as you ask. Call Hbma to me. Since he proved 
untrusty as a doorward, let him become an errand -runner. The guilty shall 
bring the guilty to judgement,' said Thjoden, and his voice was grim, yet he 
looked at Gandalf and smiled and as he did so many lines of care were 
smoothed away and did not return. 

When Hbma had been summoned and had gone, Gandalf led Thjoden to 
a 

stone seat, and then sat himself before the king upon the topmost stair. 
Aragorn and his companions stood nearby. 

'There is no time to tell all that you should hear,' said Gandalf. 'Yet 
if my hope is not cheated, a time will come ere long when I can speak more 
fully. Behold! you are come into a peril greater even than the wit of 
Wormtongue could weave into your dreams. But see! you dream no longer. 
You 

live. Gondor and Rohan do not stand alone. The enemy is strong beyond our 
reckoning, yet we have a hope at which he has not guessed.' 

Quickly now Gandalf spoke. His voice was low and secret, and none save 
the king heard what he said. But ever as he spoke the light shone brighter 
in Thjoden's eye, and at the last he rose from his seat to his full height, 
and Gandalf beside him, and together they looked out from the high place 
towards the East. 

'Verily,' said Gandalf, now in a loud voice, keen and clear, 'that way 
lies our hope, where sits our greatest fear. Doom hangs still on a thread. 

Yet hope there is still, if we can but stand unconquered for a little 
while.' 

The others too now turned their eyes eastward. Over the sundering 
leagues of land, far away they gazed to the edge of sight, and hope and fear 
bore their thoughts still on, beyond dark mountains to the Land of Shadow. 
Where now was the Ring -bearer? How thin indeed was the thread upon 
which 

doom still hung! It seemed to Legolas, as he strained his farseeing eyes, 
that he caught a glint of white: far away perchance the sun twinkled on a 




pinnacle of the Tower of Guard. And further still, endlessly remote and yet 
a present threat, there was a tiny tongue of flame. 

Slowly Thjoden sat down again, as if weariness still struggled to 
master him against the will of Gandalf. He turned and looked at his great 
house. 'Alas!' he said, 'that these evil days should be mine, and should 
come in my old age instead of that peace which I have earned. Alas for 
Boromir the brave! The young perish and the old linger, withering.' He 
clutched his knees with his wrinkled hands. 

'Your fingers would remember their old strength better, if they grasped 
a sword-hilt,' said Gandalf. 

Thjoden rose and put his hand to his side; but no sword hung at his 
belt. 'Where has Grnma stowed it?' he muttered under his breath. 

'Take this, dear lord!' said a clear voice. 'It was ever at your 
service.' Two men had come softly up the stair and stood now a few steps 
from the top. Jomer was there. No helm was on his head, no mail was on his 
breast, but in his hand he held a drawn sword; and as he knelt he offered 
the hilt to his master. 

'How comes this?' said Thjoden sternly. He turned towards Jomer and the 
men looked in wonder at him, standing now proud and erect. Where was the 
old 

man whom they had left crouching in his chair or leaning on his stick? 

'It is my doing, lord,' said Hbma, trembling. I understood that Jomer 
was to be set free. Such joy was in my heart that maybe I have erred. Yet, 
since he was free again, and he a Marshal of the Mark, ! brought him his 
sword as he bade me.' 

'To lay at your feet, my lord,' said Jomer. 

For a moment of silence Thjoden stood looking down at Jomer as he knelt 
still before him. Neither moved. 

'Will you not take the sword?' said Gandalf. 

Slowly Thjoden stretched forth his hand. As his fingers took the hilt, 
it seemed to the watchers that firmness and strength returned to his thin 
arm. Suddenly he lifted the blade and swung it shimmering and whistling in 
the air. Then he gave a great cry. His voice rang clear as he chanted in the 
tongue of Rohan a call to arms. 

Arise now, arise, Riders of Thjoden! 

Dire deeds awake, dark is it eastward. 

Let horse be bridled, horn be sounded! 




Forth Eorlingas! 

The guards, thinking that they were summoned, sprang up the stair. They 
looked at their lord in amazement, and then as one man they drew their 
swords and laid them at his feet. 'Command us!’ they said. 

'Westu Thjoden hbl!' cried Jomer. ’It is a joy to us to see you return 
into your own. Never again shall it be said, Gandalf, that you come only 
with grief!’ 

'Take back your sword, Jomer, sister-son!' said the king. 'Go, Hbma, 
and seek my own sword! Grnma has it in his keeping. Bring him to me also. 
Now, Gandalf, you said that you had counsel to give, if I would hear it. 

What is your counsel?' 

'You have yourself already taken it,' answered Gandalf. 'To put your 
trust in Jomer, rather than in a man of crooked mind. To cast aside regret 
and fear. To do the deed at hand. Every man that can ride should be sent 
west at once, as Jomer counselled you: we must first destroy the threat of 
Saruman, while we have time. If we fail, we fall. If we succeed — then we 
will face the next task. Meanwhile your people that are left, the women and 
the children and the old, should stay to the refuges that you have in the 
mountains. Were they not prepared against just such an evil day as this? Let 
them take provision, but delay not, nor burden themselves with treasures, 
great or small. It is their lives that are at stake.' 

'This counsel seems good to me now,' said Thjoden. 'Let all my folk get 
ready ! But you my guests-truly you said, Gandalf, that the courtesy of my 
hall is lessened. You have ridden through the night, and the morning wears 
away. You have had neither sleep nor food. A guest-house shall be made 
ready: there you shall sleep, when you have eaten.' 

'Nay, lord,' said Aragorn. 'There is no rest yet for the weary. The men 
of Rohan must ride forth today, and we will ride with them, axe, sword, and 
bow. We did not bring them to rest against your wall, Lord of the Mark. And 
I promised Jomer that my sword and his should be drawn together.' 

'Now indeed there is hope of victory!' said Jomer. 

'Hope, yes,' said Gandalf. 'But Isengard is strong. And other perils 
draw ever nearer. Do not delay, Thjoden, when we are gone. Lead your people 
swiftly to the Hold of Dunharrow in the hills!' 

'Nay, Gandalf!' said the king. 'You do not know your own skill in 
healing. It shall not be so. I myself will go to war, to fall in the front 
of the battle, if it must be. Thus shall I sleep better.' 




'Then even the defeat of Rohan will be glorious in song,' said Aragorn. 

The armed men that stood near clashed their weapons, crying: 'The Lord of 
the Mark will ride! Forth Eorlingas!' 

'But your people must not be both unarmed and shepherdless' said 
Gandalf. 'Who shall guide them and govern them in your place?' 

'I will take thought for that ere I go,' answered Thjoden. 'Here comes 
my counsellor.' 

At that moment Hbma came again from the hall. Behind him cringing 
between two other men, came Grnma the Wormtongue. His face was very 
white. 

His eyes blinked in the sunlight. Hbma knelt and presented to Thjoden a long 
sword in a scabbard clasped with gold and set with green gems. 'Here, lord, 
is Herugrim, your ancient blade,' he said. 'It was found in his chest. Loth 
was he to render up the keys. Many other things are there which men have 
missed.' 

'You lie,' said Wormtongue. 'And this sword your master himself gave 
into my keeping.' 

'And he now requires it of you again,' said Thjoden. 'Does that 
displease you?' 

'Assuredly not. lord,' said Wormtongue. 'I care for you and yours as 
best I may. But do not weary yourself, or tax too heavily your strength. Let 
others deal with these irksome guests. Your meat is about to be set on the 
board. Will you not go to it?' 

'I will,' said Thjoden. 'And let food for my guests be set on the board 
beside me. The host rides today. Send the heralds forth! Let them summon all 
who dwell nigh! Every man and strong lad able to bear arms, all who have 
horses, let them be ready in the saddle at the gate ere the second hour from 
noon!' 

'Dear lord!' cried Wormtongue. 'It is as I feared. This wizard has 
bewitched you. Are none to be left to defend the Golden Hall of your 
fathers, and all your treasure? None to guard the Lord of the Mark?' 

'If this is bewitchment,' said Thjoden, 'it seems to me more wholesome 
than your whisperings. Your leechcraft ere long would have had me walking on 
all fours like a beast. No, not one shall be left, not even Grnma. Grnma 
shall ride too. Go! You have yet time to clean the rust from your sword.' 

'Mercy, lord!' whined Wormtongue, grovelling on the ground. 'Have pity 
on one worn out in your service. Send me not from your side! I at least will 




stand by you when all others have gone. Do not send your faithful Grnma 
away!' 

'You have my pity,' said Thjoden. 'And I do not send you from my side. 

I go myself to war with my men. I bid you come with me and prove your 
faith.' 

Wormtongue looked from face to face. In his eyes was the hunted look of 
a beast seeking some gap in the ring of his enemies. He licked his lips with 
a long pale tongue. 'Such a resolve might be expected from a lord of the 
House of Eorl, old though he be,' he said. 'But those who truly love him 
would spare his failing years. Yet I see that I come too late. Others, whom 
the death of my lord would perhaps grieve less, have already persuaded him. 

If I cannot undo their work, hear me at least in this, lord! One who knows 
your mind and honours your commands should be left in Edoras. Appoint a 
faithful steward. Let your counsellor Grnma keep all things till your 
return-and I pray that we may see it, though no wise man will deem it 
hopeful.' 

Jomer laughed. 'And if that plea does not excuse you from war, most 
noble Wormtongue,' he said, what office of less honour would you accept? To 
carry a sack of meal up into the mountains-if any man would trust you with 
it?' 

'Nay, Jomer, you do not fully understand the mind of Master 
Wormtongue,' said Gandalf, turning his piercing glance upon him. 'He is bold 
and cunning. Even now he plays a game with peril and wins a throw. Hours of 
my precious time he has wasted already. 'Down snake!' he said suddenly in a 
terrible voice. 'Down on your belly! How long is it since Saruman bought 
you? What was the promised price? When all the men were dead, you were to 
pick your share of the treasure, and take the woman you desire? Too long 
have you watched her under your eyelids and haunted her steps.' 

Jomer grasped his sword. 'That I knew already,' he muttered. 'For that 
reason I would have slain him before, forgetting the law of the hall. But 
there are other reasons.' He stepped forward, but Gandalf stayed him with 
his hand. 

'Jowyn is safe now,' he said. 'But you, Wormtongue, you have done what 
you could for your true master. Some reward you have earned at least. Yet 
Saruman is apt to overlook his bargains. I should advise you to go quickly 
and remind him, lest he forget your faithful service.' 

'You lie,' said Wormtongue. 




'That word comes too oft and easy from your lips,' said Gandalf. ’I do 
not lie. See, Thjoden, here is a snake! With safety you cannot take it with 
you, nor can you leave it behind. To slay it would be just. But it was not 
always as it now is. Once it was a man, and did you service in its fashion. 
Give him a horse and let him go at once, wherever he chooses. By his choice 
you shall judge him.’ 

'Do you hear this, Wormtongue?' said Thjoden. 'This is your choice: to 
ride with me to war, and let us see in battle whether you are true; or to go 
now, whither you will. But then, if ever we meet again, I shall not be 
merciful.' 

Slowly Wormtongue rose. He looked at them with half-closed eyes. Last 
of all he scanned Thjoden's face and opened his mouth as if to speak. Then 
suddenly he drew himself up. His hands worked. His eyes glittered. Such 
malice was in them that men stepped back from him. He bared his teeth; and 
then with a hissing breath he spat before the king's feet, and darting to 
one side, he fled down the stair. 

'After him!' said Thjoden. 'See that he does no harm to any, but do not 
hurt him or hinder him. Give him a horse, if he wishes it.' 

'And if any will bear him,' said Jomer. 

One of the guards ran down the stair. Another went to the well at the 
foot of the terrace and in his helm drew water. With it he washed clean the 
stones that Wormtongue had defiled. 

'Now my guests, come!' said Thjoden. 'Come and take such refreshment as 
haste allows.' 

They passed back into the great house. Already they heard below them in 
the town the heralds crying and the war -horns blowing. For the king was to 
ride forth as soon as the men of the town and those dwelling near could be 
armed and assembled. 

At the king's board sat Jomer and the four guests, and there also 
waiting upon the king was the lady Jowyn. They ate and drank swiftly. The 
others were silent while Thjoden questioned Gandalf concerning Saruman. 

'How far back his treachery goes, who can guess?' said Gandalf. 'He was 
not always evil. Once I do not doubt that he was the friend of Rohan; and 
even when his heart grew colder, he found you useful still. But for long now 
he has plotted your ruin, wearing the mask of Friendship, until he was 
ready. In those years Wormtongue's task was easy, and all that you did was 
swiftly known in Isengard; for your land was open, and strangers came and 




went. And ever Wormtongue's whispering was in your ears, poisoning your 
thought, chilling your heart, weakening your limbs, while others watched and 
could do nothing, for your will was in his keeping. 

'But when I escaped and warned you, then the mask was torn, for those 
who would see. After that Wormtongue played dangerously, always seeking 
to 

delay you, to prevent your full strength being gathered. He was crafty: 
dulling men's wariness, or working on their fears, as served the occasion. 

Do you not remember how eagerly he urged that no man should be spared on 
a 

wildgoose chase northward, when the immediate peril was westward? He 
persuaded you to forbid Jomer to pursue the raiding Ores. If Jomer had not 
defied Wormtongue's voice speaking with your mouth, those Ores would 
have 

reached Isengard by now, bearing a great prize. Not indeed that prize which 
Saruman desires above all else, but at the least two members of my Company, 
sharers of a secret hope, of which even to you, lord, I cannot yet speak 
openly. Dare you think of what they might now be suffering, or what Saruman 
might now have learned to our destruction?' 

'I owe much to Jomer,' said Thjoden. 'Faithful heart may have forward 
tongue.' 'Say also,' said Gandalf, 'that to crooked eyes truth may wear a 
wry face.' 

'Indeed my eyes were almost blind,' said Thjoden. 'Most of all I owe to 
you, my guest. Once again you have come in time. I would give you a gift ere 
we go, at your own choosing. You have only to name aught that is mine. I 
reserve now only my sword!' 

'Whether I came in time or not is yet to be seen,' said Gandalf. 'But 
as for your gift, lord, I will choose one that will fit my need: swift and 
sure. Give me Shadowfax! He was only lent before, if loan we may call it. 
But now shall ride him into great hazard, setting silver against black: I 
would not risk anything that is not my own. And already there is a bond of 
love between us.' 

'You choose well,' said Thjoden; 'and I give him now gladly. Yet it is 
a great gift. There is none like to Shadowfax. In him one of the mighty 
steeds of old has returned. None such shall return again. And to you my 
other guests I will offer such things as may be found in my armoury. Swords 
you do not need, but there are helms and coats of mail of cunning work, 




gifts to my fathers out of Gondor. Choose from these ere we go, and may they 
serve you well!' 

Now men came bearing raiment of war from the king's hoard and they 
arrayed Aragorn and Legolas in shining mail. Helms too they chose, and round 
shields: their bosses were overlaid with gold and set with gems, green and 
red and white. Gandalf took no armour; and Gimli needed no coat of rings, 
even if one had been found to match his stature, for there was no hauberk in 
the hoards of Edoras of better make than his short corslet forged beneath 
the Mountain in the North. But he chose a cap of iron and leather that 
fitted well upon his round head; and a small shield he also took. It bore 
the running horse, white upon green, that was the emblem of the House of 
Eorl. 

'May it keep you well!' said Thjoden. 'It was made for me in Thengel's 
day, while still I was a boy.' 

Gimli bowed. 'I am proud, Lord of the Mark, to bear your device,' he 
said. 'Indeed sooner would I bear a horse than be borne by one. I love my 
feet better. But, maybe, I shall come yet where I can stand and fight.' 

'It may well be so,' said Thjoden. 

The king now rose, and at once Jowyn came forward bearing wine. 'Ferthu 
Thjoden hbl!' she said. 'Receive now this cup and drink in happy hour. 
Health be with thee at thy going and coming!' 

Thjoden drank from the cup, and she then proffered it to the guests. As 
she stood before Aragorn she paused suddenly and looked upon him, and her 
eyes were shining. And he looked down upon her fair face and smiled; but as 
he took the cup, his hand met hers, and he knew that she trembled at the 
touch. 'Hail Aragorn son of Arathorn!' she said. 'Hail Lady of Rohan!' he 
answered, but his face now was troubled and he did not smile. 

When they had all drunk, the king went down the hall to the doors. 

There the guards awaited him, and heralds stood, and all the lords and 
chiefs were gathered together that remained in Edoras or dwelt nearby. 

'Behold! I go forth, and it seems like to be my last riding,' said 
Thjoden. 'I have no child. Thjodred my son is slain. I name Jomer my 
sister-son to be my heir. If neither of us return, then choose a new lord as 
you will. But to some one I must now entrust my people that I leave behind, 
to rule them in my place. Which of you will stay?' 

No man spoke. 

'Is there none whom you would name? In whom do my people trust?' 




'In the House of Eorl,' answered Hbma. 

'But Jomer I cannot spare, nor would he stay,' said the king; 'and he 
is the last of that House.' 

'I said not Jomer,' answered Hbma. 'And he is not the last. There is 
Jowyn, daughter of Jomund, his sister. She is fearless and high-hearted. All 
love her. Let her be as lord to the Eorlingas, while we are gone.' 

'It shall be so,' said Thjoden. 'Let the heralds announce to the folk 
that the Lady Jowyn will lead them!' 

Then the king sat upon a seat before his doors, and Jowyn knelt before 
him and received from him a sword and a fair corslet. 'Larewell 
sister-daughter!' he said. 'Dark is the hour, yet maybe we shall return to 
the Golden Hall. But in Dunharrow the people may long defend themselves, 
and 

if the battle go ill, thither will come all who escape.' 'Speak not so!' she 
answered. 'A year shall I endure for every day that passes until your 
return.' But as she spoke her eyes went to Aragorn who stood nearby. 

'The king shall come again,' he said. 'Lear not! Not West but East does 
our doom await us.' 

The king now went down the stair with Gandalf beside him. The others 
followed. Aragorn looked back as they passed towards the gate. Alone Jowyn 
stood before the doors of the house at the stair's head; the sword was set 
upright before her, and her hands were laid upon the hilt. She was clad now 
in mail and shone like silver in the sun. 

Gimli walked with Legolas. his axe on his shoulder. 'Well, at last we 
set off!' he said. 'Men need many words before deeds. My axe is restless in 
my hands. Though I doubt not that these Rohirrim are fell -handed when they 
come to it. Nonetheless this is not the warfare that suits me. How shall I 
come to the battle? I wish I could walk and not bump like a sack at 
Gandalf 's saddlebow.' 

'A safer seat than many, I guess,' said Legolas. 'Yet doubtless Gandalf 
will gladly put you down on your feet when blows begin; or Shadowfax 
himself. An axe is no weapon for a rider.' 

'And a Dwarf is no horseman. It is ore-necks I would hew, not shave the 
scalps of Men,' said Gimli, patting the haft of his axe. 

At the gate they found a great host of men, old and young, all ready in 
the saddle. More than a thousand were there mustered. Their spears were like 
a springing wood. Loudly and joyously they shouted as Thjoden came forth. 




Some held in readiness the king's horse, Snowmane, and others held the 
horses of Aragorn and Legolas. Gimli stood ill at ease, frowning, but Jomer 
came up to him, leading his horse. 

’Hail, Gimli Gluin’s son!’ he cried. ’I have not had time to learn 
gentle speech under your rod, as you promised. But shall we not put aside 
our quarrel? At least I will speak no evil again of the Lady of the Wood.’ 

’I will forget my wrath for a while, Jomer son of Jomund,' said Gimli; 

'but if ever you chance to see the Lady Galadriel with your eyes, then you 
shall acknowledge her the fairest of ladies, or our friendship will end.' 

'So be it!’ said Jomer. 'But until that time pardon me, and in token of 
pardon ride with me, I beg. Gandalf will be at the head with the Lord of the 
Mark; but Firefoot, my horse, will bear us both, if you will.' 

'I thank you indeed,' said Gimli greatly pleased. 'I will gladly go 
with you, if Legolas, my comrade, may ride beside us.' 

'It shall he so,' said Jomer. 'Legolas upon my left, and Aragorn upon 
my right, and none will dare to stand before us!' 

'Where is Shadowfax?' said Gandalf. 

'Running wild over the grass,' they answered. 'He will let no man 
handle him. There he goes, away down by the ford, like a shadow among the 
willows.' 

Gandalf whistled and called aloud the horse's name, and far away he 
tossed his head and neighed, and turning sped towards the host like an 
arrow. 

'Were the breath of the West Wind to take a body visible, even so would 
it appear,' said Jomer, as the great horse ran up, until he stood before the 
wizard. 

'The gift seems already to be given,' said Thjoden. 'But hearken all! 

Here now I name my guest, Gandalf Greyhame, wisest of counsellors; most 
welcome of wanderers, a lord of the Mark, a chieftain of the Eorlingas while 
our kin shall last; and I give to him Shadowfax, prince of horses.' 

'I thank you, Thjoden King,' said Gandalf. Then suddenly he threw back 
his grey cloak, and cast aside his hat, and leaped to horseback. He wore no 
helm nor mail. His snowy hair flew free in the wind, his white robes shone 
dazzling in the sun. 

'Behold the White Rider!' cried Aragorn, and all took up the words. 

'Our King and the White Rider!' they shouted. 'Forth Eorlingas!' 

The trumpets sounded. The horses reared and neighed. Spear clashed on 




shield. Then the king raised his hand, and with a rush like the sudden onset 
of a great wind the last host of Rohan rode thundering into the West. Far 
over the plain Jowyn saw the glitter of their spears, as she stood still, 
alone before the doors of the silent house. 




Chapter 7. Helm's Deep 



The sun was already westering as they rode from Edoras, and the light 
of it was in their eyes, turning all the rolling fields of Rohan to a golden 
haze. There was a beaten way, north-westward along the foot-hills of the 
White Mountains, and this they followed, up and down in a green country, 
crossing small swift streams by many fords. Far ahead and to their right the 
Misty Mountains loomed; ever darker and taller they grew as the miles went 
by. The sun went slowly down before them. Evening came behind. 

The host rode on. Need drove them. Fearing to come too late, they rode 
with all the speed they could, pausing seldom. Swift and enduring were the 
steeds of Rohan, but there were many leagues to go. Forty leagues and more 
it was, as a bird flies, from Edoras to the fords of the Isen, where they 
hoped to find the king’s men that held back the hosts of Saruman. 

Night closed about them. At last they halted to make their camp. They 
had ridden for some five hours and were far out upon the western plain, yet 
more than half their journey lay still before them. In a great circle, under 
the starry sky and the waxing moon, they now made their bivouac. They lit no 
fires, for they were uncertain of events; but they set a ring of mounted 
guards about them, and scouts rode out far ahead, passing like shadows in 
the folds of the land. The slow night passed without tidings or alarm. At 
dawn the horns sounded, and within an hour they took the road again. 

There were no clouds overhead yet, but a heaviness was in the air; it 
was hot for the season of the year. The rising sun was hazy, and behind it, 
following it slowly up the sky, there was a growing darkness, as of a great 
storm moving out of the East. And away in the North-west there seemed to be 
another darkness brooding about the feet of the Misty Mountains, a shadow 
that crept down slowly from the Wizard's Vale. 

Gandalf dropped back to where Legolas rode beside Jomer. ’You have the 
keen eyes of your fair kindred, Legolas,’ he said; ’and they can tell a 
sparrow from a finch a league off. Tell me, can you sec anything away yonder 
towards Isengard?’ 

’Many miles lie between,’ said Legolas, gazing thither and shading his 
eyes with his long hand. ’I can see a darkness. There are shapes moving in 
it, great shapes far away upon the bank of the river; but what they are I 




cannot tell. It is not mist or cloud that defeats my eyes: there is a 
veiling shadow that some power lays upon the land, and it marches slowly 
down stream. It is as if the twilight under endless trees were flowing 
downwards from the hills.' 

'And behind us comes a very storm of Mordor,' said Gandalf. 'It will be 
a black night.' 

As the second day of their riding drew on, the heaviness in the air 
increased. In the afternoon the dark clouds began to overtake them: a sombre 
canopy with great billowing edges flecked with dazzling light. The sun went 
down, blood-red in a smoking haze. The spears of the Riders were tipped with 
fire as the last shafts of light kindled the steep faces of the peaks of 
Thrihyrne: now very near they stood on the northernmost arm of the White 
Mountains, three jagged horns staring at the sunset. In the last red glow 
men in the vanguard saw a black speck, a horseman riding back towards them. 
They halted awaiting him. 

He came, a weary man with dinted helm and cloven shield. Slowly he 
climbed from his horse and stood there a while gasping. At length he spoke. 

'Is Jomer here?' he asked. 'You come at last, but too late, and with too 
little strength. Things have gone evilly since Thjodred fell. We were driven 
back yesterday over the Isen with great loss; many perished at the crossing. 
Then at night fresh forces came over the river against our camp. All 
Isengard must be emptied; and Saruman has armed the wild hillmen and 
herd-folk of Dunland beyond the rivers, and these also he loosed upon us. We 
were overmastered. The shield- wall was broken. Erkenbrand of Westfold has 
drawn off those men he could gather towards his fastness in Helm's Deep. The 
rest are scattered. 

'Where is Jomer? Tell him there is no hope ahead. He should return to 
Edoras before the wolves of Isengard come there.' Thjoden had sat silent, 
hidden from the man's sight behind his guards; now he urged his horse 
forward. 'Come, stand before me, Ceorl!' he said. 'I am here. The last host 
of the Eorlingas has ridden forth. It will not return without battle.' 

The man's face lightened with joy and wonder. He drew himself up. Then 
he knelt, offering his notched sword to the king. 'Command me, lord!' he 
cried. 'And pardon me! I thought—' 

'You thought I remained in Meduseld bent like an old tree under winter 
snow. So it was when you rode to war. But a west wind has shaken the 
boughs,' said Thjoden. 'Give this man a fresh horse! Let us ride to the help 




of Erkenbrand!' 

While Thjoden was speaking, Gandalf rode a short way ahead, and he sat 
there alone, gazing north to Isengard and west to the setting sun. Now he 
came back. 

'Ride, Thjoden!' he said. 'Ride to Helm's Deep! Go not to the Fords of 
Isen, and do not tarry in the plain! I must leave you for a while. Shadowfax 
must bear me now on a swift errand.' Turning to Aragorn and Jomer and the 
men of the king's household, he cried: 'Keep well the Lord of the Mark, till 
I return. Await me at Helm's Gate! Farewell!' 

He spoke a word to Shadowfax, and like an arrow from the bow the great 
horse sprang away. Even as they looked he was gone: a flash of silver in the 
sunset, a wind over the grass, a shadow that fled and passed from sight. 
Snowmane snorted and reared, eager to follow; but only a swift bird on the 
wing could have overtaken him. 

'What does that mean?' said one of the guard to Hbma. 

'That Gandalf Greyhame has need of haste,' answered Hbma. 'Ever he goes 
and comes unlooked-for:' 

'Wormtongue, were he here, would not find it hard to explain 'Said the 
other. 

'True enough,' said Hbma; 'but for myself, I will wait until I see 
Gandalf again.' 

'Maybe you will wait long,' said the other. 

The host turned away now from the road to the Fords of Isen and bent 
their course southward. Night fell, and still they rode on. The hills drew 
near, but the tall peaks of Thrihyrne were already dim against the darkening 
sky. Still some miles away, on the far side of the Westfold Vale, lay a 
green coomb, a great bay in the mountains, out of which a gorge opened in 
the hills. Men of that land called it Helm's Deep, after a hero of old wars 
who had made his refuge there. Ever steeper and narrower it wound inward 
from the north under the shadow of the Thrihyrne, till the crow-haunted 
cliffs rose like mighty towers on either side, shutting out the light. 

At Helm's Gate, before the mouth of the Deep, there was a heel of rock 
thrust outward by the northern cliff. There upon its spur stood high walls 
of ancient stone, and within them was a lofty tower. Men said that in the 
far-off days of the glory of Gondor the sea-kings had built here this 
fastness with the hands of giants. The Hornburg it was called, for a trumpet 
sounded upon the tower echoed in the Deep behind, as if armies 




long -forgotten were issuing to war from caves beneath the hills. A wall, 
too, the men of old had made from the Hornburg to the southern cliff, 
barring the entrance to the gorge. Beneath it by a wide culvert the 
Deeping-stream passed out. About the feet of the Hornrock it wound, and 
flowed then in a gully through the midst of a wide green gore, sloping 
gently down from Helm's Gate to Helm's Dike. Thence it fell into the 
Deeping-coomb and out into the Westfold Vale. There in the Hornburg at 
Helm's Gate Erkenbrand, master of Westfold on the borders of the Mark, now 
dwelt. As the days darkened with threat of war, being wise, he had repaired 
the wall and made the fastness strong. 

The Riders were still in the low valley before the mouth of the Coomb, 
when cries and hornblasts were heard from their scouts that went in front. 

Out of the darkness arrows whistled. Swiftly a scout rode back and reported 
that wolf-riders were abroad in the valley, and that a host of Ores and wild 
men were hurrying southward from the Fords of Isen and seemed to be 
making 

for Helm's Deep. 

'We have found many of our folk lying slain as they fled thither,' said 
the scout. 'And we have met scattered companies, going this way and that, 
leaderless. What has become of Erkenbrand none seem to know. It is likely 
that he will be overtaken ere he can reach Helm's Gate, if he has not 
already perished.' 

'Has aught been seen of Gandalf?' asked Thjoden. 

'Yes, lord. Many have seen an old man in white upon a horse, passing 
hither and thither over the plains like wind in the grass. Some thought he 
was Saruman. It is said that he went away ere nightfall towards Isengard. 
Some say also that Wormtongue was seen earlier, going northward with a 
company of Ores.' 

'It will go ill with Wormtongue, if Gandalf comes upon him said 
Thjoden. 'Nonetheless I miss now both my counsellors, the old and the new. 
But in this need we have no better choice than to go on, as Gandalf said, to 
Helm's Gate, whether Erkenbrand be there or no. Is it known how great is the 
host that comes from the North?' 

'It is very great,' said the scout. 'He that flies counts every foeman 
twice, yet I have spoken to stouthearted men, and I do not doubt that the 
main strength of the enemy is many times as great as all that we have here.' 

'Then let us be swift,' said Jomer. 'Let us drive through such foes as 




are already between us and the fastness. There are caves in Helm's Deep 
where hundreds may lie hid; and secret ways lead thence up on to the hills. 

Trust not to secret ways,' said the king. ’Saruman has long spied out 
this land. Still in that place our defence may last long. Let us go!' 

Aragorn and Legolas went now with Jomer in the van. On through the dark 
night they rode, ever slower as the darkness deepened and their way climbed 
southward, higher and higher into the dim folds about the mountains' feet. 
They found few of the enemy before them. Here and there they came upon 
roving bands of Ores; but they fled ere the Riders could take or slay them. 

'It will not be long I fear,' said Jomer, 'ere the coming of the king's 
host will be known to the leader of our enemies, Saruman or whatever captain 
he has sent forth.' 

The rumour of war grew behind them. Now they could hear, borne over the 
dark, the sound of harsh singing. They had climbed far up into the 
Deeping-coomb when they looked back. Then they saw torches countless 
points 

of fiery light upon the black fields behind, scattered like red flowers, or 
winding up from the lowlands in long flickering lines. Here and there a 
larger blaze leapt up. 

'It is a great host and follows us hard,' said Aragorn. 

'They bring fire,' said Thjoden, 'and they are burning as they come, 
rick, cot, and tree. This was a rich vale and had many homesteads. Alas for 
my folk!' 

'Would that day was here and we might ride down upon them like a storm 
out of the mountains!' said Aragorn. 'It grieves me to fly before them.' 

'We need not fly much further,' said Jomer. 'Not far ahead now lies 
Helm's Dike, an ancient trench and rampart scored across the coomb, two 
furlongs below Helm's Gate. There we can turn and give battle.' 

'Nay, we are too few to defend the Dike,' said Thjoden. 'It is a mile 
long or more, and the breach in it is wide.' 

'At the breach our rearguard must stand, if we are pressed,' said 
Jomer. 

There was neither star nor moon when the Riders came to the breach in 
the Dike, where the stream from above passed out, and the road beside it ran 
down from the Hornburg. The rampart loomed suddenly before them, a high 
shadow beyond a dark pit. As they rode up a sentinel challenged them. 

'The Lord of the Mark rides to Helm's Gate,' Jomer answered. 'I, Jomer 




son of Jomund, speak.' 

This is good tidings beyond hope,' said the sentinel. 'Hasten! The 
enemy is on your heels.' 

The host passed through the breach and halted on the sloping sward 
above. They now learned to their joy that Erkenbrand had left many men to 
hold Helm's Gate, and more had since escaped thither. 

'Maybe, we have a thousand fit to fight on foot,' said Gamling, an old 
man, the leader of those that watched the Dike. 'But most of them have seen 
too many winters, as I have, or too few, as my son's son here. What news of 
Erkenbrand? Word came yesterday that he was retreating hither with all that 
is left of the best Riders of Westfold. But he has not come.' 

'I fear that he will not come now,' said Jomer. 'Our scouts have gained 
no news of him, and the enemy fills all the valley behind us.' 

'I would that he had escaped,' said Thjoden. 'He was a mighty man. In 
him lived again the valour of Helm the Hammerhand. But we cannot await 
him 

here. We must draw all our forces now behind the walls. Are you well stored? 
We bring little provision, for we rode forth to open battle, not to a 
siege.' 

'Behind us in the caves of the Deep are three parts of the folk of 
Westfold, old and young, children and women,' said Gamling. 'But great store 
of food, and many beasts and their fodder, have also been gathered there.' 

'That is well,' said Jomer. 'They are burning or despoiling all that is 
left in the vale.' 

'If they come to bargain for our goods at Helm's Gate, they will pay a 
high price,' said Gamling. 

The king and his Riders passed on. Before the causeway that crossed the 
stream they dismounted. In a long file they led their horses up the ramp and 
passed within the gates of the Hornburg. There they were welcomed again with 
joy and renewed hope; for now there were men enough to man both the burg 
and 

the barrier wall. 

Quickly Jomer set his men in readiness. The king and the men of his 
household were in the Hornburg, and there also were many of the 
Westfold-men. But on the Deeping Wall and its tower, and behind it, Jomer 
arrayed most of the strength that he had, for here the defence seemed more 
doubtful, if the assault were determined and in great force. The horses were 




led far up the Deep under such guard as could be spared. 

The Deeping Wall was twenty feet high, and so thick that four men could 
walk abreast along the top, sheltered by a parapet over which only a tall 
man could look. Here and there were clefts in the stone through which men 
could shoot. This battlement could be reached by a stair running down from a 
door in the outer court of the Hornburg; three flights of steps led also up 
on to the wall from the Deep behind; but in front it was smooth, and the 
great stones of it were set with such skill that no foothold could be found 
at their joints, and at the top they hung over like a sea-delved cliff. 

Gimli stood leaning against the breastwork upon the wall. Legolas sat 
above on the parapet, fingering his bow, and peering out into the gloom. 

This is more to my liking,' said the dwarf, stamping on the stones. 

'Ever my heart rises as we draw near the mountains. There is good rock here. 
This country has tough bones. I felt them in my feet as we came up from the 
dike. Give me a year and a hundred of my kin and I would make this a place 
that armies would break upon like water.’ 

’I do not doubt it,' said Legolas. 'But you are a dwarf, and dwarves 
are strange folk. I do not like this place, and I shall like it no more by 
the light of day. But you comfort me, Gimli, and I am glad to have you 
standing nigh with your stout legs and your hard axe. I wish there were more 
of your kin among us. But even more would I give for a hundred good archers 
of Mirkwood. We shall need them. The Rohirrim have good bowmen after 
their 

fashion, but there are too few here, too few.' 

'It is dark for archery,' said Gimli. 'Indeed it is time for sleep. 

Sleep! I feel the need of it, as never I thought any dwarf could. Riding is 
tiring work. Yet my axe is restless in my hand. Give me a row of ore-necks 
and room to swing and all weariness will fall from me!' 

A slow time passed. Far down in the valley scattered fires still 
burned. The hosts of Isengard were advancing in silence now. Their torches 
could be seen winding up the coomb in many lines. 

Suddenly from the Dike yells and screams, and the fierce battle-cries 
of men broke out. Flaming brands appeared over the brink and clustered 
thickly at the breach. Then they scattered and vanished. Men came galloping 
back over the field and up the ramp to the gate of the Hornburg. The 
rearguard of the Westfolders had been driven in. 

'The enemy is at hand!' they said. 'We loosed every arrow that we had, 




and filled the Dike with Ores. But it will not halt them long. Already they 
are scaling the bank at many points, thick as marching ants. But we have 
taught them not to carry torches.' 

It was now past midnight. The sky was utterly dark, and the stillness 
of the heavy air foreboded storm. Suddenly the clouds were seared by a 
blinding flash. Branched lightning smote down upon the eastward hills. For a 
staring moment the watchers on the walls saw all the space between them and 
the Dike lit with white light: it was boiling and crawling with black 
shapes, some squat and broad, some tall and grim, with high helms and sable 
shields. Hundreds and hundreds more were pouring over the Dike and through 
the breach. The dark tide flowed up to the walls from cliff to cliff. 

Thunder rolled in the valley. Rain came lashing down. 

Arrows thick as the rain came whistling over the battlements, and fell 
clinking and glancing on the stones. Some found a mark. The assault on 
Helm's Deep had begun, but no sound or challenge was heard within; no 
answering arrows came. 

The assailing hosts halted, foiled by the silent menace of rock and 
wall. Ever and again the lightning tore aside the darkness. Then the Ores 
screamed, waving spear and sword, and shooting a cloud of arrows at any that 
stood revealed upon the battlements; and the men of the Mark amazed looked 
out, as it seemed to them, upon a great field of dark corn, tossed by a 
tempest of war, and every ear glinted with barbed light. 

Brazen trumpets sounded. The enemy surged forward, some against the 
Deeping Wall, other towards the causeway and the ramp that led up to the 
Hornburg-gates. There the hugest Ores were mustered, and the wild men of the 
Dunland fells. A moment they hesitated and then on they came. The lightning 
flashed, and blazoned upon every helm and shield the ghastly hand of 
Isengard was seen: They reached the summit of the rock; they drove towards 
the gates. 

Then at last an answer came: a storm of arrows met them, and a hail of 
stones. They wavered, broke, and fled back; and then charged again, broke 
and charged again; and each time, like the incoming sea, they halted at a 
higher point. Again trumpets rang, and a press of roaring men leaped forth. 
They held their great shields above them like a roof, while in their midst 
they bore two trunks of mighty trees. Behind them ore-archers crowded, 
sending a hail of darts against the bowmen on the walls. They gained the 
gates. The trees, swung by strong arms, smote the timbers with a rending 




boom. If any man fell, crushed by a stone hurtling from above, two others 
sprang to take his place. Again and again the great rams swung and crashed. 

Jomer and Aragorn stood together on the Deeping Wall. They heard the 
roar of voices and the thudding of the rams; and then in a sudden flash of 
light they beheld the peril of the gates. 

'Come!' said Aragorn. 'This is the hour when we draw swords together!' 

Running like fire, they sped along the wall, and up the steps, and 
passed into the outer court upon the Rock. As they ran they gathered a 
handful of stout swordsmen. There was a small postern-door that opened in an 
angle of the burg- wall on the west, where the cliff stretched out to meet 
it. On that side a narrow path ran round towards the great gate, between the 
wall and the sheer brink of the Rock. Together Jomer and Aragorn sprang 
through the door, their men close behind. The swords flashed from the sheath 
as one. 

'G®thwinl!' cried Jomer. 'G®thwinl for the Mark!' 

'And®ril!' cried Aragorn. 'And®ril for the D®nedain!' 

Charging from the side, they hurled themselves upon the wild men. 
And®ril rose and fell, gleaming with white fire. A shout went up from wall 
and tower: 'And®ril! And®ril goes to war. The Blade that was Broken shines 
again!' 

Dismayed the rammers let fall the trees and turned to fight; but the 
wall of their shields was broken as by a lightning-stroke, and they were 
swept away, hewn down, or cast over the Rock into the stony stream below. 
The ore-archers shot wildly and then fled. 

For a moment Jomer and Aragorn halted before the gates. The thunder was 
rumbling in the distance now. The lightning flickered still, far off among 
the mountains in the South. A keen wind was blowing from the North again. 
The clouds were torn and drifting, and stars peeped out; and above the hills 
of the Coomb-side the westering moon rode, glimmering yellow in the 
storm-wrack. 

'We did not come too soon,' said Aragorn, looking at the gates. Their 
great hinges and iron bars were wrenched and bent; many of their timbers 
were cracked. 

'Yet we cannot stay here beyond the walls to defend them,' said Jomer. 
'Look!' He pointed to the causeway. Already a great press of Ores and Men 
were gathering again beyond the stream. Arrows whined, and skipped on the 
stones about them. 'Come! We must get back and see what we can do to pile 




stone and beam across the gates within. Come now!' 

They turned and ran. At that moment some dozen Ores that had lain 
motionless among the slain leaped to their feet, and came silently and 
swiftly behind. Two flung themselves to the ground at Jomer's heels, tripped 
him, and in a moment they were on top of him. But a small dark figure that 
none had observed sprang out of the shadows and gave a hoarse shout: Baruk 
Khazvd! Khazvd ai-mknu! An axe swung and swept back. Two Ores fell 
headless. 

The rest fled. 

Jomer struggled to his feet, even as Aragorn ran back to his aid. 

The postern was closed again, the iron door was barred and piled inside 
with stones. When all were safe within, Jomer turned: ’I thank you, Gimli 
son of Gluin!' he said. ’I did not know that you were with us in the sortie. 

But oft the unbidden guest proves the best company. How came you there?’ 

’I followed you to shake off sleep,’ said Gimli; 'but I looked on the 
hillmen and they seemed over large for me, so I sat beside a stone to see 
your sword-play.’ 

’I shall not find it easy to repay you,’ said Jomer. 

’There may be many a chance ere the night is over,’ laughed the Dwarf. 

’But I am content. Till now I have hewn naught but wood since I left Moria.’ 

’Two!’ said Gimli, patting his axe. He had returned to his place on the 
wall. 

’Two?’ said Legolas. ’I have done better, though now I must grope for 
spent arrows; all mine are gone. Yet I make my tale twenty at the least. But 
that is only a few leaves in a forest.’ 

The sky now was quickly clearing and the sinking moon was shining 
brightly. But the light brought little hope to the Riders of the Mark. The 
enemy before them seemed to have grown rather than diminished, still more 
were pressing up from the valley through the breach. The sortie upon the 
Rock gained only a brief respite. The assault on the gates was redoubled. 
Against the Deeping Wall the hosts of Isengard roared like a sea. Ores and 
hillmen swarmed about its feet from end to end. Ropes with grappling hooks 
were hurled over the parapet faster than men could cut them or fling them 
back. Hundreds of long ladders were lifted up. Many were cast down in ruin, 
but many more replaced them, and Ores sprang up them like apes in the dark 
forests of the South. Before the wall’s foot the dead and broken were piled 
like shingle in a storm; ever higher rose the hideous mounds, and still the 




enemy came on. 

The men of Rohan grew weary. All their arrows were spent, and every 
shaft was shot; their swords were notched, and their shields were riven. 
Three times Aragorn and Jomer rallied them, and three times And®ril flamed 
in a desperate charge that drove the enemy from the wall. 

Then a clamour arose in the Deep behind. Ores had crept like rats 
through the culvert through which the stream flowed out. There they had 
gathered in the shadow of the cliffs, until the assault above was hottest 
and nearly all the men of the defence had rushed to the wall's top. Then 
they sprang out. Already some had passed into the jaws of the Deep and were 
among the horses, fighting with the guards. 

Down from the wall leapt Gimli with a fierce cry that echoed in the 
cliffs. 'Khazvd! Khazvd!' He soon had work enough. 

'Ai-oi!' he shouted. 'The Ores are behind the wall. Ai-oi! Come, 
Legolas! There are enough for us both. Khazvd ai-mknu!' 

Gamling the Old looked down from the Hornburg, hearing the great voice 
of the dwarf above all the tumult. 'The Ores are in the Deep!' he cried. 
'Helm! Helm! Forth Helmingas. he shouted as he leaped down the stair from 
the Rock with many men of Westfold at his back. 

Their onset was fierce and sudden, and the Ores gave way before them. 
Ere long they were hemmed in in the narrows of the gorge, and all were slain 
or driven shrieking into the chasm of the Deep to fall before the guardians 
of the hidden caves. 

'Twenty -one!' cried Gimli. He hewed a two-handed stroke and laid the 
last Ore before his feet. 'Now my count passes Master Legolas again.' 

'We must stop this rat-hole,' said Gamling. 'Dwarves are said to be 
cunning folk with stone. Lend us your aid, master!' 

'We do not shape stone with battle-axes, nor with our finger-nails,' 
said Gimli. 'But I will help as I may.' 

They gathered such small boulders and broken stones as they could find 
to hand, and under Gimli's direction the Westfold-men blocked up the inner 
end of the culvert, until only a narrow outlet remained. Then the 
Deeping-stream, swollen by the rain, churned and fretted in its choked path, 
and spread slowly in cold pools from cliff to cliff. 

'It will be drier above,' said Gimli. 'Come, Gamling, let us see how 
things go on the wall!' 

He climbed up and found Legolas beside Aragorn and Jomer. The elf was 




whetting his long knife. There was for a while a lull in the assault, since 
the attempt to break in through the culvert had been foiled. 

'Twenty-one!' said Gimli. 

'Good!' said Legolas. 'But my count is now two dozen. It has been 
knife- work up here.' 

Jomer and Aragorn leant wearily on their swords. Away on the left the 
crash and clamour of the battle on the Rock rose loud again. But the 
Hornburg still held fast, like an island in the sea. Its gates lay in ruin; 
but over the barricade of beams and stones within no enemy as yet had 
passed. 

Aragorn looked at the pale stars, and at the moon, now sloping behind 
the western hills that enclosed the valley. 'This is a night as long as 
years,' he said. 'How long will the day tarry?' 

'Dawn is not far off,' said Gamling, who had now climbed up beside him. 
'But dawn will not help us, I fear.' 

'Yet dawn is ever the hope of men,' said Aragorn. 

'But these creatures of Isengard, these half-ores and goblin-men that 
the foul craft of Saruman has bred, they will not quail at the sun,' said 
Gamling. 'And neither will the wild men of the hills. Do you not hear their 
voices?' 

'I hear them,' said Jomer; 'but they are only the scream of birds and 
the bellowing of beasts to my ears.' 

'Yet there are many that cry in the Dunland tongue,' said Gamling. 'I 
know that tongue. It is an ancient speech of men, and once was spoken in 
many western valleys of the Mark. Hark! They hate us, and they are glad; for 
our doom seems certain to them. 'The king the king!' they cry. 'We will take 
their king. Death to the Forgoil! Death to the Strawheads ! Death to the 
robbers of the North!' Such names they have for us. Not in half a thousand 
years have they forgotten their grievance that the lords of Gondor gave the 
Mark to Eorl the Young and made alliance with him. That old hatred Saruman 
has inflamed. They are fierce folk when roused. They will not give way now 
for dusk or dawn, until Thjoden is taken, or they themselves are slain.' 

'Nonetheless day will bring hope to me,' said Aragorn. 'Is it not said 
that no foe has ever taken the Hornburg, if men defended it?' 

'So the minstrels say,' said Jomer. 

'Then let us defend it, and hope!' said Aragorn. 

Even as they spoke there came a blare of trumpets. Then there was a 




crash and a flash of flame and smoke. The waters of the Deeping-stream 
poured out hissing and foaming: they were choked no longer, a gaping hole 
was blasted in the wall. A host of dark shapes poured in. 

'Devilry of Saruman!' cried Aragorn. 'They have crept in the culvert 
again, while we talked, and they have lit the fire of Orthanc beneath our 
feet. Elendil, Elendil!' he shouted, as he leaped down into the breach; but 
even as he did so a hundred ladders were raised against the battlements. 
Over the wall and under the wall the last assault came sweeping like a dark 
wave upon a hill of sand. The defence was swept away. Some of the Riders 
were driven back, further and further into the Deep, falling and fighting as 
they gave way, step by step, towards the caves. Others cut their way back 
towards the citadel. 

A broad stairway, climbed from the Deep up to the Rock and the 
rear-gate of the Hornburg. Near the bottom stood Aragorn. In his hand still 
And®ril gleamed, and the terror of the sword for a while held back the 
enemy, as one by one all who could gain the stair passed up towards the 
gate. Behind on the upper steps knelt Legolas. His bow was bent, but one 
gleaned arrow was all that he had left, and he peered out now, ready to 
shoot the first Ore that should dare to approach the stair. 

'All who can have now got safe within, Aragorn,' he called. 'Come 
back!' 

Aragorn turned and sped up the stair; but as he ran he stumbled in his 
weariness. At once his enemies leapt forward. Up came the Ores, yelling, 
with their long arms stretched out to seize him. The foremost fell with 
Legolas' last arrow in his throat, but the rest sprang over him. Then a 
great boulder, cast from the outer wall above, crashed down upon the stair, 
and hurled them back into the Deep. Aragorn gained the door, and swiftly it 
clanged to behind him. 

'Things go ill, my friends,' he said, wiping the sweat from his brow 
with his arm. 

'Ill enough,' said Legolas, 'but not yet hopeless, while we have you 
with us. Where is Gimli?' 

'I do not know.' said Aragorn. 'I last saw him fighting on the ground 
behind the wall, but the enemy swept us apart.' 

'Alas! That is evil news,' said Legolas. 

'He is stout and strong,' said Aragorn. 'Let us hope that he will 
escape back to the caves. There he would be safe for a while. Safer than we. 




Such a refuge would be to the liking of a dwarf.' 

That must be my hope" said Legolas. 'But I wish that he had come this 
way. I desired to tell Master Gimli that my tale is now thirty-nine.' 

'If he wins back to the caves, he will pass your count again,' laughed 
Aragorn. 'Never did I see an axe so wielded.' 

'I must go and seek some arrows,' said Legolas. 'Would that this night 
would end, and I could have better light for shooting.' 

Aragorn now passed into the citadel. There to his dismay he learned 
that Jomer had not reached the Hornburg. 

'Nay, he did not come to the Rock,' said one of the Westfold-men, 'I 
last saw him gathering men about him and fighting in the mouth of the Deep. 
Gamling was with him, and the dwarf; but I could not come to them.' 

Aragorn strode on through the inner court, and mounted to a high 
chamber in the tower. There stood the king, dark against a narrow window, 
looking out upon the vale. 

'What is the news, Aragorn?' he said. 

'The Deeping Wall is taken, lord, and all the defence swept away; but 
many have escaped hither to the Rock.' 

'Is Jomer here?' 

'No, lord. But many of your men retreated into the Deep; and some say 
that Jomer was amongst them. In the narrows they may hold back the enemy 
and 

come within the caves. What hope they may have then I do not know.' 

'More than we. Good provision, it is said. And the air is wholesome 
there because of the outlets through fissures in the rock far above. None 
can force an entrance against determined men. They may hold out long.' 

'But the Ores have brought a devilry from Orthanc,' said Aragorn. 'They 
have a blasting fire, and with it they took the Wall. If they cannot come in 
the caves, they may seal up those that are inside. But now we must turn all 
our thoughts to our own defence.' 

'I fret in this prison,' said Thjoden. 'If I could have set a spear in 
rest, riding before my men upon the field, maybe I could have felt again the 
joy of battle, and so ended. But I serve little purpose here.' 

'Here at least you are guarded in the strongest fastness of the Mark,' 
said Aragorn. 'More hope we have to defend you in the Hornburg than in 
Edoras, or even at Dunharrow in the mountains.' 

'It is said that the Hornburg has never fallen to assault,' said 




Thjoden; 'but now my heart is doubtful. The world changes, and all that once 
was strong now proves unsure. How shall any tower withstand such numbers 
and 

such reckless hate? Had I known that the strength of Isengard was grown so 
great, maybe 1 should not so rashly have ridden forth to meet it, for all 
the arts of Gandalf. His counsel seems not now so good as it did under the 
morning sun.' 

'Do not judge the counsel of Gandalf, until all is over, lord,' said 
Aragorn. 

'The end will not be long,' said the king. 'But I will not end here, 
taken like an old badger in a trap. Snowmane and Hasufel and the horses of 
my guard are in the inner court. When dawn comes, I will bid men sound 
Helm's horn, and I will ride forth. Will you ride with me then, son of 
Arathorn? Maybe we shall cleave a road, or make such an end as will be worth 
a song-if any be left to sing of us hereafter.' 

'I will ride with you,' said Aragorn. 

Taking his leave, he returned to the walls, and passed round all their 
circuit, enheartening the men, and lending aid wherever the assault was hot. 
Legolas went with him. Blasts of fire leaped up from below shaking the 
stones. Grappling -hooks were hurled, and ladders raised. Again and again the 
Ores gained the summit of the outer wall, and again the defenders cast them 
down. 

At last Aragorn stood above the great gates, heedless of the darts of 
the enemy. As he looked forth he saw the eastern sky grow pale. Then he 
raised his empty hand, palm outward in token of parley. 

The Ores yelled and jeered. 'Come down! Come down!' they cried. 'If you 
wish to speak to us, come down! Bring out your king! We are the fighting 
Uruk-hai. We will fetch him from his hole, if he does not come. Bring out 
your skulking king!' 

'The king stays or comes at his own will,' said Aragorn. 

'Then what are you doing here?' they answered. 'Why do you look out? Do 
you wish to see the greatness of our army? We are the fighting Uruk-hai.' 

'I looked out to see the dawn,' said Aragorn. 

'What of the dawn?' they jeered. 'We are the Uruk-hai: we do not stop 
the fight for night or day, for fair weather or for storm. We come to kill, 
by sun or moon. What of the dawn?' 

'None knows what the new day shall bring him,' said Aragorn. 'Get you 




gone, ere it turn to your evil.' 

'Get down or we will shoot you from the wall,' they cried. 'This is no 
parley. You have nothing to say.' 

'I have still this to say,' answered Aragorn. 'No enemy has yet taken 
the Hornburg. Depart, or not one of you will be spared. Not one will be left 
alive to take back tidings to the North. You do not know your peril.' 

So great a power and royalty was revealed in Aragorn, as he stood there 
alone above the ruined gates before the host of his enemies, that many of 
the wild men paused, and looked back over their shoulders to the valley, and 
some looked up doubtfully at the sky. But the Ores laughed with loud voices; 
and a hail of darts and arrows whistled over the wall, as Aragorn leaped 
down. 

There was a roar and a blast of fire. The archway of the gate above 
which he had stood a moment before crumbled and crashed in smoke and 
dust. 

The barricade was scattered as if by a thunderbolt. Aragorn ran to the 
king's tower. 

But even as the gate fell, and the Ores about it yelled, preparing to 
charge, a murmur arose behind them, like a wind in the distance, and it grew 
to a clamour of many voices crying strange news in the dawn. The Ores upon 
the Rock, hearing the rumour of dismay, wavered and looked back. And then, 
sudden and terrible, from the tower above, the sound of the great horn of 
Helm rang out. 

All that heard that sound trembled. Many of the Ores cast themselves on 
their faces and covered their ears with their claws. Back from the Deep the 
echoes came, blast upon blast, as if on every cliff and hill a mighty herald 
stood. But on the walls men looked up, listening with wonder; for the echoes 
did not die. Ever the horn-blasts wound on among the hills; nearer now and 
louder they answered one to another, blowing fierce and free. 

'Helm! Helm!' the Riders shouted. 'Helm is arisen and comes back to 
war. Helm for Thjoden King!' 

And with that shout the king came. His horse was white as snow, golden 
was his shield, and his spear was long. At his right hand was Aragorn, 
Elendil's heir, behind him rode the lords of the House of Eorl the Young. 
Light sprang in the sky. Night departed. 

'Forth Eorlingas!' With a cry and a great noise they charged. Down from 
the gates they roared, over the causeway they swept, and they drove through 




the hosts of Isengard as a wind among grass. Behind them from the Deep came 
the stern cries of men issuing from the caves, driving forth the enemy. Out 
poured all the men that were left upon the Rock. And ever the sound of 
blowing horns echoed in the hills. 

On they rode, the king and his companions. Captains and champions fell 
or fled before them. Neither ore nor man withstood them. Their backs were to 
the swords and spears of the Riders and their faces to the valley. They 
cried and wailed, for fear and great wonder had come upon them with the 
rising of the day. 

So King Thjoden rode from Helm's Gate and clove his path to the great 
Dike. There the company halted. Light grew bright about them. Shafts of the 
sun flared above the eastern hills and glimmered on their spears. But they 
sat silent on their horses, and they gazed down upon the Deeping-coomb. 

The land had changed. Where before the green dale had lain, its grassy 
slopes lapping the ever-mounting hills, there now a forest loomed. Great 
trees, bare and silent, stood, rank on rank, with tangled bough and hoary 
head; their twisted roots were buried in the long green grass. Darkness was 
under them. Between the Dike and the eaves of that nameless wood only two 
open furlongs lay. There now cowered the proud hosts of Saruman, in terror 
of the king and in terror of the trees. They streamed down from Helm's Gate 
until all above the Dike was empty of them, but below it they were packed 
like swarming flies. Vainly they crawled and clambered about the walls of 
the coomb, seeking to escape. Upon the east too sheer and stony was the 
valley's side; upon the left, from the west, their final doom approached. 

There suddenly upon a ridge appeared a rider, clad in white, shining in 
the rising sun. Over the low hills the horns were sounding. Behind him, 
hastening down the long slopes, were a thousand men on foot; their swords 
were in their hands. Amid them strode a man tall and strong. His shield was 
red. As he came to the valley's brink, he set to his lips a great black horn 
and blew a ringing blast. 

'Erkenbrand!' the Riders shouted. 'Erkenbrand!' 

'Behold the White Rider!' cried Aragorn. 'Gandalf is come again!' 

'Mithrandir, Mithrandir!' said Legolas. 'This is wizardry indeed! Come! 

I would look on this forest, ere the spell changes.' 

The hosts of Isengard roared, swaying this way and that, turning from 
fear to fear. Again the horn sounded from the tower. Down through the breach 
of the Dike charged the king's company. Down from the hills leaped 




Erkenbrand, lord of Westfold. Down leaped Shadowfax, like a deer that runs 
surefooted in the mountains. The White Rider was upon them, and the terror 
of his coming filled the enemy with madness. The wild men fell on their 
faces before him. The Ores reeled and screamed and cast aside both sword and 
spear. Like a black smoke driven by a mounting wind they fled. Wailing they 
passed under the waiting shadow of the trees; and from that shadow none ever 
came again. 




Chapter 8 . The Road to Isengard 



So it was that in the light of a fair morning King Thjoden and Gandalf 
the White Rider met again upon the green grass beside the Deeping -stream. 
There was also Aragorn son of Arathorn, and Legolas the Elf, and Erkenbrand 
of Westfold, and the lords of the Golden Elouse. About them were gathered the 
Rohirrim, the Riders of the Mark: wonder overcame their joy in victory, and 
their eyes were turned towards the wood. 

Suddenly there was a great shout, and down from the Dike came those who 
had been driven back into the Deep. There came Gamling the Old, and Jomer 
son of Jomund, and beside them walked Gimli the dwarf. Ele had no helm, 
and 

about his head was a linen band stained with blood; but his voice was loud 
and strong. 

’Forty -two, Master Legolas!' he cried. 'Alas! My axe is notched: the 
forty-second had an iron collar on his neck. How is it with you?' 

'You have passed my score by one,' answered Legolas. 'But I do not 
grudge you the game, so glad am I to see you on your legs!' 

'Welcome, Jomer, sister-son!' said Thjoden. 'Now that I see you safe, I 
am glad indeed.' 

'Hail, Lord of the Mark!' said Jomer. 'The dark night has passed and 
day has come again. But the day has brought strange tidings.' He turned and 
gazed in wonder, first at the wood and then at Gandalf. 'Once more you come 
in the hour of need, unlooked-for,' he said. 

'Unlooked-for?' said Gandalf. 'I said that I would return and meet you 
here.' 

'But you did not name the hour, nor foretell the manner of your coming. 
Strange help you bring. You are mighty in wizardry, Gandalf the White!' 

'That may be. But if so, I have not shown it yet. I have but given good 
counsel in peril, and made use of the speed of Shadowfax. Your own valour 
has done more, and the stout legs of the Westfold-men marching through the 
night.' 

Then they all gazed at Gandalf with still greater wonder. Some glanced 
darkly at the wood, and passed their hands over their brows, as if they 
thought their eyes saw otherwise than his. 




Gandalf laughed long and merrily. The trees?' he said. 'Nay, I see the 
wood as plainly as do you. But that is no deed of mine. It is a thing beyond 
the counsel of the wise. Better than my design, and better even than my hope 
the event has proved.' 

'Then if not yours, whose is the wizardry?' said Thjoden. 'Not 
Saruman's, that is plain. Is there some mightier sage, of whom we have yet 
to learn?' 

'It is not wizardry, but a power far older,' said Gandalf: 'a power 
that walked the earth, ere elf sang or hammer rang. 

Ere iron was found or tree was hewn, 

When young was mountain under moon; 

Ere ring was made, or wrought was woe, 

It walked the forests long ago. ' 

'And what may be the answer to your riddle?' said Thjoden. 

'If you would learn that, you should come with me to Isengard ' 
answered Gandalf. 

'To Isengard?' they cried. 

'Yes,' said Gandalf. 'I shall return to Isengard, and those who will 
may come with me. There we may see strange things.' 

'But there are not men enough in the Mark, not if they were all 
gathered together and healed of wounds and weariness, to assault the 
stronghold of Saruman,' said Thjoden. 

'Nevertheless to Isengard I go,' said Gandalf. 'I shall not stay there 
long. My way lies now eastward. Look for me in Edoras, ere the waning of the 
moon!' 

'Nay!' said Thjoden. 'In the dark hour before dawn I doubted, but we 
will not part now. I will come with you, if that is your counsel.' 

'I wish to speak with Saruman, as soon as may be now,' said Gandalf, 

'and since he has done you great injury, it would be fitting if you were 
there. But how soon and how swiftly will you ride?' 

'My men are weary with battle,' said the King; 'and I am weary also. 

For I have ridden far and slept little. Alas! My old age is not feigned nor 
due only to the whisperings of Wormtongue. It is an ill that no leech can 
wholly cure, not even Gandalf.' 

'Then let all who are to ride with me rest now,' said Gandalf. 'We will 
journey under the shadow of evening. It is as well; for it is my counsel 
that all our comings and goings should be as secret as may be, henceforth. 




But do not command many men to go with you, Thjoden. We go to a parley 
not 

to a fight.' 

The King then chose men that were unhurt and had swift horses, and he 
sent them forth with tidings of the victory into every vale of the Mark; and 
they bore his summons also, bidding all men, young and old, to come in haste 
to Edoras. There the Lord of the Mark would hold an assembly of all that 
could bear arms, on the second day after the full moon. To ride with him to 
Isengard the King chose Jomer and twenty men of his household. With 
Gandalf 

would go Aragorn, and Legolas, and Gimli. In spite of his hurt the dwarf 
would not stay behind. 

'It was only a feeble blow and the cap turned it;' he said. 'It would 
take more than such an orc-scratch to keep me back.' 

'I will tend it, while you rest,' said Aragorn. 

The king now returned to the Hornburg, and slept, such a sleep of quiet 
as he had not known for many years, and the remainder of his chosen company 
rested also. But the others, all that were not hurt or wounded, began a 
great labour; for many had fallen in the battle and lay dead upon the field 
or in the Deep. 

No Ores remained alive; their bodies were uncounted. But a great many 
of the hillmen had given themselves up; and they were afraid, and cried for 
mercy. 

The Men of the Mark took their weapons from them, and set them to work. 

'Help now to repair the evil in which you have joined,' said 
Erkenbrand; 'and afterwards you shall take an oath never again to pass the 
Fords of Isen in arms, nor to march with the enemies of Men; and then you 
shall go free back to your land. For you have been deluded by Saruman. Many 
of you have got death as the reward of your trust in him; but had you 
conquered, little better would your wages have been.' 

The men of Dunland were amazed, for Saruman had told them that the men 
of Rohan were cruel and burned their captives alive. 

In the midst of the field before the Hornburg two mounds were raised, 
and beneath them were laid all the Riders of the Mark who fell in the 
defence, those of the East Dales upon one side, and those of Westfold upon 
the other. In a_ grave alone under the shadow of the Hornburg lay Hbma, 
captain of the King's guard. He fell before the Gate. 




The Ores were piled in great heaps, away from the mounds of Men, not 
far from the eaves of the forest. And the people were troubled in their 
minds; for the heaps of carrion were too great for burial or for burning. 

They had little wood for firing, and none would have dared to take an axe to 
the strange trees, even if Gandalf had not warned them to hurt neither bark 
nor bough at their great peril. 

'Let the Ores lie,' said Gandalf. ’The morning may bring new counsel.' 

In the afternoon the King's company prepared to depart. The work of 
burial was then but beginning; and Thjoden mourned for the loss of Hbma, his 
captain, and cast the first earth upon his grave. 'Great injury indeed has 
Saruman done to me and all this land,' he said; 'and I will remember it, 
when we meet.' 

The sun was already drawing near the hills upon the west of the Coomb, 
when at last Thjoden and Gandalf and their companions rode down from the 
Dike. Behind them were gathered a great host, both of the Riders and of the 
people of Westfold, old and young, women and children, who had come out 
from 

the caves. A song of victory they sang with clear voices; and then they fell 
silent, wondering what would chance, for their eyes were on the trees and 
they feared them. 

The Riders came to the wood, and they halted; horse and man, they were 
unwilling to pass in. The trees were grey and menacing, and a shadow or a 
mist was about them. The ends of their long sweeping boughs hung down like 
searching fingers, their roots stood up from the ground like the limbs of 
strange monsters, and dark caverns opened beneath them. But Gandalf went 
forward, leading the company, and where the road from the Hornburg met the 
trees they saw now an opening like an arched gate under mighty boughs; and 
through it Gandalf passed, and they followed him. Then to their amazement 
they found that the road ran on, and the Deeping-stream beside it; and the 
sky was open above and full of golden light. But on either side the great 
aisles of the wood were already wrapped in dusk, stretching away into 
impenetrable shadows; and there they heard the creaking and groaning of 
boughs, and far cries, and a rumour of wordless voices, murmuring angrily. 
No Ore or other living creature could be seen. 

Legolas and Gimli were now riding together upon one horse; and they 
kept close beside Gandalf, for Gimli was afraid of the wood. 

'It is hot in here,' said Legolas to Gandalf. 'I feel a great wrath 




about me. Do you not feel the air throb in your ears?' 

’Yes,' said Gandalf. 

’What has become of the miserable Ores?’ said Legolas. 

’That, I think, no one will ever know,’ said Gandalf. 

They rode in silence for a while; but Legolas was ever glancing from 
side to side, and would often have halted to listen to the sounds of the 
wood, if Gimli had allowed it. 

’These are the strangest trees that ever I saw,’ he said; 'and I have 
seen many an oak grow from acorn to ruinous age. I wish that there were 
leisure now to walk among them: they have voices, and in time I might come 
to understand their thought.’ 

’No, no!’ said Gimli. 'Let us leave them! I guess their thought 
already: hatred of all that go on two legs; and their speech is of crushing 
and strangling.’ 

’Not of all that go on two legs,’ said Legolas. 'There I think you are 
wrong. It is Ores that they hate. For they do not belong here and know 
little of Elves and Men. Far away are the valleys where they sprang. From 
the deep dales of Fangorn, Gimli, that is whence they come, I guess.’ 

’Then that is the most perilous wood in Middle-earth,’ said Gimli. ’I 
should be grateful for the part they have played, but I do not love them. 

You may think them wonderful, but I have seen a greater wonder in this land, 
more beautiful than any grove or glade that ever grew: my heart is still 
full of ft. 'Strange are the ways of Men, Legolas ! Here they have one of the 
marvels of the Northern World, and what do they say of it? Caves, they say! 
Caves! Holes to fly to in time of war, to store fodder in! My good Legolas, 
do you know that the caverns of Helm’s Deep are vast and beautiful? There 
would be an endless pilgrimage of Dwarves, merely to gaze at them, if such 
things were known to be. Aye indeed, they would pay pure gold for a brief 
glance!’ 

’And I would give gold to be excused,’ said Legolas; 'and double to be 
let out, if I strayed in!’ 

’You have not seen, so I forgive your jest,’ said Gimli. ’But you speak 
like a fool. Do you think those halls are fair, where your King dwells under 
the hill in Mirkwood, and Dwarves helped in their making long ago? They are 
but hovels compared with the caverns I have seen here: immeasurable halls, 
filled with an everlasting music of water that tinkles into pools, as fair 
as Kheled-zvram in the starlight. 




'And, Legolas, when the torches are kindled and men walk on the sandy 
floors under the echoing domes, ah! then, Legolas, gems and crystals and 
veins of precious ore glint in the polished walls; and the light glows 
through folded marbles, shell-like, translucent as the living hands of Queen 
Galadriel. There are columns of white and saffron and dawn-rose, Legolas, 
fluted and twisted into dreamlike forms; they spring up from many-coloured 
floors to meet the glistening pendants of the roof: wings, ropes, curtains 
fine as frozen clouds; spears, banners, pinnacles of suspended palaces! 

Still lakes mirror them: a glimmering world looks up from dark pools covered 
with clear glass; cities, such as the mind of Durin could scarce have 
imagined in his sleep, stretch on through avenues and pillared courts, on 
into the dark recesses where no light can come. And plink! a silver drop 
falls, and the round wrinkles in the glass make all the towers bend and 
waver like weeds and corals in a grotto of the sea. Then evening comes: they 
fade and twinkle out; the torches pass on into another chamber and another 
dream. There is chamber after chamber, Legolas; hall opening out of hall, 
dome after dome, stair beyond stair; and still the winding paths lead on 
into the mountains' heart. Caves! The Caverns of Helm's Deep! Happy was the 
chance that drove me there! It makes me weep to leave them.' 

'Then I will wish you this fortune for your comfort, Gimli,' said the 
Elf, 'that you may come safe from war and return to see them again. But do 
not tell all your kindred! There seems little left for them to do, from your 
account. Maybe the men of this land are wise to say little: one family of 
busy dwarves with hammer and chisel might mar more than they made.' 

'No, you do not understand,' said Gimli. 'No dwarf could be unmoved by 
such loveliness. None of Durin's race would mine those caves for stones or 
ore, not if diamonds and gold could be got there. Do you cut down groves of 
blossoming trees in the spring-time for firewood? We would tend these glades 
of flowering stone, not quarry them. With cautious skill, tap by tap — a 
small chip of rock and no more, perhaps, in a whole anxious day — so we 
could work, and as the years went by, we should open up new ways, and 
display far chambers that are still dark, glimpsed only as a void beyond 
fissures in the rock. And lights, Legolas! We should make lights, such lamps 
as once shone in Khazad-dym; and when we wished we would drive away 
the 

night that has lain there since the hills were made; and when we desired 
rest, we would let the night return.' 




'You move me, Gimli,' said Legolas. 'I have never heard you speak like 
this before. Almost you make me regret that I have not seen these caves. 
Come! Let us make this bargain-if we both return safe out of the perils that 
await us, we will journey for a while together. You shall visit Fangorn with 
me, and then I will come with you to see Helm's Deep.' 

'That would not be the way of return that I should choose,' said Gimli. 

'But I will endure Fangorn, if I have your promise to come back to the caves 
and share their wonder with me.' 

'You have my promise,' said Legolas. 'But alas! Now we must leave 
behind both cave and wood for a while: See! We are coming to the end of the 
trees. How far is it to Isengard, Gandalf?' 

'About fifteen leagues, as the crows of Saruman make it.' said Gandalf: 

'five from the mouth of Deeping-coomb to the Fords: and ten more from there 
to the gates of Isengard. But we shall not ride all the way this night.' 

'And when we come there, what shall we see?' asked Gimli. 'You may 
know, but I cannot guess.' 

'I do not know myself for certain,' answered the wizard. 'I was there 
at nightfall yesterday, but much may have happened since. Yet I think that 
you will not say that the journey was in vain — not though the Glittering 
Caves of Aglarond be left behind.' 

At last the company passed through the trees, and found that they had 
come to the bottom of the Coomb, where the road from Helm's Deep 
branched, 

going one way east to Edoras, and the other north to the Fords of Isen. As 
they rode from under the eaves of the wood, Legolas halted and looked back 
with regret. Then he gave a sudden cry. 

'There are eyes!' he said. 'Eyes looking out from the shadows of the 
boughs! I never saw such eyes before.' 

The others, surprised by his cry, halted and turned; but Legolas 
started to ride back. 

'No, no!' cried Gimli. 'Do as you please in your madness, but let me 
first get down from this horse! I wish to see no eyes!' 'Stay, Legolas 
Greenleaf!' said Gandalf. 'Do not go back into the wood, not yet! Now is not 
your time.' 

Even as he spoke, there came forward out of the trees three strange 
shapes. As tall as trolls they were, twelve feet or more in height; their 
strong bodies, stout as young trees, seemed to be clad with raiment or with 




hide of close-fitting grey and brown. Their limbs were long, and their hands 
had many fingers; their hair was stiff, and their beards grey-green as moss. 
They gazed out with solemn eyes, but they were not looking at the riders: 
their eyes were bent northwards. Suddenly they lifted their long hands to 
their mouths, and sent forth ringing calls, clear as notes of a horn, but 
more musical and various. The calls were answered; and turning again, the 
riders saw other creatures of the same kind approaching, striding through 
the grass. They came swiftly from the North, walking like wading herons in 
their gait, but not in their speed; for their legs in their long paces beat 
quicker than the heron's wings. The riders cried aloud in wonder, and some 
set their hands upon their sword-hilts. 

'You need no weapons,' said Gandalf. 'These are but herdsmen. They are 
not enemies, indeed they are not concerned with us at all.' 

So it seemed to be; for as he spoke the tall creatures, without a 
glance at the riders, strode into the wood and vanished. 

'Herdsmen!' said Thjoden. 'Where are their flocks? What are they, 
Gandalf? For it is plain that to you, at any rate, they are not strange.' 

'They are the shepherds of the trees,' answered Gandalf. 'Is it so long 
since you listened to tales by the fireside? There are children in your land 
who, out of the twisted threads of story, could pick the answer to your 
question. You have seen Ents, O King, Ents out of Fangorn Forest, which in 
your tongue you call the Entwood. Did you think that the name was given only 
in idle fancy? Nay, Thjoden, it is otherwise: to them you are but the 
passing tale; all the years from Eorl the Young to Thjoden the Old are of 
little count to them; and all the deeds of your house but a small matter.' 

The king was silent. 'Ents!' he said at length. 'Out of the shadows of 
legend I begin a little to understand the marvel of the trees, I think. I 
have lived to see strange days. Long we have tended our beasts and our 
fields, built our houses, wrought our tools, or ridden away to help in the 
wars of Minas Tirith. And that we called the life of Men, the way of the 
world. We cared little for what lay beyond the borders of our land. Songs we 
have that tell of these things, but we are forgetting them, teaching them 
only to children, as a careless custom. And now the songs have come down 
among us out of strange places, and walk visible under the Sun.' 

'You should be glad, Thjoden King,' said Gandalf. 'For not only the 
little life of Men is now endangered, but the life also of those things 
which you have deemed the matter of legend. You are not without allies, even 




if you know them not.' 

'Yet also I should be sad,' said Thjoden. ’For however the fortune of 
war shall go, may it not so end that much that was fair and wonderful shall 
pass for ever out of Middle-earth?' 

'It may,' said Gandalf. 'The evil of Sauron cannot be wholly cured, nor 
made as if it had not been. But to such days we are doomed. Let us now go on 
with the journey we have begun!' 

The company turned then away from the Coomb and from the wood and 
took 

the road towards the Fords. Legolas followed reluctantly. The sun had set, 
already it had sunk behind the rim of the world; but as they rode out from 
the shadow of the hills and looked west to the Gap of Rohan the sky was 
still red, and a burning light was under the floating clouds. Dark against 
it there wheeled and flew many black -winged birds. Some passed overhead 
with 

mournful cries, returning to their homes among the rocks. 

'The carrion-fowl have been busy about the battle-field,' said Jomer. 

They rode now at an easy pace and dark came down upon the plains about 
them. The slow moon mounted, now waxing towards the full, and in its cold 
silver light the swelling grass-lands rose and fell like a wide grey sea. 

They had ridden for some four hours from the branching of the roads when 
they drew near to the Fords. Long slopes ran swiftly down to where the river 
spread in stony shoals between high grassy terraces. Borne upon the wind 
they heard the howling of wolves. Their hearts were heavy, remembering the 
many men that had fallen in battle in this place. 

The road dipped between rising turf-banks, carving its way through the 
terraces to the river's edge, and up again upon the further side. There were 
three lines of flat stepping-stones across the stream, and between them 
fords for horses, that went from either brink to a bare eyot in the midst. 

The riders looked down upon the crossings, and it seemed strange to them; 
for the Fords had ever been a place full of the rush and chatter of water 
upon stones; but now they were silent. The beds of the stream were almost 
dry, a bare waste of shingles and grey sand. 

'This is become a dreary place,' said Jomer. 'What sickness has 
befallen the river? Many fair things Saruman has destroyed: has he devoured 
the springs of Isen too?' 'So it would seem,' said Gandalf. 

'Alas!' said Thjoden. 'Must we pass this way, where the carrion-beasts 




devour so many good Riders of the Mark?' 

This is our way,' said Gandalf. 'Grievous is the fall of your men; but 
you shall see that at least the wolves of the mountains do not devour them. 

It is with their friends, the Ores, that they hold their feast: such indeed 
is the friendship of their kind. Come!’ 

They rode down to the river, and as they came the wolves ceased their 
howling and slunk away. Fear fell on them seeing Gandalf in the moon, and 
Shadowfax his horse shining like silver. The riders passed over to the 
islet, and glittering eyes watched them wanly from the shadows of the banks. 

'Look!' said Gandalf. 'Friends have laboured here.’ 

And they saw that in the midst of the eyot a mound was piled, ringed 
with stones, and set about with many spears. 

’Here lie all the Men of the Mark that fell near this place,’ said 
Gandalf. 

'Here let them rest!' said Jomer. 'And when their spears have rotted 
and rusted, long still may their mound stand and guard the Fords of Isen!' 

'Is this your work also, Gandalf, my friend?' said Thjoden. 'You 
accomplished much in an evening and a night!' 

'With the help of Shadowfax — and others,' said Gandalf. 'I rode fast 
and far. But here beside the mound I will say this for your comfort: many 
fell in the battles of the Fords, but fewer than rumour made them. More were 
scattered than were slain; I gathered together all that I could find. Some 
men I sent with Grimbold of Westfold to join Erkenbrand. Some I set to make 
this burial. They have now followed your marshal, Elfhelm. I sent him with 
many Riders to Edoras. Saruman I knew had despatched his full strength 
against you, and his servants had turned aside from all other errands and 
gone to Helm's Deep: the lands seemed empty of enemies; yet I feared that 
wolf-riders and plunderers might ride nonetheless to Meduseld, while it was 
undefended. But now I think you need not fear: you will find your house to 
welcome your return.' 

'And glad shall I be to see it again,' said Thjoden, 'though brief now, 

I doubt not, shall be my abiding there.' 

With that the company said farewell to the island and the mound, and 
passed over the river, and climbed the further bank. Then they rode on, glad 
to have left the mournful Fords. As they went the howling of the wolves 
broke out anew. 

There was an ancient highway that ran down from Isengard to the 




crossings. For some way it took its course beside the river, bending with it 
east and then north; but at the last it turned away and went straight 
towards the gates of Isengard; and these were under the mountain-side in the 
west of the valley, sixteen miles or more from its mouth. This road they 
followed but they did not ride upon it; for the ground beside it was firm 
and level, covered for many miles about with short springing turf. They rode 
now more swiftly, and by midnight the Fords were nearly five leagues behind. 
Then they halted, ending their night's journey, for the King was weary. They 
were come to the feet of the Misty Mountains, and the long arms of Nan 
Curunnr stretched down to meet them. Dark lay the vale before them, for the 
moon had passed into the West, and its light was hidden by the hills. But 
out of the deep shadow of the dale rose a vast spire of smoke and vapour; as 
it mounted, it caught the rays of the sinking moon, and spread in shimmering 
billows, black and silver, over the starry sky. 

’What do you think of that, Gandalf?' asked Aragorn. 'One would say 
that all the Wizard's Vale was burning.' 

'There is ever a fume above that valley in these days,' said Jomer: 

'but I have never seen aught like this before. These are steams rather than 
smokes. Saruman is brewing some devilry to greet us. Maybe he is boiling all 
the waters of Isen, and that is why the river runs dry.' 

'Maybe he is,' said Gandalf. 'Tomorrow we shall learn what he is doing. 
Now let us rest for a while, if we can.' 

They camped beside the bed of the Isen river; it was still silent and 
empty. Some of them slept a little. But late in the night the watchmen cried 
out, and all awoke. The moon was gone. Stars were shining above; but over 
the ground there crept a darkness blacker than the night. On both sides of 
the river it rolled towards them, going northward. 

'Stay where you are!' said Gandalf. 'Draw no weapons! Wait! and it will 
pass you by!' 

A mist gathered about them. Above them a few stars still glimmered 
faintly; but on either side there arose walls of impenetrable gloom; they 
were in a narrow lane between moving towers of shadow. Voices they heard, 
whisperings and groanings and an endless rustling sigh; the earth shook 
under them. Long it seemed to them that they sat and were afraid; but at 
last the darkness and the rumour passed, and vanished between the mountain's 
arms. 

Away south upon the Hornburg, in the middle night men heard a great 




noise, as a wind in the valley, and the ground trembled; and all were afraid 
and no one ventured to go forth. But in the morning they went out and were 
amazed; for the slain Ores were gone, and the trees also. Far down into the 
valley of the Deep the grass was crushed and trampled brown, as if giant 
herdsmen had pastured great droves of cattle there; but a mile below the 
Dike a huge pit had been delved in the earth, and over it stones were piled 
into a hill. Men believed that the Ores whom they had slain were buried 
there; but whether those who had fled into the wood were with them, none 
could say, for no man ever set foot upon that hill. The Death Down it was 
afterwards called, and no grass would grow there. But the strange trees were 
never seen in Deeping-coomb again; they had returned at night, and had gone 
far away to the dark dales of Fangorn. Thus they were revenged upon the 
Ores. 

The king and his company slept no more that night; but they saw and 
heard no other strange thing, save one: the voice of the river beside them 
suddenly awoke. There was a rush of water hurrying down among the stones; 
and when it had passed, the Isen flowed and bubbled in its bed again, as it 
had ever done. 

At dawn they made ready to go on. The light came grey and pale, and 
they did not see the rising of the sun. The air above was heavy with fog, 
and a reek lay on the land about them. They went slowly, riding now upon the 
highway. It was broad and hard, and well-tended. Dimly through the mists 
they could descry the long arm of the mountains rising on their left. They 
had passed into Nan Curunnr, the Wizard's Vale. That was a sheltered valley, 
open only to the South. Once it had been fair and green, and through it the 
Isen flowed, already deep and strong before it found the plains; for it was 
fed by many springs and lesser streams among the rain-washed hills, and all 
about it there had lain a pleasant, fertile land. 

It was not so now. Beneath the walls of Isengard there still were acres 
tilled by the slaves of Saruman; but most of the valley had become a 
wilderness of weeds and thorns. Brambles trailed upon the ground, or 
clambering over bush and bank, made shaggy caves where small beasts 
housed. 

No trees grew there; but among the rank grasses could still be seen the 
burned and axe-hewn stumps of ancient groves. It was a sad country, silent 
now but for the stony noise of quick waters. Smokes and steams drifted in 
sullen clouds and lurked in the hollows. The riders did not speak. Many 




doubted in their hearts, wondering to what dismal end their journey led. 

After they had ridden for some miles, the highway became a wide street, 
paved with great flat stones, squared and laid with skill; no blade of grass 
was seen in any joint. Deep gutters, filled with trickling water, ran down 
on either side. Suddenly a tall pillar loomed up before them. It was black; 
and set upon it was a great stone, carved and painted in the likeness of a 
long White Hand. Its finger pointed north. Not far now they knew that the 
gates of Isengard must stand, and their hearts were heavy; but their eyes 
could not pierce the mists ahead. 

Beneath the mountain's arm within the Wizard's Vale through years 
uncounted had stood that ancient place that Men called Isengard. Partly it 
was shaped in the making of the mountains, but mighty works the Men of 
Westernesse had wrought there of old; and Saruman had dwelt there long and 
had not been idle. 

This was its fashion, while Saruman was at his height, accounted by 
many the chief of Wizards. A great ring-wall of stone, like towering cliffs, 
stood out from the shelter of the mountain- side, from which it ran and then 
returned again. One entrance only was there made in it, a great arch delved 
in the southern wall. Here through the black rock a long tunnel had been 
hewn, closed at either end with mighty doors of iron. They were so wrought 
and poised upon their huge hinges, posts of steel driven into the living 
stone, that when unbarred they could be moved with a light thrust of the 
arms, noiselessly. One who passed in and came at length out of the echoing 
tunnel, beheld a plain, a great circle, somewhat hollowed like a vast 
shallow bowl: a mile it measured from rim to rim. Once it had been green and 
filled with avenues, and groves of fruitful trees, watered by streams that 
flowed from the mountains to a lake. But no green thing grew there in the 
latter days of Saruman. The roads were paved with stone-flags, dark and 
hard; and beside their borders instead of trees there marched long lines of 
pillars, some of marble, some of copper and of iron, joined by heavy chains. 

Many houses there were, chambers, halls, and passages, cut and 
tunnelled back into the walls upon their inner side, so that all the open 
circle was overlooked by countless windows and dark doors. Thousands could 
dwell there, workers, servants, slaves, and warriors with great store of 
arms; wolves were fed and stabled in deep dens beneath. The plain, too, was 
bored and delved. Shafts were driven deep into the ground; their upper ends 
were covered by low mounds and domes of stone, so that in the moonlight the 




Ring of Isengard looked like a graveyard of unquiet dead. For the ground 
trembled. The shafts ran down by many slopes and spiral stairs to caverns 
far under; there Saruman had treasuries, store-houses, armouries, smithies, 
and great furnaces. Iron wheels revolved there endlessly, and hammers 
thudded. At night plumes of vapour steamed from the vents, lit from beneath 
with red light, or blue, or venomous green. 

To the centre all the roads ran between their chains. There stood a 
tower of marvellous shape. It was fashioned by the builders of old, who 
smoothed the Ring of Isengard, and yet it seemed a thing not made by the 
craft of Men, but riven from the bones of the earth in the ancient torment 
of the hills. A peak and isle of rock it was. black and gleaming hard: four 
mighty piers of many-sided stone were welded into one, but near the summit 
they opened into gaping horns, their pinnacles sharp as the points of 
spears, keen-edged as knives. Between them was a narrow space, and there 
upon a floor of polished stone, written with strange signs, a man might 
stand five hundred feet above the plain. This was Orthanc, the citadel of 
Saruman, the name of which had (by design or chance) a twofold meaning; for 
in the Elvish speech orthanc signifies Mount Fang, but in the language of 
the Mark of old the Cunning Mind. 

A strong place and wonderful was Isengard, and long it had been 
beautiful; and there great lords had dwelt, the wardens of Gondor upon the 
West, and wise men that watched the stars. But Saruman had slowly shaped it 
to his shifting purposes, and made it better, as he thought, being 
deceived-for all those arts and subtle devices, for which he forsook his 
former wisdom, and which fondly he imagined were his own. came but 
from 

Mordor; so that what he made was naught, only a little copy, a child's model 
or a slave's flattery, of that vast fortress, armoury, prison, furnace of 
great power, Barad-dyr, the Dark Tower, which suffered no rival, and laughed 
at flattery, biding its time, secure in its pride and its immeasurable 
strength. 

This was the stronghold of Saruman, as fame reported it; for within 
living memory the men of Rohan had not passed its gates, save perhaps a few, 
such as Wormtongue, who came in secret and told no man what they saw. 

Now Gandalf rode to the great pillar of the Hand, and passed it: and as 
he did so the Riders saw to their wonder that the Hand appeared no longer 
white. It was stained as with dried blood; and looking closer they perceived 




that its nails were red. Unheeding Gandalf rode on into the mist, and 
reluctantly they followed him. All about them now, as if there had been a 
sudden flood, wide pools of water lay beside the road, filling the hollows, 
and rills went trickling down among the stones. 

At last Gandalf halted and beckoned to them; and they came, and saw 
that beyond him the mists had cleared, and a pale sunlight shone. The hour 
of noon had passed. They were come to the doors of Isengard. 

But the doors lay hurled and twisted on the ground. And all about, 
stone, cracked and splintered into countless jagged shards, was scattered 
far and wide, or piled in ruinous heaps. The great arch still stood, but it 
opened now upon a roofless chasm: the tunnel was laid bare, and through the 
cliff-like walls on either side great rents and breaches had been torn; 
their towers were beaten into dust. If the Great Sea had risen in wrath and 
fallen on the hills with storm, it could have worked no greater ruin. 

The ring beyond was filled with steaming water: a bubbling cauldron, in 
which there heaved and floated a wreckage of beams and spars, chests and 
casks and broken gear. Twisted and leaning pillars reared their splintered 
stems above the flood, but all the roads were drowned. Far off, it seemed, 
half veiled in winding cloud, there loomed the island rock. Still dark and 
tall, unbroken by the storm, the tower of Orthanc stood. Pale waters lapped 
about its feet. 

The king and all his company sat silent on their horses, marvelling, 
perceiving that the power of Saruman was overthrown; but how they could not 
guess. And now they turned their eyes towards the archway and the ruined 
gates. There they saw close beside them a great rubble-heap; and suddenly 
they were aware of two small figures lying on it at their ease, grey-clad, 
hardly to be seen among the stones. There were bottles and bowls and 
platters laid beside them, as if they had just eaten well, and now rested 
from their labour. One seemed asleep; the other, with crossed legs and arms 
behind his head, leaned back against a broken rock and sent from his mouth 
long wisps and little rings of thin blue smoke. 

For a moment Thjoden and Jomer and all his men stared at them in 
wonder. Amid all the wreck of Isengard this seemed to them the strangest 
sight. But before the king could speak, the small smoke-breathing figure 
became suddenly aware of them, as they sat there silent on the edge of the 
mist. He sprang to his feet. A young man he looked, or like one, though not 
much more than half a man in height; his head of brown curling hair was 




uncovered, but he was clad in a travel-stained cloak of the same hue and 
shape as the companions of Gandalf had worn when they rode to Edoras. He 
bowed very low. putting his hand upon his breast. Then, seeming not to 
observe the wizard and his friends, he turned to Jomer and the king. 

'Welcome, my lords, to Isengard!' he said. 'We are the doorwardens. 
Meriadoc, son of Saradoc is my name; and my companion, who, alas! is 
overcome with weariness' — here he gave the other a dig with his foot — 

'is Peregrin, son of Paladin, of the house of Took. Far in the North is our 
home. The Lord Saruman is within; but at the moment he is closeted with one 
Wormtongue, or doubtless he would be here to welcome such honourable 
guests.' 

'Doubtless he would!' laughed Gandalf. 'And was it Saruman that ordered 
you to guard his damaged doors, and watch for the arrival of guests, when 
your attention could be spared from plate and bottle?' 

'No, good sir, the matter escaped him,' answered Merry gravely 'He has 
been much occupied. Our orders came from Treebeard, who has taken over 
the 

management of Isengard. He commanded me to welcome the Lord of Rohan 
with 

fitting words. I have done my best.' 

'And what about your companions? What about Legolas and me?' cried 
Gimli, unable to contain himself longer. 'You rascals, you woolly-footed and 
wool-pated truants ! A fine hunt you have led us! Two hundred leagues, 
through fen and forest, battle and death, to rescue you ! And here we find 
you feasting and idling -and smoking ! Smoking! Where did you come by the 
weed, you villains? Hammer and tongs! I am so torn between rage and joy, 
that if I do not burst, it will be a marvel!' 

'You speak for me, Gimli,' laughed Legolas. 'Though I would sooner 
learn how they came by the wine.' 

'One thing you have not found in your hunting, and that's brighter 
wits,' said Pippin, opening an eye. 'Here you find us sitting on a field of 
victory, amid the plunder of armies, and you wonder how we came by a few 
well-earned comforts!' 

'Well-earned?' said Gimli. 'I cannot believe that!' 

The Riders laughed. 'It cannot be doubted that we witness the meeting 
of dear friends,' said Thjoden. 'So these are the lost ones of your company, 
Gandalf? The days are fated to be filled with marvels. Already I have seen 




many since I left my house; and now here before my eyes stand yet another of 
the folk of legend. Are not these the Halflings, that some among us call the 
Holbytlan?' 

'Hobbits, if you please, lord,' said Pippin. 

'Hobbits?' said Thjoden. 'Your tongue is strangely changed; but the 
name sounds not unfitting so. Hobbits! No report that I have heard does 
justice to the truth.' 

Merry bowed; and Pippin got up and bowed low. 'You are gracious, lord; 
or I hope that I may so take your words,' he said. 'And here is another 
marvel! I have wandered in many lands, since I left my home, and never till 
now have I found people that knew any story concerning hobbits.' 

'My people came out of the North long ago,' said Thjoden. 'But I will 
not deceive you: we know no tales about hobbits. All that is said among us 
is that far away, over many hills and rivers, live the halfling folk that 
dwell in holes in sand-dunes. But there are no legends of their deeds, for 
it is said that they do little, and avoid the sight of men, being able to 
vanish in a twinkling: and they can change their voices to resemble the 
piping of birds. But it seems that more could be said.' 

'It could indeed, lord,' said Merry. 

'For one thing,' said Thjoden, 'I had not heard that they spouted smoke 
from their mouths.' 

'That is not surprising,' answered Merry; 'for it is an art which we 
have not practised for more than a few generations. It was Tobold 
Hornblower, of Longbottom in the Southfarthing, who first grew the true 
pipe-weed in his gardens, about the year 1070 according to our reckoning. 
How old Toby came by the plant...' 

'You do not know your danger, Thjoden,' interrupted Gandalf. 'These 
hobbits will sit on the edge of ruin and discuss the pleasures of the table, 
or the small doings of their fathers, grandfathers, and great-grandfathers, 
and remoter cousins to the ninth degree, if you encourage them with undue 
patience. Some other time would be more fitting for the history of smoking. 
Where is Treebeard, Merry?' 

'Away on the north side, I believe. He went to get a drink-of clean 
water. Most of the other Ents are with him, still busy at their work — over 
there.' Merry waved his hand towards the steaming lake; and as they looked, 
they heard a distant rumbling and rattling, as if an avalanche was falling 
from the mountain-side. Far away came a hoom-hom, as of horns blowing 




triumphantly. 

'And is Orthanc then left unguarded?' asked Gandalf. 

'There is the water,' said Merry. 'But Quickbeam and some others are 
watching it. Not all those posts and pillars in the plain are of Saruman's 
planting. Quickbeam, I think, is by the rock, near the foot of the stair.' 

'Yes, a tall grey Ent is there,' said Legolas, 'but his arms are at his 
sides, and he stands as still as a door -tree.' 

'It is past noon,' said Gandalf, 'and we at any rate have not eaten 
since early morning. Yet I wish to see Treebeard as soon as may be. Did he 
leave me no message, or has plate and bottle driven it from your mind?' 

'He left a message,' said Merry, 'and I was coming to it, but I have 
been hindered by many other questions. I was to say that, if the Lord of the 
Mark and Gandalf will ride to the northern wall they will find Treebeard 
there, and he will welcome them. I may add that they will also find food of 
the best there, it was discovered and selected by your humble servants.' He 
bowed. 

Gandalf laughed. 'That is better!' he said. 'Well, Thjoden. will you 
ride with me to find Treebeard? We must go round about, but it is not far. 
When you see Treebeard, you will learn much. For Treebeard is Fangorn, and 
the eldest and chief of the Ents, and when you speak with him you will hear 
the speech of the oldest of all living things.' 

'I will come with you,' said Thjoden. 'Farewell, my hobbits! May we 
meet again in my house ! There you shall sit beside me and tell me all that 
your hearts desire: the deeds of your grandsires, as far as you can reckon 
them; and we will speak also of Tobold the Old and his herb-lore. Farewell!' 

The hobbits bowed low. 'So that is the King of Rohan!' said Pippin in 
an undertone. 'A fine old fellow. Very polite.' 




Chapter 9 . Flotsam and Jetsam 



Gandalf and the King’s company rode away, turning eastward to make the 
circuit of the ruined walls of Isengard. But Aragorn, Gimli, and Legolas 
remained behind. Leaving Arod and Hasufel to stray in search of grass, they 
came and sat beside the hobbits. 

'Well, well! The hunt is over, and we meet again at last, where none of 
us ever thought to come,' said Aragorn. 

'And now that the great ones have gone to discuss high matters,' said 
Legolas, 'the hunters can perhaps learn the answers to their own small 
riddles. We tracked you as far as the forest, but there are still many 
things that I should like to know the truth of.' 

'And there is a great deal, too, that we want to know about you ' said 
Merry. 'We have learnt a few things through Treebeard, the Old Ent, but that 
is not nearly enough.' 

'All in good time,' said Legolas. 'We were the hunters, and you should 
give an account of yourselves to us first.' 

'Or second,' said Gimli. 'It would go better after a meal, t have a 
sore head; and it is past mid-day. You truants might make amends by finding 
us some of the plunder that you spoke of. Food and drink would pay off some 
of my score against you.' 

'Then you shall have it,' said Pippin. 'Will you have it here, or in 
more comfort in what's left of Saruman's guard-house— over there under the 
arch? We had to picnic out here, so as to keep an eye on the road.' 

'Less than an eye!' said Gimli. 'But I will not go into any ore-house 
nor touch Ores' meat or anything that they have mauled.' 

'We wouldn't ask you to,' said Merry. 'We have had enough of Ores 
ourselves to last a life-time. But there were many other folk in Isengard. 
Saruman kept enough wisdom not to trust his Ores. He had Men to guard his 
gates: some of his most faithful servants, I suppose. Anyway they were 
favoured and got good provisions.' 

'And pipe-weed?' asked Gimli. 

'No, I don't think so,' Merry laughed. 'But that is another story, 
which can wait until after lunch.' 

'Well let us go and have lunch then!' said the Dwarf. 




The hobbits led the way; and they passed under the arch and came to a 
wide door upon the left, at the top of a stair. It opened direct into a 
large chamber, with other smaller doors at the far end, and a hearth and 
chimney at one side. The chamber was hewn out of the stone; and it must once 
have been dark, for its windows looked out only into the tunnel. But light 
came in now through the broken roof. On the hearth wood was burning. 

'I lit a bit of fire,' said Pippin. 'It cheered us up in the fogs. 

There were few faggots about, and most of the wood we could find was wet. 
But there is a great draught in the chimney: it seems to wind away up 
through the rock, and fortunately it has not been blocked. A fire is handy. 

I will make you some toast. The bread is three or four days old, I am 
afraid.' 

Aragorn and his companions sat themselves down at one end of a long 
table, and the hobbits disappeared through one of the inner doors. 
’Store-room in there, and above the woods, luckily,’ said Pippin, as they 
came back laden with dishes, bowls, cups, knives, and food of various sorts. 

’And you need not turn up your nose at the provender, Master Gimli,’ 
said Merry. 'This is not ore-stuff, but man-food, as Treebeard calls it. 

Will you have wine or beer? There’s a barrel inside there — very passable. 

And this is first-rate salted pork. Or I can cut you some rashers of bacon 
and broil them, if you like. I am sorry there is no green stuff: the 
deliveries have been rather interrupted in the last few days! I cannot offer 
you anything to follow but butter and honey for your bread. Are you 
content?’ 

’Indeed yes,’ said Gimli. ’The score is much reduced.’ 

The three were soon busy with their meal; and the two hobbits, 
unabashed, set to a second time. ’We must keep our guests company,’ they 
said. 

’You are full of courtesy this morning,’ laughed Legolas. ’But maybe, 
if we had not arrived, you would already have been keeping one another 
company again.’ 

’Maybe; and why not?’ said Pippin. ’We had foul fare with the Ores, and 
little enough for days before that. It seems a long while since we could eat 
to heart’s content.’ 

’It does not seem to have done you any harm,’ said Aragorn. 'Indeed you 
look in the bloom of health.’ 

’Aye, you do indeed,’ said Gimli, looking them up and down over the top 




of his cup. ’Why, your hair is twice as thick and curly as when we parted; 
and I would swear that you have both grown somewhat, if that is possible for 
hobbits of your age. This Treebeard at any rate has not starved you.' 

'He has not,' said Merry. 'But Ents only drink, and drink is not enough 
for content. Treebeard's draughts may be nourishing, but one feels the need 
of something solid. And even lembas is none the worse for a change.' 

'You have drunk of the waters of the Ents, have you?' said Legolas. 

'Ah, then I think it is likely that Gimli's eyes do not deceive him. Strange 
songs have been sung of the draughts of Fangorn.' 

'Many strange tales have been told about that land,' said Aragorn. 'I 
have never entered it. Come, tell me more about it, and about the Ents!' 

'Ents,' said Pippin, 'Ents are — well Ents are all different for on 
thing. But their eyes now, their eyes are very odd.' He tried a few fumbling 
words that trailed off into silence. 'Oh, well,' he went on, 'you have seen 
some at a distance, already -they saw you at any rate, and reported that you 
were on the way-and you will see many others, I expect, before you leave 
here. You must form your own ideas.' 

'Now, now!' said Gimli. 'We are beginning the story in the middle. I 
should like a tale in the right order, starting with that strange day when 
our fellowship was broken.' 

'You shall have it, if there is time,' said Merry. 'But first-if you 
have finished eating-you shall fill your pipes and light up. And then for a 
little while we can pretend that we are all back safe at Bree again, or in 
Rivendell.' 

He produced a small leather bag full of tobacco. 'We have heaps of it,' 
he said; 'and you can all pack as much as you wish, when we go. We did some 
salvage-work this morning, Pippin and I. There are lots of things floating 
about. It was Pippin who found two small barrels, washed up out of some 
cellar or store-house, I suppose. When we opened them, we found they were 
filled with this: as fine a pipe- weed as you could wish for, and quite 
unspoilt.' 

Gimli took some and rubbed it in his palms and sniffed it. 'It feels 
good, and it smells good,' he said. 

'It is good!' said Merry. 'My dear Gimli, it is Longbottom Leaf! There 
were the Hornblower brandmarks on the barrels, as plain as plain. How it 
came here, I can't imagine. For Saruman's private use. I fancy. I never knew 
that it went so far abroad. But it comes in handy now?' 




'It would,' said Gimli, 'if I had a pipe to go with it. Alas, I lost 
mine in Moria, or before. Is there no pipe in all your plunder?' 

'No, I am afraid not,' said Merry. 'We have not found any, not even 
here in the guardrooms. Saruman kept this dainty to himself, it seems. And I 
don't think it would be any use knocking on the doors of Orthanc to beg a 
pipe of him! We shall have to share pipes, as good friends must at a pinch.' 

'Half a moment!' said Pippin. Putting his hand inside the breast of his 
jacket he pulled out a little soft wallet on a string. 'I keep a treasure or 
two near my skin, as precious as Rings to me. Here's one: my old wooden 
pipe. And here's another: an unused one. I have carried it a long way,, 
though I don't know why. I never really expected to find any pipe- weed on 
the journey, when my own ran out. But now it comes in useful after all.' He 
held up a small pipe with a wide flattened bowl, and handed it to Gimli. 
'Does that settle the score between us?' he said. 'Settle it!' cried Gimli. 

'Most noble hobbit, it leaves me deep in your debt.' 

'Well, I am going back into the open air, to see what the wind and sky 
are doing!' said Legolas. 

'We will come with you,' said Aragorn. 

They went out and seated themselves upon the piled stones before the 
gateway. They could see far down into the valley now; the mists were lifting 
and floating away upon the breeze. 

'Now let us take our ease here for a little!' said Aragorn. 'We will 
sit on the edge of ruin and talk, as Gandalf says, while he is busy 
elsewhere. I feel a weariness such as I have seldom felt before.' He wrapped 
his grey cloak about him, hiding his mail-shirt, and stretched out his long 
legs. Then he lay back and sent from his lips a thin stream of smoke. 

'Look!' said Pippin. 'Strider the Ranger has come back!' 

'He has never been away,' said Aragorn. 'I am Strider and D®nadan too, 
and I belong both to Gondor and the North.' 

They smoked in silence for a while, and the sun shone on them; slanting 
into the valley from among white clouds high in the West. Legolas lay still, 
looking up at the sun and sky with steady eyes, and singing softly to 
himself. At last he sat up. 'Come now!' he said. 'Time wears on, and the 
mists are blowing away, or would if you strange folk did not wreathe 
yourselves in smoke. What of the tale?' 

'Well, my tale begins with waking up in the dark and finding myself all 
strung-up in an ore-camp,' said Pippin. 'Let me see, what is today?' 




'The fifth of March in the Shire-reckoning,' said Aragorn. Pippin made 
some calculations on his fingers. 'Only nine days ago!' he said.l 'It seems 
a year since we were caught. Well, though half of it was like a bad dream, I 
reckon that three very horrible days followed. Merry will correct me, if I 
forget anything important: I am not going into details: the whips and the 
filth and stench and all that; it does not bear remembering.' With that he 
plunged into an account of Boromir's last fight and the ore-march from Emyn 
Muil to the Forest. The others nodded as the various points were fitted in 
with their guesses. 

'Here are some treasures that you let fall,' said Aragorn. 'You will be 
glad to have them back.' He loosened his belt from under his cloak and took 
from it the two sheathed knives. 

'Well!' said Merry. 'I never expected to see those again! I marked a 
few ores with mine; but Ugl®k took them from us. How he glared! At first I 
thought he was going to stab me, but he threw the things away as if they 
burned him.' 

'And here also is your brooch, Pippin,' said Aragorn. 'I have kept it 
safe, for it is a very precious thing.' 

'I know,' said Pippin. 'It was a wrench to let it go; but what else 
could I do?' 

'Nothing else,' answered Aragorn. 'One who cannot cast away a treasure 
at need is in fetters. You did rightly.' 

'The cutting of the bands on your wrists, that was smart work!' said 
Gimli. 'Luck served you there; but you seized your chance with both hands, 
one might say.' 

'And set us a pretty riddle,' said Legolas. 'I wondered if you had 
grown wings!' 

'Unfortunately not,' said Pippin. 'But you did not know about 
Grishnbkh.' He shuddered and said no more, leaving Merry to tell of those 
last horrible moments: the pawing hands, the hot breath, and the dreadful 
strength of Grishnbkh's hairy arms. 

'All this about the Ores of Barad-dyr, Lugb®rz as they call it, makes 
me uneasy,' said Aragorn. 'The Dark Lord already knew too much and his 
servants also; and Grishnbkh evidently sent some message across the River 
after the quarrel. The Red Eye will be looking towards Isengard. But Saruman 
at any rate is in a cleft stick of his own cutting.' 

'Yes, whichever side wins, his outlook is poor,' said Merry. 'Things 




began to go all wrong for him from the moment his Ores set foot in Rohan.' 

'We caught a glimpse of the old villain, or so Gandalf hints,' said 
Gimli. 'On the edge of the Forest.' 

'When was that?' asked Pippin. 

'Five nights ago,' said Aragorn. 

'Let me see,' said Merry: 'five nights ago-now we come to a part of the 
story you know nothing about. We met Treebeard that morning after the 
battle; and that night we were at Wellinghall, one of his ent-houses. The 
next morning we went to Entmoot, a gathering of Ents, that is, and the 
queerest thing I have ever seen in my life. It lasted all that day and the 
next; and we spent the nights with an Ent called Quickbeam. And then late in 
the afternoon in the third day of their moot, the Ents suddenly blew up. It 
was amazing. The Forest had felt as tense as if a thunderstorm was brewing 
inside it: then all at once it exploded. I wish you could have heard their 
song as they marched.' 

'If Saruman had heard it, he would be a hundred miles away by now, even 
if he had had to run on his own legs,' said Pippin. 

'Though Isengard be strong and hard, as cold as stone and bare as bone, 

We go, we go, we go to war, to hew the stone and break the door! 

There was very much more. A great deal of the song had no words, and 
was like a music of horns and drums. It was very exciting. But I thought it 
was only marching music and no more, just a song — until I got here. I know 
better now.' 

'We came down over the last ridge into Nan Curunnr, after night had 
fallen,' Merry continued. 'It was then that I first had the feeling that the 
Forest itself was moving behind us. I thought I was dreaming an entish 
dream, but Pippin had noticed it too. We were both frightened; but we did 
not find out more about it until later. 

'It was the Huorns, or so the Ents call them in "short language". 
Treebeard won't say much about them, but I think they are Ents that have 
become almost like trees, at least to look at. They stand here and there in 
the wood or under its eaves, silent, watching endlessly over the trees; but 
deep in the darkest dales there are hundreds and hundreds of them, I 
believe. 

'There is a great power in them, and they seem able to wrap themselves 
in shadow: it is difficult to see them moving. But they do. They can move 
very quickly, if they are angry. You stand still looking at the weather, 




maybe, or listening to the rustling of the wind, and then suddenly you find 
that you are in the middle of a wood with great groping trees all around 
you. They still have voices, and can speak with the Ents — that is why they 
are called Huorns, Treebeard says — but they have become queer and wild. 
Dangerous. I should be terrified of meeting them, if there were no true Ents 
about to look after them. 

'Well, in the early night we crept down a long ravine into the upper 
end of the Wizard's Vale, the Ents with all their rustling Huorns behind. We 
could not see them, of course, but the whole air was full of creaking. It 
was very dark, a cloudy night. They moved at a great speed as soon as they 
had left the hills, and made a noise like a rushing wind. The Moon did not 
appear through the clouds, and not long after midnight there was a tall wood 
all round the north side of Isengard. There was no sign of enemies nor of 
any challenge. There was a light gleaming from a high window in the tower, 
that was all. 

'Treebeard and a few more Ents crept on, right round to within sight of 
the great gates. Pippin and I were with him. We were sitting on Treebeard's 
shoulders, and I could feel the quivering tenseness in him. But even when 
they are roused, Ents can be very cautious and patient. They stood still as 
carved stones, breathing and listening. 

'Then all at once there was a tremendous stir. Trumpets blared and the 
walls of Isengard echoed. We thought that we had been discovered, and that 
battle was going to begin. But nothing of the sort. All Saruman's people 
were marching away. I don't know much about this war, or about the 
Horsemen 

of Rohan, but Saruman seems to have meant to finish off the king and all his 
men with one final blow. He emptied Isengard. I saw the enemy go: endless 
lines of marching Ores; and troops of them mounted on great wolves. And 
there were battalions of Men, too. Many of them carried torches, and in the 
flare I could see their faces. Most of them were ordinary men, rather tall 
and dark-haired, and grim but not particularly evil -looking. But there were 
some others that were horrible: man-high, but with goblin-faces, sallow, 
leering, squint-eyed. Do you know, they reminded me at once of that 
Southerner at Bree: only he was not so obviously ore-like as most of these 
were.' 

'I thought of him too,' said Aragorn. 'We had many of these half-ores 
to deal with at Helm's Deep. It seems plain now that that Southerner was a 




spy of Saruman’s; but whether he was working with the Black Riders, or for 
Saruman alone, I do not know. It is difficult with these evil folk to know 
when they are in league, and when they are cheating one another.' 

'Well, of all sorts together, there must have been ten thousand at the 
very least,' said Merry. 'They took an hour to pass out of the gates. Some 
went off down the highway to the Fords, and some turned away p and went 
eastward. A bridge has been built down there, about a mile away, where the 
river runs in a very deep channel. You could see it now, if you stood up. 

They were all singing with harsh voices, and laughing, making a hideous din. 

I thought things looked very black for Rohan. But Treebeard did not move. He 
said: 'My business is with Isengard tonight, with rock and stone.' 

'But, though I could not see what was happening in the dark, I believe 
that Huorns began to move south, as soon as the gates were shut again. Their 
business was with Ores I think. They were far down the valley in the 
morning; or any rate there was a shadow there that one couldn't see through. 

'As soon as Saruman had sent off all his army, our turn came. Treebeard 
put us down, and went up to the gates, and began hammering on the doors, and 
calling for Saruman. There was no answer, except arrows and stones from the 
walls. But arrows are no use against Ents. They hurt them, of course, and 
infuriate them: like stinging flies. But an Ent can be stuck as full of 
ore-arrows as a pin-cushion, and take no serious harm. They cannot be 
poisoned, for one thing; and their skin seems to be very thick, and tougher 
than bark. It takes a very heavy axe-stroke to wound them seriously. They 
don't like axes. But there would have to be a great many axe -men to one Ent: 
a man that hacks once at an Ent never gets a chance of a second blow. A 
punch from an Ent-fist crumples up iron like thin tin. 

'When Treebeard had got a few arrows in him, he began to warm up, to 
get positively "hasty", as he would say. He let out a great hoom-hom, and a 
dozen more Ents came striding up. An angry Ent is terrifying. Their fingers, 
and their toes, just freeze on to rock; and they tear it up like 
bread-crust. It was like watching the work of great tree-roots in a hundred 
years, all packed into a few moments. 

'They pushed, pulled, tore, shook, and hammered; and clang-bang, 
crash-crack, in five minutes they had these huge gates just lying in ruin; 
and some were already beginning to eat into the walls, like rabbits in a 
sand-pit. I don't know what Saruman thought was happening; but anyway he 
did 




not know how to deal with it. His wizardry may have been falling off lately, 
of course; but anyway I think he has not much grit, not much plain courage 
alone in a tight place without a lot of slaves and machines and things, if 
you know what I mean. Very different from old Gandalf. I wonder if his fame 
was not all along mainly due to his cleverness in settling at Isengard.’ 

'No,' said Aragorn. 'Once he was as great as his fame made him. His 
knowledge was deep, his thought was subtle, and his hands marvellously 
skilled; and he had a power over the minds of others. The wise he could 
persuade, and the smaller folk he could daunt. That power he certainly still 
keeps. There are not many in Middle-earth that I should say were safe, if 
they were left alone to talk with him, even now when he has suffered a 
defeat. Gandalf, Elrond, and Galadriel, perhaps, now that his wickedness has 
been laid bare, but very few others.' 

'The Ents are safe,' said Pippin. 'He seems at one time to have got 
round them, but never again. And anyway he did not understand them; and he 
made the great mistake of leaving them out of his calculations. He had no 
plan for them, and there was no time to make any, once they had set to work. 
As soon as our attack began, the few remaining rats in Isengard started 
bolting through every hole that the Ents made. The Ents let the Men go, 
after they had questioned them, two or three dozen only down at this end. I 
don't think many ore-folk, of any size, escaped. Not from the Huorns: there 
was a wood full of them all round Isengard by that time, as well as those 
that had gone down the valley. 

'When the Ents had reduced a large part of the southern walls to 
rubbish, and what was left of his people had bolted and deserted him, 
Saruman fled in a panic. He seems to have been at the gates when we arrived: 

I expect he came to watch his splendid army march out. When the Ents broke 
their way in, he left in a hurry. They did not spot him at first. But the 
night had opened out, and there was a great light of stars, quite enough for 
Ents to see by, and suddenly Quickbeam gave a cry "The tree-killer, the 
tree-killer!" Quickbeam is a gentle creature, but he hates Saruman all the 
more fiercely for that: his people suffered cruelly from ore-axes. He leapt 
down the path from the inner gate, and he can move like a wind when he is 
roused. There was a pale figure hurrying away in and out of the shadows of 
the pillars, and it had nearly reached the stairs to the tower-door. But it 
was a near thing. Quickbeam was so hot after him, that he was within a step 
or two of being caught and strangled when he slipped in through the door. 




’When Saruman was safe back in Orthanc, it was not long before he set 
some of his precious machinery to work. By that time there were many Ents 
inside Isengard: some had followed Quickbeam, and others had burst in from 
the north and east; they were roaming about and doing a great deal of 
damage. Suddenly up came fires and foul fumes: the vents and shafts all over 
the plain began to spout and belch. Several of the Ents got scorched and 
blistered. One of them, Beechbone I think he was called, a very tall 
handsome Ent, got caught in a spray of some liquid fire and burned like a 
torch: a horrible sight. 

'That sent them mad. I thought that they had been really roused before; 
but I was wrong. I saw what it was like at last. It was staggering. They 
roared and boomed and trumpeted, until stones began to crack and fall at the 
mere noise of them. Merry and I lay on the ground and stuffed our cloaks 
into our ears. Round and round the rock of Orthanc the Ents went striding 
and storming like a howling gale, breaking pillars, hurling avalanches of 
boulders down the shafts, tossing up huge slabs of stone into the air like 
leaves. The tower was in the middle of a spinning whirlwind. I saw iron 
posts and blocks of masonry go rocketing up hundreds of feet, and smash 
against the windows of Orthanc. But Treebeard kept his head. lie had not had 
any burns, luckily. He did not want his folk to hurt themselves in their 
fury, and he did not want Saruman to escape out of some hole in the 
confusion. Many of the Ents were hurling themselves against the 
Orthanc -rock; but that defeated them. It is very smooth and hard. Some 
wizardry is in it, perhaps, older and stronger than Saruman’s. Anyway they 
could not get a grip on it, or make a crack in it; and they were bruising 
and wounding themselves against it. ’So Treebeard went out into the ring and 
shouted. His enormous voice rose above all the din. There was a dead 
silence, suddenly. In it we heard a shrill laugh from a high window in the 
tower. That had a queer effect on the Ents. They had been boiling over; now 
they became cold, grim as ice, and quiet. They left the plain and gathered 
round Treebeard, standing quite still. He spoke to them for a little in 
their own language; I think he was telling them of a plan he had made in his 
old head long before. Then they just faded silently away in the grey light. 

Day was dawning by that time. 

'They set a watch on the tower, I believe, but the watchers were so 
well hidden in shadows and kept so still, that I could not see them. The 
others went away north. All that day they were busy, out of sight. Most of 




the time we were left alone. It was a dreary day; and we wandered about a 
bit, though we kept out of the view of the windows of Orthanc, as much as we 
could: they stared at us so threateningly. A good deal of the time we spent 
looking for something to eat. And also we sat and talked, wondering what was 
happening away south in Rohan, and what had become of all the rest of our 
Company. Every now and then we could hear in the distance the rattle and 
fall of stone, and thudding noises echoing in the hills. 

’In the afternoon we walked round the circle, and went to have a look 
at what was going on. There was a great shadowy wood of Huorns at the head 
of the valley, and another round the northern wall. We did not dare to go 
in. But there was a rending, tearing noise of work going on inside. Ents and 
Huorns were digging great pits and trenches, and making great pools and 
dams, gathering all the waters of the Isen and every other spring and stream 
that they could find. We left them to it. 

'At dusk Treebeard came back to the gate. He was humming and booming to 
himself, and seemed pleased. He stood and stretched his great arms and legs 
and breathed deep. I asked him if he was tired. 

' "Tired?" he said, "tired? Well no, not tired, but stiff. I need a 
good draught of Entwash. We have worked hard; we have done more 
stone -cracking and earth-gnawing today than we have done in many a long 
year 

before. But it is nearly finished. When night falls do not linger near this 
gate or in the old tunnel! Water may come through-and it will be foul water 
for a while, until all the filth of Saruman is washed away. Then Isen can 
run clean again." He began to pull down a bit more of the walls, in a 
leisurely sort of way, just to amuse himself. 

'We were just wondering where it would be safe to lie and get some 
sleep, when the most amazing thing of all happened. There was the sound of a 
rider coming swiftly up the road. Merry and I lay quiet, and Treebeard hid 
himself in the shadows under the arch. Suddenly a great horse came striding 
up, like a flash of silver. It was already dark, but I could see the rider's 
face clearly: it seemed to shine, and all his clothes were white. I just sat 
up, staring, with my mouth open. I tried to call out, and couldn't. 

'There was no need. He halted just by us and looked down at us. 
'Gandalf!' I said at last, but my voice was only a whisper. Did he say: 

"Hullo, Pippin! This is a pleasant surprise!"? No, indeed! He said: "Get up, 
you tom-fool of a Took! Where, in the name of wonder, in all this ruin is 




Treebeard? I want him. Quick!" 

’Treebeard heard his voice and came out of the shadows at once; and 
there was a strange meeting. I was surprised, because neither of them seemed 
surprised at all. Gandalf obviously expected to find Treebeard here; and 
Treebeard might almost have been loitering about near the gates on purpose 
to meet him. Yet we had told the old Entail about Moria. But then I 
remembered a queer look he gave us at the time. I can only suppose that he 
had seen Gandalf or had some news of him, but would not say anything in a 
hurry. "Don’t be hasty" is his motto; but nobody, not even Elves, will say 
much about Gandalf s movements when he is not there. 

'"Hoorn! Gandalf!" said Treebeard. "I am glad you have come. Wood and 
water, stock and stone, I can master; but there is a Wizard to manage here." 

'"Treebeard," said Gandalf. "I need your help. You have done much, but 
I need more. I have about ten thousand Ores to manage." 

'Then those two went off and had a council together in some corner. It 
must have seemed very hasty to Treebeard, for Gandalf was in a tremendous 
hurry, and was already talking at a great pace, before they passed out of 
hearing. They were only away a matter of minutes, perhaps a quarter of an 
hour. Then Gandalf came back to us, and he seemed relieved, almost merry. He 
did say he was glad to see us, then. 

"'But Gandalf," I cried, "where have you been? And have you seen the 
others?" 

"'Wherever I have been, I am back," he answered in the genuine Gandalf 
manner. "Yes, I have seen some of the others. But news must wait. This is a 
perilous night, and I must ride fast. But the dawn may be brighter; and if 
so, we shall meet again. Take care of yourselves, and keep away from 
Orthanc! Good-bye!" 

'Treebeard was very thoughtful after Gandalf had gone. He had evidently 
learnt a lot in a short time and was digesting it. He looked at us and said: 

"Hm, well, I find you are not such hasty folk as I thought. You said much 
less than you might, and not more than you should. Hm, this is a bundle of 
news and no mistake! Well, now Treebeard must get busy again." 

'Before he went, we got a little news out of him; and it did not cheer 
us up at all. But for the moment we thought more about you three than about 
Frodo and Sam, or about poor Boromir. For we gathered that there was a great 
battle going on, or soon would be, and that you were in it, and might never 
come out of it. 




'"Huorns will help," said Treebeard. Then he went away and we did not 
see him again until this morning. 

'It was deep night. We lay on top of a pile of stone, and could see 
nothing beyond it. Mist or shadows blotted out everything like a great 
blanket all round us. The air seemed hot and heavy; and it was full of 
rustlings, creakings, and a murmur like voices passing. I think that 
hundreds more of the Huorns must have been passing by to help in the battle. 
Later there was a great rumble of thunder away south, and flashes of 
lightning far away across Rohan. Every now and then we could see 
mountain-peaks, miles and miles away, stab out suddenly, black and white, 
and then vanish. And behind us there were noises like thunder in hills, but 
different. At times the whole valley echoed. 

'It must have been about midnight when the Ents broke the dams and 
poured all the gathered waters through a gap in the northern wall, down into 
Isengard. The Huorn-dark had passed, and the thunder had rolled away. The 
Moon was sinking behind the western mountains. 

'Isengard began to fill up with black creeping streams and pools. They 
glittered in the last light of the Moon, as they spread over the plain. 

Every now and then the waters found their way down into some shaft or 
spouthole. Great white steams hissed up. Smoke rose in billows. There were 
explosions and gusts of fire. One great coil of vapour went whirling up, 
twisting round and round Orthanc, until it looked like a tall peak of cloud, 
fiery underneath and moonlit above. And still more water poured in, until at 
last Isengard looked like a huge flat saucepan, all steaming and bubbling.' 

'We saw a cloud of smoke and steam from the south last night when we 
came to the mouth of Nan Curunnr,' said Aragorn. 'We feared that Saruman 
was 

brewing some new devilry for us.' 

'Not he!' said Pippin. 'He was probably choking and not laughing any 
more. By the morning, yesterday morning, the water had sunk down into all 
the holes, and there was a dense fog. We took refuge in that guardroom over 
there; and we had rather a fright. The lake began to overflow and pour out 
through the old tunnel, and the water was rapidly rising up the steps. We 
thought we were going to get caught like Ores in a hole; but we found a 
winding stair at the back of the store-room that brought us out on top of 
the arch. It was a squeeze to get out, as the passages had been cracked and 
half blocked with fallen stone near the top. There we sat high up above the 




floods and watched the drowning of Isengard. The Ents kept on pouring in 
more water, till all the fires were quenched and every cave filled. The fogs 
slowly gathered together and steamed up into a huge umbrella of cloud: it 
must have been a mile high. In the evening there was a great rainbow over 
the eastern hills; and then the sunset was blotted out by a thick drizzle on 
the mountain-sides. It all went very quiet. A few wolves howled mournfully, 
far away. The Ents stopped the inflow in the night, and sent the Isen back 
into its old course. And that was the end of it all. 

’Since then the water has been sinking again. There must be outlets 
somewhere from the caves underneath, I think. If Saruman peeps out of any of 
his windows, it must look an untidy, dreary mess. We felt very lonely. Not 
even a visible Ent to talk to in all the ruin; and no news. We spent the 
night up on top there above the arch, and it was cold and damp and we did 
not sleep. We had a feeling that anything might happen at any minute. 
Saruman is still in his tower. There was a noise in the night like a wind 
coming up the valley. I think the Ents and Huorns that had been away came 
back then; but where they have all gone to now, I don't know. It was a 
misty, moisty morning when we climbed down and looked round again, 
and 

nobody was about. And that is about all there is to tell. It seems almost 
peaceful now after all the turmoil. And safer too, somehow, since Gandalf 
came back. I could sleep!' 

They all fell silent for a while. Gimli re-filled his pipe. 'There is 
one thing I wonder about,' he said as he lit it with his flint and tinder: 
'Wormtongue. You told Thjoden he was with Saruman. How did he get there?' 

'Oh yes, I forgot about him,' said Pippin. 'He did not get here till 
this morning. We had just lit the fire and had some breakfast when Treebeard 
appeared again. We heard him hooming and calling our names outside. 

"'I have just come round to see how you are faring, my lads,' he said; 

'and to give you some news. Huorns have come back. All's well; aye very well 
indeed!" he laughed, and slapped his thighs. "No more Ores in Isengard, no 
more axes! And there will be folk coming up from the South before the day is 
old; some that you may be glad to see." 

'He had hardly said that, when we heard the sound of hoofs on the road. 

We rushed out before the gates, and I stood and stared, half expecting to 
see Strider and Gandalf come riding up at the head of an army. But out of 
the mist there rode a man on an old tired horse; and he looked a queer 




twisted sort of creature himself. There was no one else. When he came, out 
of the mist and suddenly saw all the ruin and wreckage in front of him, he 
sat and gaped, and his face went almost green. He was so bewildered that he 
did not seem to notice us at first. When he did, he gave a cry, and tried to 
turn his horse round and ride off. But Treebeard took three strides, put out 
a long arm, and lifted him out of the saddle. His horse bolted in terror, 
and he grovelled on the ground. He said he was Grnma, friend and counsellor 
of the king, and had been sent with important messages from Thjoden to 
Saruman. 

'"No one else would dare to ride through the open land, so full of foul 
Ores," he said, "so I was sent. And I have had a perilous journey, and I am 
hungry and weary. I fled far north out of my way, pursued by wolves." 

'I caught the sidelong looks he gave to Treebeard, and I said to myself 
"liar". Treebeard looked at him in his long slow way for several minutes, 
till the wretched man was squirming on the floor. Then at last he said: "Ha, 
hm, I was expecting you, Master Wormtongue." The man started at that name. 
"Gandalf got here first. So I know as much about you as I need, and I know 
what to do with you. Put all the rats in one trap, said Gandalf; and I will. 

I am the master of Isengard now, but Saruman is locked in his tower; and you 
can go there and give him all the messages that you can think of." 

'"Let me go, let me go!" said Wormtongue. "I know the way." 

"'You knew the way, I don't doubt," said Treebeard. "But things have 
changed here a little. Go and see!" 

'He let Wormtongue go, and he limped off through the arch with us close 
behind, until he came inside the ring and could see all the floods that lay 
between him and Orthanc. Then he turned to us. 

"'Let me go away!" he whined. "Let me go away! My messages are useless 
now." 

"'They are indeed," said Treebeard. "But you have only two choices: to 
stay with me until Gandalf and your master arrive; or to cross the water. 
Which will you have?" 

'The man shivered at the mention of his master, and put a foot into the 
water; but he drew back. "I cannot swim," he said. 

"'The water is not deep," said Treebeard. "It is dirty, but that will 
not harm you, Master Wormtongue. In you go now!" 

'With that the wretch floundered off into the flood. It rose up nearly 
to his neck before he got too far away for me to see him. The last I saw of 




him was clinging to some old barrel or piece of wood. But Treebeard waded 
after him, and watched his progress. 

'"Well, he has gone in," he said when he returned. "I saw him crawling 
up the steps like a draggled rat. There is someone in the tower still: a 
hand came out and pulled him in. So there he is, and I hope the welcome is 
to his liking. Now I must go and wash myself clean of the slime. I'll be 
away up on the north side, if anyone wants to see me. There is no clean 
water down here fit for an Ent to drink, or to bathe in. So I will ask you 
two lads to keep a watch at the gate for the folk that are coming. There’ll 
be the Lord of the Fields of Rohan, mark you! You must welcome him as well 
as you know how: his men have fought a great fight with the Ores. Maybe, you 
know the right fashion of Men's words for such a lord, better than Ents. 

There have been many lords in the green fields in my time, and I have never 
learned their speech or their names. They will be wanting man-food, and you 
know all about that, I guess. So find what you think is fit for a king to 
eat, if you can." And that is the end of the story. Though I should like to 
know who this Wormtongue is. Was he really the king's counsellor?' 

'He was,' said Aragorn; 'and also Saruman's spy and servant in Rohan. 

Fate has not been kinder to him than he deserves. The sight of the ruin of 
all that he thought so strong and magnificent must have been almost 
punishment enough. But I fear that worse awaits him.' 

'Yes, I don't suppose Treebeard sent him to Orthanc out of kindness,' 
said Merry. 'He seemed rather grimly delighted with the business and was 
laughing to himself when he went to get his bathe and drink. We spent a busy 
time after that, searching the flotsam, and rummaging about. We found two or 
three store-rooms in different places nearby, above the flood-level. But 
Treebeard sent some Ents down, and they carried off a great deal of the 
stuff. 

"'We want man-food for twenty-five," the Ents said, so you can see that 
somebody had counted your company carefully before you arrived. You three 
were evidently meant to go with the great people. But you would not have 
fared any better. We kept as good as we sent, I promise you. Better, because 
we sent no drink. 

"'What about drink?" I said to the Ents. 

"'There is water of Isen," they said, "and that is good enough for Ents 
and Men." But I hope that the Ents may have found time to brew some of their 
draughts from the mountain-springs, and we shall see Gandalf's beard curling 




when he returns. After the Ents had gone, we felt tired, and hungry. But we 
did not grumble — our labours had been well rewarded. It was through our 
search for man-food that Pippin discovered the prize of all the flotsam, 
those Hornblower barrels. "Pipe-weed is better after food," said Pippin; 
that is how the situation arose.' 

'We understand it all perfectly now,' said Gimli. 

'All except one thing,' said Aragorn: 'leaf from the Southfarthing in 
Isengard. The more I consider it, the more curious I find it. I have never 
been in Isengard, but I have journeyed in this land, and I know well the 
empty countries that lie between Rohan and the Shire. Neither goods nor folk 
have passed that way for many a long year, not openly. Saruman had secret 
dealings with someone in the Shire, I guess. Wormtongues may be found in 
other houses than King Thjoden's. Was there a date on the barrels?' 

'Yes,' said Pippin. 'It was the 1417 crop, that is last year's; no, the 
year before, of course, now: a good year.' 

'Ah well, whatever evil was afoot is over now, I hope; or else it is 
beyond our reach at present,' said Aragorn. 'Yet I think I shall mention it 
to Gandalf, small matter though it may seem among his great affairs.' 

'I wonder what he is doing,' said Merry. 'The afternoon is getting on. 

Let us go and look round! You can enter Isengard now at any rate, Strider, 
if you want to. But it is not a very cheerful sight.' 




Chapter 10. The Voice of Saruman 



They passed through the ruined tunnel and stood upon a heap of stones, 
gazing at the dark rock of Orthanc, and its many windows, a menace still in 
the desolation that lay all about it. The waters had now nearly all 
subsided. Here and there gloomy pools remained, covered with scum and 
wreckage; but most of the wide circle was bare again, a wilderness of slime 
and tumbled rock, pitted with blackened holes, and dotted with posts and 
pillars leaning drunkenly this way and that. At the rim of the shattered 
bowl there lay vast mounds and slopes, like the shingles cast up by a great 
storm; and beyond them the green and tangled valley ran up into the long 
ravine between the dark arms of the mountains. Across the waste they saw 
riders picking their way; they were coming from the north side, and already 
they were drawing near to Orthanc. 

There is Gandalf, and Thjoden and his men!' said Legolas. 'Let us go 
and meet them!' 

'Walk warily!' said Merry. 'There are loose slabs that may tilt up and 
throw you down into a pit, if you don't take care.' 

They followed what was left of the road from the gates to Orthanc, 
going slowly, for the flag-stones were cracked and slimed. The riders, 
seeing them approach, halted under the shadow of the rock and waited for 
them. Gandalf rode forward to meet them. 

'Well, Treebeard and I have had some interesting discussions, and made 
a few plans,' he said; 'and we have all had some much-needed rest. Now we 
must be going on again. I hope you companions have all rested, too, and 
refreshed yourselves?' 

'We have,' said Merry. 'But our discussions began and ended in smoke. 
Still we feel less ill-disposed towards Saruman than we did.' 

'Do you indeed?' said Gandalf. 'Well, I do not. I have now a last task 
to do before I go: I must pay Saruman a farewell visit. Dangerous, and 
probably useless; but it must be done. Those of you who wish may come with 
me — but beware! And do not jest! This is not the time for it.' 

'I will come,' said Gimli. 'I wish to see him and learn if he really 
looks like you.' 

'And how will you learn that, Master Dwarf?' said Gandalf. 'Saruman 




could look like me in your eyes, if it suited his purpose with you. And are 
you yet wise enough to detect all his counterfeits? Well, we shall see, 
perhaps. He may be shy of showing himself before many different eyes 
together. But I have ordered all the Ents to remove themselves from sight, 
so perhaps we shall persuade him to come out.' 

’What's the danger?’ asked Pippin. 'Will he shoot at us, and pour fire 
out of the windows; or can he put a spell on us from a distance?' 

'The last is most likely, if you ride to his door with a light heart,' 
said Gandalf. 'But there is no knowing what he can do, or may choose to try. 

A wild beast cornered is not safe to approach. And Saruman has powers you do 
not guess. Beware of his voice!' 

They came now to the foot of Orthanc. It was black, and the rock 
gleamed as if it were wet. The many faces of the stone had sharp edges as 
though they had been newly chiselled. A few scorings, and small flake-like 
splinters near the base, were all the marks that it bore of the fury of the 
Ents. 

On the eastern side, in the angle of two piers, there was a great door, 
high above the ground; and over it was a shuttered window, opening upon a 
balcony hedged with iron bars. Up to the threshold of the door there mounted 
a flight of twenty-seven broad stairs, hewn by some unknown art of the same 
black stone. This was the only entrance to the tower; but many tall windows 
were cut with deep embrasures in the climbing walls: far up they peered like 
little eyes in the sheer faces of the horns. 

At the foot of the stairs Gandalf and the king dismounted. 'I will go 
up,' said Gandalf. 'I have been in Orthanc and I know my peril.' 

'And I too will go up,' said the king. 'I am old, and fear no peril any 
more. I wish to speak with the enemy who has done me so much wrong. 
Jomer 

shall come with me, and see that my aged feet do not falter.' 

'As you will,' said Gandalf. 'Aragorn shall come with me. Let the 
others await us at the foot of the stairs. They will hear and see enough, if 
there is anything to hear or see.' 

'Nay!' said Gimli. 'Legolas and I wish for a closer view. We alone here 
represent our kindred. We also will come behind.' 

'Come then!' said Gandalf, and with that he climbed the steps, and 
Thjoden went beside him. 

The Riders of Rohan sat uneasily upon their horses, on either side of 




the stair, and looked up darkly at the great tower, fearing what might 
befall their lord. Merry and Pippin sat on the bottom step, feeling both 
unimportant and unsafe. 

'Half a sticky mile from here to the gate!' muttered Pippin. 'I wish I 
could slip off back to the guardroom unnoticed! What did we come for? We are 
not wanted.' 

Gandalf stood before the door of Orthanc and beat on it with his staff. 

It rang with a hollow sound. 'Saruman, Saruman!' he cried in a loud 
commanding voice. 'Saruman come forth!' 

For some time there was no answer. At last the window above the door 
was unbarred, hut no figure could be seen at its dark opening. 

'Who is it?' said a voice. 'What do you wish?' 

Thjoden started. 'I know that voice,' he said, 'and I curse the day 
when I first listened to it.' 

'Go and fetch Saruman, since you have become his footman, Grnma 
Wormtongue!' said Gandalf. 'And do not waste our time!' 

The window closed. They waited. Suddenly another voice spoke, low and 
melodious, its very sound an enchantment. Those who listened unwarily to 
that voice could seldom report the words that they heard; and if they did, 
they wondered, for little power remained in them. Mostly they remembered 
only that it was a delight to hear the voice speaking, all that it said 
seemed wise and reasonable, and desire awoke in them by swift agreement to 
seem wise themselves. When others spoke they seemed harsh and uncouth 
by 

contrast; and if they gainsaid the voice, anger was kindled in the hearts of 
those under the spell. Fur some the spell lasted only while the voice spoke 
to them, and when it spake to another they smiled, as men do who see through 
a juggler's trick while others gape at it. For many the sound of the voice 
alone was enough to hold them enthralled; but for those whom it conquered 
the spell endured when they were far away, and ever they heard that soft 
voice whispering and urging them. But none were unmoved; none rejected its 
pleas and its commands without an effort of mind and will, so long as its 
master had control of it. 

'Well?' it said now with gentle question. 'Why must you disturb my 
rest? Will you give me no peace at all by night or day?' Its tone was that 
of a kindly heart aggrieved by injuries undeserved. 

They looked up, astonished, for they had heard no sound of his coming; 




and they saw a figure standing at the rail, looking down upon them: an old 
man, swathed in a great cloak, the colour of which was not easy to tell, for 
it changed if they moved their eyes or if he stirred. His face was long, 
with a high forehead, he had deep darkling eyes, hard to fathom, though the 
look that they now bore was grave and benevolent, and a little weary. His 
hair and beard were white, but strands of black still showed about his lips 
and ears. 

'Like, and yet unlike,’ muttered Gimli. 

'But come now,' said the soft voice. 'Two at least of you I know by 
name. Gandalf I know too well to have much hope that he seeks help or 
counsel here. But you, Thjoden Lord of the Mark of Rohan are declared by 
your noble devices, and still more by the fair countenance of the House of 
Eorl. O worthy son of Thengel the Thrice-renowned! Why have you not 
come 

before, and as a friend? Much have I desired to see you, mightiest king of 
western lands, and especially in these latter years, to save you from the 
unwise and evil counsels that beset you ! Is it yet too late? Despite the 
injuries that have been done to me, in which the men of Rohan, alas! have 
had some part, still I would save you, and deliver you from the ruin that 
draws nigh inevitably, if you ride upon this road which you have taken. 
Indeed I alone can aid you now.' 

Thjoden opened his mouth as if to speak, but he said nothing. He looked 
up at the face of Saruman with its dark solemn eyes bent down upon him, and 
then to Gandalf at his side; and he seemed to hesitate. Gandalf made no 
sign; but stood silent as stone, as one waiting patiently for some call that 
has not yet come. The Riders stirred at first, murmuring with approval of 
the words of Saruman; and then they too were silent, as men spell-bound. It 
seemed to them that Gandalf had never spoken so fair and fittingly to their 
lord. Rough and proud now seemed all his dealings with Thjoden. And over 
their hearts crept a shadow, the fear of a great danger: the end of the Mark 
in a darkness to which Gandalf was driving them, while Saruman stood beside 
a door of escape, holding it half open so that a ray of light came through. 
There was a heavy silence. 

It was Gimli the dwarf who broke in suddenly. 'The words of this wizard 
stand on their heads,' he growled, gripping the handle of his axe. 'In the 
language of Orthanc help means ruin, and saving means slaying, that is 
plain. But we do not come here to beg.' 




’Peace!' said Saruman, and for a fleeting moment his voice was less 
suave, and a light flickered in his eyes and was gone. 'I do not speak to 
you yet, Gimli Gluin's son,' he said. ’Far away is your home and small 
concern of yours are the troubles of this land. But it was not by design of 
your own that you became embroiled in them, and so I will not blame such 
part as you have played-a valiant one, I doubt not. But I pray you, allow me 
first to speak with the King of Rohan, my neighbour, and once my friend. 

’What have you to say, Thjoden King? Will you have peace with me, and 
all the aid that my knowledge, founded in long years, can bring? Shall we 
make our counsels together against evil days, and repair our injuries with 
such good will that our estates shall both come to fairer flower than ever 
before?' 

Still Thjoden did not answer. Whether he strove with anger or doubt 
none could say. Jomer spoke. 

'Lord, hear me!' he said. 'Now we feel the peril that we were warned 
of. Have we ridden forth to victory, only to stand at last amazed by an old 
liar with honey on his forked tongue? So would the trapped wolf speak to the 
hounds, if he could. What aid can he give to you, forsooth? All he desires 
is to escape from his plight. But will you parley with this dealer in 
treachery and murder? Remember Thjodred at the Fords, and the grave of 
Hbma 

in Helm's Deep!' 

'If we speak of poisoned tongues what shall we say of yours, young 
serpent?' said Saruman, and the flash of his anger was now plain to see. 

'But come, Jomer, Jomund's son!' he went on in his soft voice again. To 
every man h part. Valour in arms is yours, and you win high honour thereby. 
Slay whom your lord names as enemies, and be content. Meddle not in policies 
which you do not understand. But maybe, if you become a king, you Will find 
that he must choose his friends with care. The friendship of Saruman and the 
power of Orthanc cannot be lightly thrown aside, whatever grievances, real 
or fancied, may lie behind. You have won a battle but not a war and that 
with help on which you cannot count again. You may find the Shadow of the 
Wood at your own door next: it is wayward, and senseless, and has no love 
for Men. 

'But my lord of Rohan, am I to be called a murderer, because valiant 
men have fallen in battle? If you go to war, needlessly, for I did not 
desire it, then men will be slain. But if I am a murderer on that account, 




then all the House of Eorl is stained with murder; for they have fought many 
wars, and assailed many who defied them. Yet with some they have afterwards 
made peace, none the worse for being politic. I say, Thjoden King: shall we 
have peace and friendship, you and I? It is ours to command ' 

'We will have peace,' said Thjoden at last thickly and with an effort. 

Several of the Riders cried out gladly. Thjoden held up his hand. 'Yes, we 
will have peace,' he said, now in a clear voice, 'we will have peace, when 
you and all your works have perished — and the works of your dark master to 
whom you would deliver us. You are a liar. Saruman, and a corrupter of men's 
hearts. You hold out your hand to me, and I perceive only a finger of the 
claw of Mordor. Cruel and cold! Even if your war on me was just as it was 
not, for were you ten times as wise you would have no right to rule me and 
mine for your own profit as you desired — even so, what will you say of 
your torches in Westfold and the children that lie dead there? And they 
hewed Hbma's body before the gates of the Hornburg, after he was dead. 

When 

you hang from a gibbet at your window for the sport of your own crows, I 
will have peace with you and Orthanc. So much for the House of Eorl. A 
lesser son of great sires am I, but I do not need to lick your fingers. Turn 
elsewhither. But I fear your voice has lost its charm.' 

The Riders gazed up at Thjoden like men startled out of a dream. Harsh 
as an old raven's their master's voice sounded in their ears after the music 
of Saruman. But Saruman for a while was beside himself with wrath. He leaned 
over the rail as if he would smite the King with his staff. To some suddenly 
it seemed that they saw a snake coiling itself to strike. 

'Gibbets and crows!' he hissed, and they shuddered at the hideous 
change. 'Dotard! What is the house of Eorl but a thatched barn where 
brigands drink in the reek, and their brats roll on the floor among the 
dogs? Too long have they escaped the gibbet themselves. But the noose comes, 
slow in the drawing, tight and hard in the end. Hang if you will!' Now his 
voice changed, as he slowly mastered himself. 'I know not why I have had the 
patience to speak to you. For I need you not, nor your little band of 
gallopers, as swift to fly as to advance, Thjoden Horsemaster. Long ago I 
offered you a state beyond your merit and your wit. I have offered it again, 
so that those whom you mislead may clearly see the choice of roads. You give 
me brag and abuse. So be it. Go back to your huts! 

'But you, Gandalf ! For you at least I am grieved, feeling for your 




shame. How comes it that you can endure such company? For you are proud, 
Gandalf-and not without reason, having a noble mind and eyes that look both 
deep and far. Even now will you not listen to my counsel?' 

Gandalf stirred, and looked up. ’What have you to say that you did not 
say at our last meeting?' he asked. 'Or, perhaps, you have things to unsay?' 

Saruman paused. 'Unsay?' he mused, as if puzzled. 'Unsay? I endeavoured 
to advise you for your own good, but you scarcely listened. You are proud 
and do not love advice, having indeed a store of your own wisdom. But on 
that occasion you erred, I think, misconstruing my intentions wilfully. I 
fear that in my eagerness to persuade you, I lost patience. And indeed I 
regret it. For I bore you no ill-will; and even now I bear none, though you 
return to me in the company of the violent and the ignorant. How should I? 
Are we not both members of a high and ancient order, most excellent in 
Middle-earth? Our friendship would profit us both alike. Much we could still 
accomplish together, to heal the disorders of the world. Let us understand 
one another, and dismiss from thought these lesser folk! Let them wait on 
our decisions ! For the common good I am willing to redress the past, and to 
receive you. Will you not consult with me? Will you not come up?' 

So great was the power that Saruman exerted in this last effort that 
none that stood within hearing were unmoved. But now the spell was wholly 
different. They heard the gentle remonstrance of a kindly king with an 
erring but much-loved minister. But they were shut out, listening at a door 
to words not meant for them: ill-mannered children or stupid servants 
overhearing the elusive discourse of their elders, and wondering how it 
would affect their lot. Of loftier mould these two were made: reverend and 
wise. It was inevitable that they should make alliance. Gandalf would ascend 
into the tower, to discuss deep things beyond their comprehension in the 
high chambers of Orthanc. The door would be closed, and they would be left 
outside, dismissed to await allotted work or punishment. Even in the mind of 
Thjoden the thought took shape, like a shadow of doubt: 'He will betray us; 
he will go — we shall be lost.' 

Then Gandalf laughed. The fantasy vanished like a puff of smoke. 

'Saruman, Saruman!' said Gandalf still laughing. 'Saruman, you missed 
your path in life. You should have been the king's jester and earned your 
bread, and stripes too, by mimicking his counsellors. Ah me!' he paused, 
getting the better of his mirth. 'Understand one another? I fear I am beyond 
your comprehension. But you, Saruman, I understand now too well. I keep a 




clearer memory of your arguments, and deeds, than you suppose. When last I 
visited you, you were the jailor of Mordor, and there I was to be sent. Nay, 
the guest who has escaped from the roof, will think twice before he comes 
back in by the door. Nay, I do not think I will come up. But listen, 
Saruman, for the last time! Will you not come down? Isengard has proved less 
strong than your hope and fancy made it. So may other things in which you 
still have trust. Would it not be well to leave it for a while? To turn to 
new things, perhaps? Think well, Saruman! Will you not come down?' 

A shadow passed over Saruman's face; then it went deathly white. Before 
he could conceal it, they saw through the mask the anguish of a mind in 
doubt, loathing to stay and dreading to leave its refuge. For a second he 
hesitated, and no one breathed. Then he spoke, and his voice was shrill and 
cold. Pride and hate were conquering him. 

'Will I come down?' he mocked. 'Does an unarmed man come down to 
speak 

with robbers out of doors? I can hear you w ell enough here. I am no fool, 
and I do not trust you, Gandalf. They do not stand openly on my stairs, but 
I know where the wild wood-demons are lurking, at your command.' 

'The treacherous are ever distrustful,' answered Gandalf wearily. 'But 
you need not fear for your skin. I do not wish to kill you, or hurt you, as 
you would know, if you really understood me. And I have the power to protect 
you. I am giving you a last chance. You can leave Orthanc, free — if you 
choose.' 

'That sounds well,' sneered Saruman. 'Very much in the manner of 
Gandalf the Grey: so condescending, and so very kind. I do not doubt that 
you would find Orthanc commodious, and my departure convenient. But 
why 

should I wish to leave? And what do you mean by 'free'? There are 
conditions, I presume?' 

'Reasons for leaving you can see from your windows.' answered Gandalf. 
'Others will occur to your thought. Your servants are destroyed and 
scattered; your neighbours you have made your enemies; and you have cheated 
your new master, or tried to do so. When his eye turns hither, it will be 
the red eye of wrath. But when I say 'free', I mean 'free': free from bond, 
of chain or command: to go where you will, even, even to Mordor, Saruman, if 
you desire. But you will first surrender to me the Key of Orthanc, and your 
staff. They shall be pledges of your conduct, to be returned later, if you 




merit them.' 

Saruman's face grew livid, twisted with rage, and a red light was 
kindled in his eyes. He laughed wildly. 'Later!' he cried, and his voice 
rose to a scream. 'Later! Yes, when you also have the Keys ofBarad-dyr 
itself, I suppose; and the crowns of seven kings, and the rods of the Five 
Wizards, and have purchased yourself a pair of boots many sizes larger than 
those that you wear now. A modest plan. Hardly one in which my help is 
needed! I have other things to do. Do not be a fool. If you wish to treat 
with me, while you have a chance, go away, and come back when you are 
sober! 

And leave behind these cut-throats and small rag-tag that dangle at your 
tail! Good day!' He turned and left the balcony. 

'Come back, Saruman!' said Gandalf in a commanding voice. To the 
amazement of the others, Saruman turned again, and as if dragged against his 
will, he came slowly back to the iron rail, leaning on it, breathing hard. 

His face was lined and shrunken. His hand clutched his heavy black staff 
like a claw. 

'I did not give you leave to go,' said Gandalf sternly. 'I have not 
finished. You have become a fool, Saruman, and yet pitiable. You might still 
have turned away from folly and evil, and have been of service. But you 
choose to stay and gnaw the ends of your old plots. Stay then! But I warn 
you. you will not easily come out again. Not unless the dark hands of the 
East stretch out to take you. Saruman!' he cried, and his voice grew in 
power and authority. 'Behold, I am not Gandalf the Grey, whom you betrayed. 
I am Gandalf the White, who has returned from death. You have no colour 
now, 

and I cast you from the order and from the Council.' 

He raised his hand, and spoke slowly in a clear cold voice. 'Saruman, 
your staff is broken.' There was a crack, and the staff split asunder in 
Saruman's hand, and the head of it fell down at Gandalf s feet. 'Go!' said 
Gandalf. With a cry Saruman fell back and crawled away. At that moment a 
heavy shining thing came hurtling down from above. It glanced off the iron 
rail, even as Saruman left it, and passing close to Gandalf 's head, it smote 
the stair on which he stood. The rail rang and snapped. The stair cracked 
and splintered in glittering sparks. But the ball was unharmed: it rolled on 
down the steps, a globe of crystal, dark, but glowing with a heart of fire. 

As it bounded away towards a pool Pippin ran after it and picked it up. 




'The murderous rogue!' cried Jomer. But Gandalf was unmoved. No, that 
was not thrown b Saruman, he said; nor even at his bidding, I think. It came 
from a window far above. A parting shot from Master Wormtongue, I fancy, 
but 

ill aimed.' 

'The aim was poor, maybe, because he could not make up his mind which 
he hated more, you or Saruman,' said Aragorn. 

'That may be so,' said Gandalf. 'Small comfort will those two have in 
their companionship: they will gnaw one another with words. But the 
punishment is just. If Wormtongue ever comes out of Orthanc alive, it will 
be more than he deserves. 

'Here, my lad, I'll take that! I did not ask you to handle it,' he 
cried, turning sharply and seeing Pippin coming up the steps, slowly, as if 
he were bearing a great weight. He went down to meet him and hastily took 
the dark globe from the hobbit, wrapping it in the folds of his cloak. 'I 
will take care of this,' he said. 'It is not a thing, I guess, that Saruman 
would have chosen to cast away.' 

'But he may have other things to cast,' said Gimli. 'If that is the end 
of the debate, let us go out of stone's throw, at least!' 

'It is the end,' said Gandalf. 'Let us go.' 

They turned their backs on the doors of Orthanc, and went down. The 
riders hailed the king with joy, and saluted Gandalf. The spell of Saruman 
was broken: they had seen him come at call, and crawl away, dismissed. 

'Well, that is done,' said Gandalf. 'Now I must find Treebeard and tell 
him how things have gone.' 

'He will have guessed, surely?' said Merry. 'Were they likely to end 
any other way?' 

'Not likely,' answered Gandalf, 'though they came to the balance of a 
hair. But I had reasons for trying; some merciful and some less so. First 
Saruman was shown that the power of his voice was waning. He cannot be 
both 

tyrant and counsellor. When the plot is ripe it remains no longer secret. 

Yet he fell into the trap, and tried to deal with his victims piece-meal, 
while others listened. Then I gave him a last choice and a fair one: to 
renounce both Mordor and his private schemes, and make amends by helping 
us 

in our need. He knows our need, none better. Great service he could have 




rendered. But he has chosen to withhold it, and keep the power of Orthanc. 
He will not serve, only command. He lives now in terror of the shadow of 
Mordor, and yet he still dreams of riding the storm. Unhappy fool! He will 
be devoured, if the power of the East stretches out its arms to Isengard. We 
cannot destroy Orthanc from without, but Sauron — who knows what he can 
do?' 

'And what if Sauron does not conquer? What will you do to him?' asked 
Pippin. 

'I? Nothing!' said Gandalf. 'I will do nothing to him. I do not wish 
for mastery. What w ill become of him? I cannot say. I grieve that so much 
that was good now festers in the tower. Still for us things have not gone 
badly. Strange are the turns of fortune! Often does hatred hurt itself! I 
guess that, even if we had entered in, we could have found few treasures in 
Orthanc more precious than the thing which Wormtongue threw down at us.' 

A shrill shriek; suddenly cut off, came from an open window high above. 

'It seems that Saruman thinks so too,' said Gandalf. 'Let us leave 
them!' 

They returned now to the ruins of the gate. Hardly had they passed out 
under the arch, when, from among the shadows of the piled stones where they 
had stood, Treebeard and a dozen other Ents came striding up. Aragorn, Gimli 
and Legolas gazed at them in wonder. 

'Here are three of my companions, Treebeard,' said Gandalf. 'I have 
spoken of them, but you have not yet seen them.' He named them one by one. 

The Old Ent looked at them long and searchingly, and spoke to them in 
turn. Last he turned to Legolas. 'So you have come all the way from 
Mirkwood, my good Elf? A very great forest it used to be!' 

'And still is,' said Legolas. 'But not so great that we who dwell there 
ever tire of seeing new trees. I should dearly love to journey in Fangorn's 
Wood. I scarcely passed beyond the eaves of it, and I did not wish to turn 
back.' 

Treebeard's eyes gleamed with pleasure. 'I hope you may have your wish, 
ere the hills be much older,' he said. 

'I will come, if I have the fortune,' said Legolas. 'I have made a 
bargain with my friend that, if all goes well, we will visit Fangorn 
together — by your leave.' 

'Any Elf that comes with you will be welcome,' said Treebeard. 

'The friend I speak of is not an Elf,' said Legolas; 'I mean Gimli, 




Gluin's son here.' Gimli bowed low, and the axe slipped from his belt and 
clattered on the ground. 

'Hoom, hm! Ah now,' said Treebeard, looking dark-eyed at him. A dwarf 
and an axe-bearer! Hoom! I have good will to Elves; but you ask much. This 
is a strange friendship!' ’Strange it may seem,' said Legolas; 'but while 
Gimli lives I shall not come to Fangorn alone. His axe is not for trees, but 
for ore-necks, O Fangorn, Master of Fangorn's Wood. Forty -two he hewed in 
the battle.' 

'Hoo! Come now!' said Treebeard. 'That is a better story! Well, well, 
things will go as they will; and there is no need to hurry to meet them. But 
now we must part for a while. Day is drawing to an end, yet Gandalf says you 
must go ere nightfall, and the Ford of the Mark is eager for his own house.' 

'Yes, we must go, and go now,' said Gandalf. 'I fear that I must take 
your gatekeepers from you. But you will manage well enough without them.' 

'Maybe I shall,' said Treebeard. 'But I shall miss them. We have become 
friends in so short a while that I think I must be getting hasty — growing 
backwards towards youth, perhaps. But there, they are the first new thing 
under Sun or Moon that I have seen for many a long, long day. I shall not 
forget them. I have put their names into the Fong Fist. Ents will remember 
it. 

Ents the earthborn, old as mountains, 

the wide-walkers, water drinking; 

and hungry as hunters, the Hobbit children, 

the laughing-folk, the little people, 

they shall remain friends as long as leaves are renewed. Fare you well! 

But if you hear news up in your pleasant land, in the Shire, send me word! 
You know what I mean: word or sight of the Entwives. Come yourselves if 
you 
can!' 

'We will!' said Merry and Pippin together, and they turned away 
hastily. Treebeard looked at them, and was silent for a while, shaking his 
head thoughtfully. Then he turned to Gandalf. 

'So Saruman would not leave?' he said. 'I did not think he would. His 
heart is as rotten as a black Huorn's. Still, if I were overcome and all my 
trees destroyed, I would not come while I had one dark hole left to hide 
in.' 

'No,' said Gandalf. 'But you have not plotted to cover all the world 




with your trees and choke all other living things. But there it is, Saruman 
remains to nurse his hatred and weave again such webs as he can. He has the 
Key of Orthanc. But he must not be allowed to escape.' 

'Indeed no! Ents will see to that,' said Treebeard. 'Saruman shall not 
set foot beyond the rock, without my leave. Ents will watch over him.’ 

'Good!' said Gandalf. 'That is what I hoped. Now I can go and turn to 
other matters with one care the less. But you must be wary. The waters have 
gone down. It will not be enough to put sentinels round the tower, I fear. I 
do not doubt that there were deep ways delved under Orthanc, and that 
Saruman hopes to go and come unmarked, before long. If you will undertake 
the labour, I beg you to pour in the waters again; and do so, until Isengard 
remains a standing pool, or you discover the outlets. When all the 
underground places are drowned, and the outlets blocked, then Saruman must 
stay upstairs and look out of the windows.' 

'Leave it to the Ents!’ said Treebeard. 'We shall search the valley 
from head to foot and peer under every pebble. Trees are coming back to live 
here, old trees, wild trees. The Watchwood we will call it. Not a squirrel 
will go here, but I shall know of it. Leave it to Ents ! Until seven times 
the years in which he tormented us have passed, we shall not tire of 
watching him.' 




Chapter 11. The Palantnr 



The sun was sinking behind the long western arm of the mountains when 
Gandalf and his companions, and the king with his Riders, set out again from 
Isengard. Gandalf took Merry behind him, and Aragorn took Pippin. Two of 
the 

king's men went on ahead, riding swiftly, and passed soon out of sight down 
into the valley. The others followed at an easy pace. 

Ents in a solemn row stood like statues at the gate, with their long 
arms uplifted, but they made no sound. Merry and Pippin looked back, when 
they had passed some way down the winding road. Sunlight was still shining 
in the sky, but long shadows reached over Isengard: grey ruins falling into 
darkness. Treebeard stood alone there now, like the distant stump of an old 
tree: the hobbits thought of their first meeting, upon the sunny ledge far 
away on the borders of Fangorn. 

They came to the pillar of the White Hand. The pillar was still 
standing, but the graven hand had been thrown down and broken into small 
pieces. Right in the middle of the road the long forefinger lay, white in 
the dusk, its red nail darkening to black. 

'The Ents pay attention to every detail!' said Gandalf. 

They rode on, and evening deepened in the valley. 

'Are we riding far tonight, Gandalf?' asked Merry after a while. 'I 
don't know how you feel with small rag-tag dangling behind you; but the 
rag-tag is tired and will be glad to stop dangling and lie down.' 

'So you heard that?' said Gandalf. 'Don't let it rankle! Be thankful no 
longer words were aimed at you. He had his eyes on you. If it is any comfort 
to your pride, I should say that, at the moment, you and Pippin are more in 
his thoughts than all the rest of us. Who you are; how you came there, and 
why; what you know; whether you were captured, and if so, how you escaped 
when all the Ores perished — it is with those little riddles that the great 
mind ^ Saruman is troubled. A sneer from him, Meriadoc, is a compliment, if 
you feel honoured by his concern.' 

'Thank you!' said Merry. 'But it is a greater honour to dangle at your 
tail, Gandalf. For one thing, in that position one has a chance of putting a 




question a second time. Are we riding far tonight?' 

Gandalf laughed. 'A most unquenchable hobbit! All Wizards should have a 
hobbit or two in their care — to teach them the meaning of the word, and to 
correct them. I beg your pardon. But I have given thought even to these 
simple matters. We will ride for a few hours, gently, until we come to the 
end of the valley. Tomorrow we must ride faster. 

’When we came, we meant to go straight from Isengard back to the king's 
house at Edoras over the plains, a ride of some days. But we have taken 
thought and changed the plan. Messengers have gone ahead to Helm's Deep, to 
warn them that the king is returning tomorrow. He will ride from there with 
many men to Dunharrow by paths among the hills. From now on no more than 
two 

or three together are to go openly over the land, by day or night, when it 
can be avoided.' 

'Nothing or a double helping is your way!' said Merry. 'I am afraid I 
was not looking beyond tonight's bed. Where and what are Helm's Deep and all 
the rest of it? I don't know anything about this country.' 

'Then you'd best learn something, if you wish to understand what is 
happening. But not just now, and not from me: I have too many pressing 
things to think about.' 

'All right, I'll tackle Strider by the camp-fire: he's less testy. But 
why all this secrecy? I thought we'd won the battle!' 

Yes, we have won, but only the first victor and that in itself 
increases our danger. There was some link between Isengard and Mordor, 
which 

I have not yet fathomed. How they exchanged news I am not sure; but they did 
so. The Eye of Barad-dyr will be looking impatiently towards the Wizard's 
Vale, I think; and towards Rohan. The less it sees the better.' 

The road passed slowly, winding down the valley. Now further, and now 
nearer Isen flowed in its stony bed. Night came down from the mountains. All 
the mists were gone. A chill wind blew. The moon, now waxing round, filled 
the eastern sky with a pale cold sheen. The shoulders of the mountain to 
their right sloped down to bare hills. The wide plains opened grey before 
them. 

At last they halted. Then they turned aside, leaving the highway and 
taking to the sweet upland turf again. Going westward a mile or so they came 
to a dale. It opened southward, leaning back into the slope of round Dol 




Baran, the last hill of the northern ranges, greenfooted, crowned with 
heather. The sides of the glen were shaggy with last year's bracken, among 
which the tight-curled fronds of spring were just thrusting through the 
sweet-scented earth. Thornbushes grew thick upon the low banks, and under 
them they made their camp, two hours or so before the middle of the night. 
They lit a fire in a hollow, down among the roots of a spreading hawthorn, 
tall as a tree, writhen with age; but hale in every limb. Buds were swelling 
at each twig's tip. 

Guards were set, two at a watch. The rest, after they had supped, 
wrapped themselves in a cloak and blanket and slept. The hobbits lay in a 
corner by themselves upon a pile of old bracken. Merry was sleepy, but 
Pippin now seemed curiously restless. The bracken cracked and rustled, as he 
twisted and turned. 

'What’s the matter?' asked Merry. 'Are you lying on an ant-hill?' 

'No,' said Pippin, 'but I'm not comfortable. I wonder how long it is 
since I slept in a bed?' 

Merry yawned. 'Work it out on your fingers!' he said. 'But you must 
know how long it is since we left Lurien.' 

'Oh, that!' said Pippin. 'I mean a real bed in a bedroom.' 

'Well, Rivendell then,' said Merry. 'But I could sleep anywhere 
tonight.' 

'You had the luck, Merry,' said Pippin softly, after a long pause. 'You 
were riding with Gandalf.' 

'Well, what of it?' 

'Did you get any news, any information out of him?' 

'Yes, a good deal. More than usual. But you heard it all or most of it: 
you were close by, and we were talking no secrets. But you can go with him 
tomorrow, if you think you can get more out of him-and if he'll have you.' 

'Can I? Good! But he's close, isn't he? Not changed at all.' 

'Oh yes, he is!' said Merry, waking up a little, and beginning to 
wonder what was bothering his companion. 'He has grown, or something. He 
can 

be both kinder and more alarming, merrier and more solemn than before, I 
think. He has changed; but we have not had a chance to see how much, yet. 
But think of the last part of that business with Saruman! Remember Saruman 
was once Gandalf s superior: head of the Council, whatever that may be 




exactly. He was Saruman the White. Gandalf is the White now. Saruman 
came 

when he was told, and his rod was taken; and then he was just told to go, 
and he went!' 

'Well, if Gandalf has changed at all, then he's closer than ever that's 
all,' Pippin argued. 'That-glass ball, now. He seemed mighty pleased with 
it. He knows or guesses something about it. But does he tell us what? No, 
not a word. Yet I picked it up, and I saved it from rolling into a pool. 

Here, I'll take that, my lad — that's all. I wonder what it is? It felt so 
very heavy.' Pippin's voice fell very low as if he was talking to himself. 

'Hullo!' said Merry. 'So that's what is bothering you? Now, Pippin my 
lad, don't forget Gildor's saying — the one Sam used to quote: Do not 
meddle in the at Fairs of Wizards, for they are subtle and quick to anger.' 

'But our whole life for months has been one long meddling in the 
affairs of Wizards,' said Pippin. 'I should like a bit of information as 
well as danger. I should like a look at that ball.' 

'Go to sleep!' said Merry. 'You'll get information enough, sooner or 
later. My dear Pippin, no Took ever beat a Brandybuck for inquisitiveness; 
but is this the time, I ask you?' 

'All right! What's the harm in my telling you what I should like: a 
look at that stone? I know I can't have it, with old Gandalf sitting on it, 
like a hen on an egg. But it doesn't help much to get no more from you than 
a you-can 't-have-it so -go -to -sleep ! ' 

'Well, what else could I say?' said Merry. 'I'm sorry, Pippin, but you 
really must wait till the morning. I'll be as curious as you like after 
breakfast, and I'll help in any way I can at wizard-wheedling. But I can't 
keep awake any longer. If I yawn any more, I shall split at the ears. Good 
night!' 

Pippin said no more. He lay still now, but sleep remained far away; and 
it was not encouraged by the sound of Merry breathing softly, asleep in a 
few minutes after saying good night. 'The thought of the dark globe seemed 
to grow stronger as all grew quiet. Pippin felt again its weight in his 
hands, and saw again the mysterious red depths into which he had looked for 
a moment. He tossed and turned and tried to think of something else. 

At last he could stand it no longer. He got up and looked round. It was 
chilly, and he wrapped his cloak about him. The moon was shining cold and 
white, down into the dell, and the shadows of the bushes were black. All 




about lay sleeping shapes. The two guards were not in view: they were up on 
the hill, perhaps, or hidden in the bracken. Driven by some impulse that he 
did not understand, Pippin walked softly to where Gandalf lay. He looked 
down at him. The wizard seemed asleep, but with lids not fully closed: there 
was a glitter of eyes under his long lashes. Pippin stepped back hastily. 

But Gandalf made no sign; and drawn forward once more, half against his 
will, the hobbit crept up again from behind the wizard's head. He was rolled 
in a blanket, with his cloak spread over the top; and close beside him, 
between his right side and his bent arm, there was a hummock, something 
round wrapped in a dark cloth; his hand seemed only just to have slipped off 
it to the ground. 

Hardly breathing, Pippin crept nearer, foot by foot. At last he knelt 
down. Then he put his hands out stealthily, and slowly lifted the lump up: 
it did not seem quite so heavy as he had expected. 'Only some bundle of 
oddments, perhaps, after all,' he thought with a strange sense of relief; 
but he did not put the bundle down again. He stood for a moment clasping it. 
Then an idea came into his mind. He tiptoed away, found a large stone, and 
came back. 

Quickly now he drew off the cloth, wrapped the stone in it and kneeling 
down, laid it back by the wizard's hand. Then at last he looked at the thing 
that he had uncovered. There it was: a smooth globe of crystal, now dark and 
dead, lying bare before his knees. Pippin lifted it, covered it hurriedly in 
his own cloak, and half turned to go back to his bed. At that moment Gandalf 
moved in his sleep, and muttered some words: they seemed to be in a strange 
tongue; his hand groped out and clasped the wrapped stone, then he sighed 
and did not move again. 

'You idiotic fool!' Pippin muttered to himself. 'You're going to get 
yourself into frightful trouble. Put it back quick!' But he found now that 
his knees quaked, and he did not dare to go near enough to the wizard to 
reach the bundle. 'I'll never get it back now without waking him,' he 
thought, 'not till I'm a bit calmer. S0I may as well have a look first. Not 
just here though!' He stole away, and sat down on a green hillock not far 
from his bed. The moon looked in over the edge of the dell. 

Pippin sat with his knees drawn up and the ball between them. He bent 
low over it, looking like a greedy child stooping over a bowl of food, in a 
corner away from others. He drew his cloak aside and gazed at it. The air 
seemed still and tense about him. At first the globe was dark, black as jet, 




with the moonlight gleaming on its surface. Then there came a faint glow and 
stir in the heart of it, and it held his eyes, so that now he could not look 
away. Soon all the inside seemed on fire; the ball was spinning, or the 
lights within were revolving. Suddenly the lights went out. He gave a gasp 
and struggled; but he remained bent, clasping the ball with both hands. 
Closer and closer he bent, and then became rigid; his lips moved soundlessly 
for a while. Then with a strangled cry he fell back and lay still. 

The cry was piercing. The guards leapt down from the banks. All the 
camp was soon astir. 

’So this is the thief!' said Gandalf. Hastily he cast his cloak over 
the globe where it lay. ’But you, Pippin! This is a grievous turn to 
things!’ He knelt by Pippin's body: the hobbit was lying on his back rigid, 
with unseeing eyes staring up at the sky. 'The devilry! What mischief has he 
done-to himself, and to all of us?' The wizard's face was drawn and haggard. 

He took Pippin's hand and bent over his face, listening for his breath; 
then he laid his hands on his brow. The hobbit shuddered. His eyes closed. 
He cried out; and sat up. staring in bewilderment at all the faces round 
him, pale in the moonlight. 

'It is not for you, Saruman!' he cried in a shrill and toneless voice 
shrinking away from Gandalf. 'I will send for it at once. Do you understand? 
Say just that!' Then he struggled to get up and escape but Gandalf held him 
gently and firmly. 

'Peregrin Took!' he said. 'Come back!' 

The hobbit relaxed and fell back, clinging to the wizard's hand. 
'Gandalf!' he cried. 'Gandalf! Forgive me!' 

'Forgive you?' said the wizard. 'Tell me first what you have done!' 

'I, I took the ball and looked at it,' stammered Pippin; 'and I saw 
things that frightened me. And I wanted to go away, but I couldn't. And then 
he came and questioned me; and he looked at me, and, and that is all I 
remember.' 

'That won't do,' said Gandalf sternly. 'What did you see, and what did 
you say?' 

Pippin shut his eyes and shivered, but said nothing. They all stared at 
him in silence, except Merry who turned away. But Gandalf s face was still 
hard. 'Speak!' he said. 

In a low hesitating voice Pippin began again, and slowly his words grew 
clearer and stronger. 'I saw a dark sky, and tall battlements,' he said. 




'And tiny stars. It seemed very far away and long ago, yet hard and clear. 
Then the stars went in and out-they were cut off by things with wings. Very 
big, I think, really; but in the glass they looked like bats wheeling round 
the tower. I thought there were nine of them. One began to fly straight 
towards me, getting bigger and bigger. It had a horrible — no, no! I can't 
say. 

'I tried to get away, because I thought it would fly out; but when it 
had covered all the globe, it disappeared. Then he came. He did not speak so 
that I could hear words. He just looked, and I understood. 

"'So you have come back? Why have you neglected to report for so long?" 

'I did not answer. He said: "Who are you?" I still did not answer, but 
it hurt me horribly; and he pressed me, so I said: "A hobbit." 

'Then suddenly he seemed to see me, and he laughed at me. It was cruel. 

It was like being stabbed with knives. I struggled. But he said: "Wait a 
moment! We shall meet again soon. Tell Saruman that this dainty is not for 
him. I will send for it at once. Do you understand? Say just that!" 

'Then he gloated over me. I felt I was falling to pieces. No, no! I 
can't say any more. I don't remember anything else.' 

'Look at me!' said Gandalf. 

Pippin looked up straight into his eyes. The wizard held his gaze for a 
moment in silence. Then his face grew gentler, and the shadow of a smile 
appeared. He laid his hand softly on Pippin's head. 

'All right!' he said. 'Say no more! You have taken no harm. There is no 
lie in your eyes, as I feared. But he did not speak long with you. A fool, 
but an honest fool, you remain, Peregrin Took. Wiser ones might have done 
worse in such a pass. But mark this! You have been saved, and all your 
friends too, mainly by good fortune, as it is called. You cannot count on it 
a second time. If he had questioned you, then and there, almost certainly 
you would have told all that you know, to the ruin of us all. But he was too 
eager. He did not want information only: he wanted you, quickly, so that he 
could deal with you in the Dark Tower, slowly. Don't shudder! If you will 
meddle in the affairs of Wizards, you must be prepared to think of such 
things. But come! I forgive you. Be comforted! Things have not turned out as 
evilly as they might.' 

He lifted Pippin gently and carried him back to his bed. Merry 
followed, and sat down beside him. Lie there and rest, if you can, Pippin!' 
said Gandalf. 'Trust me. If you feel an itch in your palms again, tell me of 




it! Such things can be cured. But anyway, my dear hobbit, don't put a lump 
of rock under my elbow again! Now, I will leave you two together for a 
while.' 

With that Gandalf returned to the others, who were still standing by 
the Orthanc-stone in troubled thought. 'Peril comes in the night when least 
expected,' he said. 'We have had a narrow escape!' 

'How is the hobbit, Pippin?' asked Aragorn. 

'I think all will be well now,' answered Gandalf. 'He was not held 
long, and hobbits have an amazing power of recovery. The memory, or the 
horror of it, will probably fade quickly. Too quickly, perhaps. Will you, 
Aragorn, take the Orthanc-stone and guard it? It is a dangerous charge.' 

'Dangerous indeed, but not to all,' said Aragorn. 'There is one who may 
claim it by right. For this assuredly is the palantnr of Orthanc from the 
treasury of Elendil, set here by the Kings of Gondor. Now my hour draws 
near. I will take it.' 

Gandalf looked at Aragorn, and then, to the surprise of the others, he 
lifted the covered Stone, and bowed as he presented it. 

'Receive it, lord!' he said: 'in earnest of other things that shall be 
given back. But if I may counsel you in the use of your own, do not use it 
— yet! Be wary!' 

'When have I been hasty or unwary, who have waited and prepared for so 
many long years?' said Aragorn. 

'Never yet. Do not then stumble at the end of the road,' answered 
Gandalf. 'But at the least keep this thing secret. You, and all others that 
stand here ! The hobbit, Peregrin, above all should not know where it is 
bestowed. The evil fit may come on him again. For alas ! he has handled it 
and looked in it, as should never have happened. He ought never to have 
touched it in Isengard, and there I should have been quicker. But my mind 
was bent on Saruman, and I did not at once guess the nature of the Stone. 
Then I was weary, and as I lay pondering it, sleep overcame me. Now I know!' 

'Yes, there can be no doubt,' said Aragorn. 'At last we know the link' 
between Isengard and Mordor, and how it worked. Much is explained.' 'Strange 
powers have our enemies, and strange weaknesses!' said Thjoden. 'But it has 
long been said: oft evil will shall evil mar.' 

'That many times is seen,' said Gandalf. 'But at this time we have been 
strangely fortunate. Maybe, I have been saved by this hobbit from a grave 
blunder. I had considered whether or not to probe this Stone myself to find 




its uses. Had I done so, I should have been revealed to him myself. I am not 
ready for such a trial, if indeed I shall ever be so: But even if I found 
the power to withdraw myself, it would be disastrous for him to see me, yet 
— until the hour comes when secrecy will avail no longer.' 

'That hour is now come, I think,' said Aragorn. 

'Not yet,' said Gandalf. 'There remains a short while of doubt which we 
must use. The Enemy, it is clear, thought that the Stone was in Orthanc — 
why should he not? And that therefore the hobbit was captive there, driven 
to look in the glass for his torment by Saruman. That dark mind will be 
filled now with the voice and face of the hobbit and with expectation: it 
may take some time before he learns his error. We must snatch that time. We 
have been too leisurely. We must move. The neighbourhood of Isengard is no 
place now to linger in. I will ride ahead at once with Peregrin Took. It 
will be better for him than lying in the dark while others sleep.' 

'I will keep Jomer and ten Riders,' said the king. 'They shall ride 
with me at early day. The rest may go with Aragorn and ride as soon as they 
have a mind.' 

'As you will,' said Gandalf. 'But make all the speed you may to the 
cover of the hills, to Helm's Deep!' 

At that moment a shadow fell over them. The bright moonlight seemed to 
be suddenly cut off. Several of the Riders cried out, and crouched, holding 
their arms above their heads, as if to ward off a blow from above: a blind 
fear and a deadly cold fell on them. Cowering they looked up. A vast winged 
shape passed over the moon like a black cloud. It wheeled and went north, 
flying at a speed greater than any wind of Middle -earth. The stars fainted 
before it. It was gone. 

They stood up, rigid as stones. Gandalf was gazing up, his arms out and 
downwards, stiff, his hands clenched. 

'Nazgyl!' he cried. 'The messenger of Mordor. The storm is coming. The 
Nazgyl have crossed the River! Ride, ride! Wait not for the dawn! Let not 
the swift wait for the slow! Ride!' 

He sprang away, calling Shadowfax as he ran. Aragorn followed him. 
Going to Pippin, Gandalf picked him up in his arms. 'You shall come with me 
this time,' he said. 'Shadowfax shall show you his paces.' Then he ran to 
the place where he had slept. Shadowfax stood there already. Slinging the 
small bag which was all his luggage across his shoulders, the wizard leapt 
upon the horse's back. Aragorn lifted Pippin and set him in Gandalf s arms, 




, wrapped in cloak and blanket. 

’Farewell! Follow fast!' cried Gandalf. 'Away, Shadowfax!' 

The great horse tossed his head. His flowing tail flicked in the 
moonlight. Then he leapt forward, spurning the earth, and was gone like the 
north wind from the mountains. 

'A beautiful, restful night!' said Merry to Aragorn. 'Some folk have 
wonderful luck. He did not want to sleep, and he wanted to ride with Gandalf 
— and there he goes ! Instead of being turned into a stone himself to stand 
here for ever as a warning.' 

'If you had been the first to lift the Orthanc-stone, and not he, how 
would it be now?' said Aragorn. 'You might have done worse. Who can say? 
But 

now it is your luck to come with me, I fear. At once. Go and get ready, and 
bring anything that Pippin left behind. Make haste!' 

Over the plains Shadowfax was flying, needing no urging and no 
guidance. Less than an hour had passed, and they had reached the Fords of 
Isen and crossed them. The Mound of the Riders and its cold spears lay grey 
behind them. 

Pippin was recovering. He was warm, but the wind in his face was keen 
and refreshing. He was with Gandalf. The horror of the stone and of the 
hideous shadow over the moon was fading, things left behind in the mists of 
the mountains or in a passing dream. He drew a deep breath. 

'I did not know you rode bare-back, Gandalf,' he said. 'You haven't a 
saddle or a bridle!' 

'I do not ride elf-fashion, except on Shadowfax,' said Gandalf. 'But 
Shadowfax will have no harness. You do not ride Shadowfax: he is willing to 
carry you-or not. If he is willing, that is enough. It is then his business 
to see that you remain on his back, unless you jump off into the air.' 

'How fast is he going?' asked Pippin. 'Fast by the wind, but very 
smooth. And how light his footfalls are!' 

'He is running now as fast as the swiftest horse could gallop,' 
answered Gandalf; 'but that is not fast for him. The land is rising a little 
here, and is more broken than it was beyond the river. But see how the White 
Mountains are drawing near under the stars! Yonder are the Thrihyrne peaks 
like black spears. It will not be long before we reach the branching roads 
and come to the Deeping-coomb, where the battle was fought two nights ago.' 

Pippin was silent again for a while. He heard Gandalf singing softly to 




himself, murmuring brief snatches of rhyme in many tongues, as the miles ran 
under them. At last the wizard passed into a song of which the hobbit caught 
the words: a few lines came clear to his ears through the rushing of the 
wind: 

Tall ships and tall kings 

Three times three, 

What brought they from the foundered land 

Over the flowing sea? 

Seven stars and seven stones 

And one white tree. 

’What are you saying, Gandalf?' asked Pippin. 

'I was just running over some of the Rhymes of Lore in my mind ' 
answered the wizard. 'Hobbits, I suppose, have forgotten them, even those 
that they ever knew.' 

'No, not all,' said Pippin. 'And we have many of our own, which 
wouldn't interest you, perhaps. But I have never heard this one. What is it 
about — the seven stars and seven stones?' 

'About the palantnri of the Kings of Old,' said Gandalf. 

'And what are they?' 

'The name meant that which looks far away. The Orthanc-stone was one.' 

'Then it was not made, not made' — Pippin hesitated — 'by the Enemy?' 

'No,' said Gandalf. 'Nor by Saruman. It is beyond his art, and beyond 
Sauron's too. The palantnri came from beyond Westernesse from Eldamar. 

The 

Noldor made them. Flanor himself, maybe, wrought them, in days so long ago 
that the time cannot be measured in years. But there is nothing that Sauron 
cannot turn to evil uses. Alas for Saruman! It was his downfall, as I now 
perceive. Perilous to us all are the devices of an art deeper than we 
possess ourselves. Yet he must bear the blame. Fool! to keep it secret, for 
his own profit. No word did he ever speak of it to any of the Council. We 
had not yet given thought to the fate of the palantnri of Gondor in its 
ruinous wars. By Men they were almost forgotten. Even in Gondor they were a 
secret known only to a few; in Arnor they were remembered only in a rhyme of 
lore among the D®nedain.' 

'What did the Men of old use them for?' asked Pippin, delighted and 
astonished at getting answers to so many questions, and wondering how long 
it would last. 




To see far off, and to converse in thought with one another,' said 
Gandalf. 'In that way they long guarded and united the realm of Gondor. They 
set up Stones at Minas Anor, and at Minas Ithil, and at Orthanc in the ring 
of Isengard. The chief and master of these was under the Dome of Stars at 
Osgiliath before its ruin. The three others were far away in the North. In 
the house of Elrond it is told that they were at Ann®minas, and Amon Syl, 
and Elendil's Stone was on the Tower Hills that look towards Mithlond in the 
Gulf of Lune where the grey ships lie. 

'Each palantnr replied to each, but all those in Gondor were ever open 
to the view of Osgiliath. Now it appears that, as the rock of Orthanc has 
withstood the storms of time, so there the palantnr of that tower has 
remained. But alone it could do nothing but see small images of things far 
off and days remote. Very useful, no doubt, that was to Saruman; yet it 
seems that he was not content. Further and further abroad he gazed, until he 
cast his gaze upon Barad-dyr. Then he was caught! 

'Who knows where the lost Stones of Arnor and Gondor now lie buried, or 
drowned deep? But one. at least Sauron must have obtained and mastered to 
his purposes. I guess that it was the Ithil-stone, for he took Minas Ithil 
long ago and turned it into an evil place: Minas Morgul, it has become. 

'Easy it is now to guess how quickly the roving eye of Saruman was 
trapped and held; and how ever since he has been persuaded from afar, and 
daunted when persuasion would not serve. The biter bit, the hawk under the 
eagle's foot, the spider in a steel web! How long, I wonder, has he been 
constrained to come often to his glass for inspection and instruction, and 
the Orthanc -stone so bent towards Barad-dyr that, if any save a will of 
adamant now looks into it, it will bear his mind and sight swiftly thither? 

And how it draws one to itself! Have I not felt it? Even now my heart 
desires to test my will upon it, to see if I could not wrench it from him 
and turn it where I would-to look across the wide seas of water and of time 
to Tirion the Fair, and perceive the unimaginable hand and mind of Flanor at 
their work, while both the White Tree and the Golden were in flower!' He 
sighed and fell silent. 

'I wish I had known all this before,' said Pippin. 'I had no notion of 
what I was doing.' 

'Oh yes, you had,' said Gandalf. 'You knew you were behaving wrongly 
and foolishly; and you told yourself so, though you did not listen. I did 
not tell you all this before, because it is only by musing on all that has 




happened that I have at last understood, even as we ride together. But if I 
had spoken sooner, it would not have lessened your desire, or made it easier 
to resist. On the contrary! No, the burned hand teaches best. After that 
advice about fire goes to the heart.' 

'It does,' said Pippin. 'If all the seven stones were laid out before 
me now, I should shut my eyes and put my hands in my pockets.' 

'Good!' said Gandalf. 'That is what I hoped.' 

'But I should like to know—' Pippin began. 

'Mercy!' cried Gandalf. 'If the giving of information is to be the cure 
of your inquisitiveness, I shall spend all the rest of my days in answering 
you. What more do you want to know?' 

'The names of all the stars, and of all living things, and the whole 
history of Middle-earth and Over -heaven and of the Sundering Seas ' laughed 
Pippin. 'Of course! What less? But I am notin a hurry tonight. At the 
moment I was just wondering about the black shadow. I heard you shout 
"messenger of Mordor". What was it? What could it do at Isengard?' 

'It was a Black Rider on wings, a Nazgyl,' said Gandalf. 'It could have 
taken you away to the Dark Tower.' 

'But it was not coming for me, was it?' faltered Pippin. 'I mean, it 
didn't know that I had... ' 

'Of course not,' said Gandalf. 'It is two hundred leagues or more in 
straight flight from Barad-dyr to Orthanc, and even a Nazgyl would take a 
few hours to fly between them. But Saruman certainly looked in the Stone 
since the ore-raid, and more of his secret thought, I do not doubt, has been 
read than he intended. A messenger has been sent to find out what he is 
doing. And after what has happened tonight another will come, I think, and 
swiftly. So Saruman will come to the last pinch of the vice that he has put 
his hand in. He has no captive to send. He has no Stone to see with, and 
cannot answer the summons. Sauron will only believe that he is withholding 
the captive and refusing to use the Stone. It will not help Saruman to tell 
the truth to the messenger. For Isengard may be ruined, yet he is still safe 
in Orthanc. So whether he will or no, he will appear a rebel. Yet he 
rejected us, so as to avoid that very thing! What he will do in such a 
plight, I cannot guess. He has power still, I think, while in Orthanc, to 
resist the Nine Riders. He may try to do so. He may try to trap the Nazgyl, 
or at least to slay the thing on which it now rides the air. In that case 
let Rohan look to its horses ! 




'But I cannot tell how it will fall out, well or ill for us. It may be 
that the counsels of the Enemy will be confused, or hindered by his wrath 
with Saruman. It may be that he will learn that I was there and stood upon 
the stairs of Orthanc-with hobbits at my tail. Or that an heir of Elendil 
lives and stood beside me. If Wormtongue was not deceived by the armour of 
Rohan, he would remember Aragorn and the title that he claimed. That is what 
I fear. And so we fly — not from danger but into greater danger. Every 
stride of Shadowfax bears you nearer to the Land of Shadow, Peregrin Took.' 

Pippin made no answer, but clutched his cloak, as if a sudden chill had 
struck him. Grey land passed under them. 

'See now!' said Gandalf. 'The Westfold dales are opening before us. 

Here we come back to the eastward road. The dark shadow yonder is the 
mouth 

of the Deeping-coomb. That way lies Aglarond and the Glittering Caves. Do 
not ask me about them. Ask Gimli, if you meet again, and for the first time 
you may get an answer longer than you wish. You will not see the caves 
yourself, not on this journey. Soon they will be far behind.' 

'I thought you were going to stop at Helm's Deep!' said Pippin. 'Where 
are you going then?' 

'To Minas Tirith, before the seas of war surround it.' 

'Oh! And how far is that?' 

'Leagues upon leagues,' answered Gandalf. 'Thrice as far as the 
dwellings of King Thjoden, and they are more than a hundred miles east from 
here, as the messengers of Mordor fly. Shadowfax must run a longer road. 
Which will prove the swifter? 

'We shall ride now till daybreak, and that is some hours away. Then 
even Shadowfax must rest, in some hollow of the hills: at Edoras, I hope. 
Sleep, if you can! You may see the first glimmer of dawn upon the golden 
roof of the house of Eorl. And in two days thence you shall see the purple 
shadow of Mount Mindolluin and the walls of the tower of Denethor white in 
the morning. 

'Away now, Shadowfax! Run, greatheart, run as you have never run 
before! Now we are come to the lands where you were foaled and every stone 
you know. Run now! Hope is in speed!' 

Shadowfax tossed his head and cried aloud, as if a trumpet had summoned 
him to battle. Then he sprang forward. Fire flew from his feet; night rushed 
over him. 




As he fell slowly into sleep, Pippin had a strange feeling: he and 
Gandalf were still as stone, seated upon the statue of a running horse, 
while the world rolled away beneath his feet with a great noise of wind. 




* BOOK IV * 



Chapter 1. The Taming of Smjagol 



'Well, master, we’re in a fix and no mistake,' said Sam Gamgee. He 
stood despondently with hunched shoulders beside Frodo, and peered out with 
puckered eyes into the gloom. 

It was the third evening since they had fled from the Company, as far 
as they could tell: they had almost lost count of the hours during which 
they had climbed and laboured among the barren slopes and stones of the 
Emyn 

Muil, sometimes retracing their steps because they could find no way 
forward, sometimes discovering that they had wandered in a circle back to 
where they had been hours before. Yet on the whole they had worked steadily 
eastward, keeping as near as they could find a way to the outer edge of this 
strange twisted knot of hills. But always they found its outward faces 
sheer, high and impassable, frowning over the plain below; beyond its 
tumbled skirts lay livid festering marshes where nothing moved and not even 
a bird was to be seen. 

The hobbits stood now on the brink of a tall cliff, bare and bleak, its 
feet wrapped in mist; and behind them rose the broken highlands crowned with 
drifting cloud. A chill wind' blew from the East. Night was gathering over 
the shapeless lands before them; the sickly green of them was fading to a 
sullen brown. Far away to the right the Anduin, that had gleamed fitfully in 
sun-breaks during the day, was now hidden in shadow. But their eyes did not 
look beyond the River, back to Gondor, to their friends, to the lands of 
Men. South and east they stared to where, at the edge of the oncoming night, 
a dark line hung, like distant mountains of motionless smoke. Every now and 
again a tiny red gleam far away flickered upwards on the rim of earth and 
sky. 

'What a fix! ' said Sam. 'That's the one place in all the lands we've 
ever heard of that we don't want to see any closer; and that's the one place 
we're trying to get to! And that's just where we can't get, nohow. We've 
come the wrong way altogether, seemingly. We can't get down; and if we did 




get down, we’d find all that green land a nasty bog, I'll warrant. Phew! Can 
you smell it?' He sniffed at the wind. 

’Yes, I can smell it,' said Frodo, but he did not move, and his eyes 
remained fixed, staring out towards the dark line and the flickering flame. 
'Mordor! ' he muttered under his breath. 'If I must go there I wish I could 
come there quickly and make an end! ' He shuddered. The wind was chilly and 
yet heavy with an odour of cold decay. 'Well,' he said, at last withdrawing 
his eyes, 'we cannot stay here all night, fix or no fix. We must find a more 
sheltered spot, and camp once more; and perhaps another day will show us a 
path.’ 

'Or another and another and another,' muttered Sam. 'Or maybe no day. 
We've come the wrong way.' 

'I wonder,' said Frodo. 'It's my doom, I think, to go to that Shadow 
yonder, so that a way will be found. But will good or evil show it to me? 

What hope we had was in speed. Delay plays into the Enemy's hands-and here I 
am: delayed. Is it the will of the Dark Tower that steers us? All my choices 
have proved ill. I should have left the Company long before, and come down 
from the North, east of the River and of the Emyn Muil, and so over the hard 
of Battle Plain to the passes of Mordor. But now it isn't possible for you 
and me alone to find a way back, and the Ores are prowling on the east bank. 
Every day that passes is a precious day lost. I am tired, Sam. I don't know 
what is to be done. What food have we got left?' 

'Only those, what d'you call 'em, lembas, Mr. Frodo. A fair supply. But 
they are better than naught, by a long bite. I never thought, though, when I 
first set tooth in them, that I should ever come to wish for a change. But I 
do now: a bit of plain bread, and a mug — aye, half a mug — of beer would 
go down proper. I've lugged my cooking-gear all the way from the last camp, 
and what use has it been? Naught to make a fire with, for a start; and 
naught to cook, not even grass!' 

They turned away and went down into a stony hollow. The westering sun 
was caught into clouds, and night came swiftly. They slept as well as they 
could for the cold, turn and turn about, in a nook among great jagged 
pinnacles of weathered rock; at least they were sheltered from the easterly 
wind. 

'Did you see them again, Mr. Frodo?’ asked Sam, as they sat, stiff and 
chilled, munching wafers of lembas , in the cold grey of early morning. 

'No,' said Frodo. 'I've heard nothing, and seen nothing, for two nights 




now.' 

'Nor me,' said Sam. 'Grrr! Those eyes did give me a turn! But perhaps 
we've shaken him off at last, the miserable slinker. Gollum! I'll give him 
gollum in his throat, if ever I get my hands on his neck.' 

'I hope you'll never need to,' said Frodo. 'I don't know how he 
followed us; but it may be that he's lost us again, as you say. In this dry 
bleak land we can't leave many footprints, nor much scent, even for his 
snuffling nose.' 

'I hope that's the way of it,' said Sam. 'I wish we could be rid of him 
for good!' 

'So do I,' said Frodo; 'but he's not my chief trouble. I wish we could 
get away from these hills ! I hate them. I feel all naked on the east side, 
stuck up here with nothing but the dead flats between me and that Shadow 
yonder. There's an Eye in it. Come on! We've got to get down today somehow.' 

But that day wore on, and when afternoon faded towards evening they 
were still scrambling along the ridge and had found no way of escape. 

Sometimes in the silence of that barren country they fancied that they 
heard faint sounds behind them, a stone falling, or the imagined step of 
flapping feet on the rock. But if they halted and stood still listening, 
they heard no more, nothing but the wind sighing over the edges of the 
stones — yet even that reminded them of breath softly hissing through sharp 
teeth. 

All that day the outer ridge of the Emyn Muil had been bending 
gradually northward, as they struggled on. Along its brink there now 
stretched a wide tumbled flat of scored and weathered rock, cut every now 
and again by trench-like gullies that sloped steeply down to deep notches in 
the cliff-face. To find a path in these clefts, which were becoming deeper 
and more frequent, Frodo and Sam were driven to their left, well away from 
the edge, and they did not notice that for several miles they had been going 
slowly but steadily downhill: the cliff-top was sinking towards the level of 
the lowlands. 

At last they were brought to a halt. The ridge took a sharper bend 
northward and was gashed by a deeper ravine. On the further side it reared 
up again, many fathoms at a single leap: a great grey cliff loomed before 
them, cut sheer down as if by a knife stroke. They could go no further 
forwards, and must turn now either west or east. But west would lead them 
only into more labour and delay, back towards the heart of the hills; east 




would take them to the outer precipice. 

'There's nothing for it but to scramble down this gully, Sam,' said 
Frodo. 'Let's see what it leads to!' 

'A nasty drop, I'll bet,' said Sam. 

The cleft was longer and deeper than it seemed. Some way down they 
found a few gnarled and stunted trees, the first they had seen for days: 
twisted birch for the most part, with here and there a fir-tree. Many were 
dead and gaunt, bitten to the core by the eastern winds. Once in milder days 
there must have been a fair thicket in the ravine, but now, after some fifty 
yards, the trees came to an end, though old broken stumps straggled on 
almost to the cliffs brink. The bottom of the gully, which lay along the 
edge of a rock-fault, was rough with broken stone and slanted steeply down. 
When they came at last to the end of it, Frodo stooped and leaned out. 

'Look!' he said. 'We must have come down a long way, or else the cliff 
has sunk. It's much lower here than it was, and it looks easier too.' 

Sam knelt beside him and peered reluctantly over the edge. Then he 
glanced up at the great cliff rising up, away on their left. 'Easier! ’ he 
grunted. 'Well, I suppose it's always easier getting down than up. Those as 
can't fly can jump!' 

'It would be a big jump still,’ said Frodo. 'About, well' — he stood 
for a moment measuring it with his eyes — 'about eighteen fathoms I should 
guess. Not more.’ 

'And that's enough! ' said Sam. 'Ugh! How I do hate looking down from a 
height! But looking's better than climbing.' 

'All the same,' said Frodo, 'I think we could climb here; and I think 
we shall have to try. See — the rock is quite different from what it was a 
few miles back. It has slipped and cracked.' 

The outer fall was indeed no longer sheer, but sloped outwards a 
little. It looked like a great rampart or sea-wall whose foundations had 
shifted, so that its courses were all twisted and disordered, leaving great 
fissures and long slanting edges that were in places almost as wide as 
stairs. 

'And if we're going to try and get down, we had better try at once. 

It's getting dark early. I think there's a storm coming.' 

The smoky blur of the mountains in the East was lost in a deeper 
blackness that was already reaching out westwards with long arms. There was 
a distant mutter of thunder borne on the rising breeze. Frodo sniffed the 




air and looked up doubtfully at the sky. He strapped his belt outside his 
cloak and tightened it, and settled his light pack on his back; then he 
stepped towards the edge. 'I'm going to try it,' he said. 

'Very good! ' said Sam gloomily. 'But I'm going first.' 

'You? ' said Frodo. 'What's made you change your mind about climbing?' 

'I haven't changed my mind. But it's only sense: put the one lowest as 
is most likely to slip. I don't want to come down atop of you and knock you 
off no sense in killing two with one fall.' 

Before Frodo could stop him, he sat down, swung his legs over the 
brink, and twisted round, scrabbling with his toes for a foothold. It is 
doubtful if he ever did anything braver in cold blood, or more unwise. 

'No, no! Sam, you old ass! ' said Frodo. 'You'll kill yourself for 
certain going over like that without even a look to see what to make for. 
Come back! ' He took Sam under the armpits and hauled him up again. 'Now, 
wait a bit and be patient! ' he said. Then he lay on the ground, leaning out 
and looking down: but the light seemed to be fading quickly, although the 
sun had not yet set. 'I think we could manage this,' he said presently. 'I 
could at any rate; and you could too. if you kept your head and followed me 
carefully.' 

'I don't know how you can be so sure,' said Sam. 'Why! You can't see to 
the bottom in this light. What if you comes to a place where there's nowhere 
to put your feet or your hands?' 

'Climb back, I suppose,' said Frodo. 

'Easy said,' objected Sam. 'Better wait till morning and more light.' 

'No! Not if I can help it,' said Frodo with a sudden strange vehemence. 

I grudge every hour, every minute. I'm going down to try it out. Don't you 
follow till I come back or call!' 

Gripping the stony lip of the fall with his fingers he let himself 
gently down, until when his arms were almost at full stretch, his toes found 
a ledge. 'On_ e step down! ' he said. 'And this ledge broadens out to the 
right. I could stand there without a hold. I'll—' his words were cut short. 

The hurrying darkness, now gathering great speed, rushed up from the 
East and swallowed the sky. There was a dry splitting crack of thunder right 
overhead. Searing lightning smote down into the hills. Then came a blast of 
savage wind, and with it, mingling with its roar, there came a high shrill 
shriek. The hobbits had heard just such a cry far away in the Marish as they 
fled from Hobbiton, and even there in the woods of the Shire it had frozen 




their blood. Out here in the waste its terror was far greater: it pierced 
them with cold blades of horror and despair, stopping heart and breath. Sam 
fell flat on his face. Involuntarily Frodo loosed his hold and put his hands 
over his head and ears. He swayed, slipped, and slithered downwards with a 
wailing cry. 

Sam heard him and crawled with an effort to the edge. 'Master, master! 

' he called. ’Master!'. 

He heard no answer. He found he was shaking all over, but he gathered 
his breath, and once again he shouted: 'Master!' The wind seemed to blow his 
voice back into his throat, but as it passed, roaring up the gully and away 
over the hills, a faint answering cry came to his ears: 

'All right, all right! I'm here. But I can't see.' 

Frodo was calling with a weak voice. ,He was not actually very far 
away. He had slid and not fallen, and had come up with a jolt to his feet on 
a wider ledge not many yards lower down. Fortunately the rock-face at this 
point leaned well back and the wind had pressed him against the cliff, so 
that he had not toppled over. He steadied himself a little, laying his face 
against the cold stone, feeling his heart pounding. But either the darkness 
had grown complete, or else his eyes had lost their sight. All was black 
about him. He wondered if he had been struck blind. He took a deep breath. 

'Come back! Come back! ' he heard Sam's voice out of the blackness 
above. 

'I can't,’ he said. 'I can't see. I can't find any hold. I can't move 
yet.' 

'What can I do, Mr. Frodo? What can I do? ’ shouted Sam, leaning out 
dangerously far. Why could not his master see? It was dim, certainly, but 
not as dark as all that. He could see Frodo below him, a grey forlorn figure 
splayed against the cliff. But he was far out of the reach of any helping 
hand. 

There was another crack of thunder; and then the rain came. In a 
blinding sheet, mingled with hail, it drove against the cliff, bitter cold. 

Tm coming down to you,' shouted Sam, though how he hoped to help in 
that way he could not have said. 

'No, no! wait! 'Frodo called back, more strongly now. 'I shall be 
better soon. I feel better already. Wait! You can't do anything without a 
rope.' 

'Rope!' cried Sam, talking wildly to himself in his excitement and 




relief. 'Well, if I don’t deserve to be hung on the end of one as a warning 
to numbskulls! You're nowt but a ninnyhammer, Sam Gamgee: that's what 
the 

Gaffer said to me often enough, it being a word of his. Rope!' 

'Stop chattering!’ cried Frodo, now recovered enough to feel both 
amused and annoyed. ’Never mind your Gaffer! Are you trying to tell yourself 
you've got some rope in your pocket? If so, out with it! 

'Yes, Mr. Frodo, in my pack and all. Carried it hundreds of miles and 
I'd clean forgotten it!' 

'Then get busy and let an end down!’ 

Quickly Sam unslung his pack and rummaged in it. There indeed at the 
bottom was a coil of the silken-grey rope made by the folk of Lurien. He 
cast an end to his master. The darkness seemed to lift from Frodo's eyes, or 
else his sight was returning. He could see the grey line as it came dangling 
down, and he thought it had a faint silver sheen. Now that he had some point 
in the darkness to fix his eyes on, he felt less giddy. Leaning his weight 
forward, he made the end fast round his waist, and then he grasped the line 
with both hands. 

Sam stepped back and braced his feet against a stump a yard or two from 
the edge. Half hauled, half scrambling. Frodo came up and threw himself on 
the ground. 

Thunder growled and rumbled in the distance, and the rain was still 
falling heavily. The hobbits crawled away back into the gully; but they did 
not find much shelter there. Rills of water began to run down; soon they 
grew to a spate that splashed and fumed on the stones, and spouted out over 
the cliff like the gutters of a vast roof. 

'I should have been half drowned down there, or washed clean off,' said 
Frodo. 'What a piece of luck you had that rope!' 

'Better luck if I'd thought of it sooner,' said Sam. 'Maybe you 
remember them putting the ropes in the boats, as we started off: in the 
elvish country. I took a fancy to it, and I stowed a coil in my pack. Years 
ago, it seems. "It may be a help in many needs," he said: Haldir, or one of 
those folk. And he spoke right.' 

'A pity I didn't think of bringing another length,' said Frodo; 'but I 
left the Company in such a hurry and confusion. If only we had enough we 
could use it to get down. How long is your rope, I wonder?’ 

Sam paid it out slowly, measuring it with his arms: 'Five, ten, twenty, 




thirty ells, more or less,' he said. 

'Who'd have thought it!' Frodo exclaimed. 

'Ah! Who would? ' said Sam. 'Elves are wonderful folk. It looks a bit 
thin, but it's tough; and soft as milk to the hand. Packs close too, and as 
light as light. Wonderful folk to be sure!' 

'Thirty ells! ' said Frodo considering. 'I believe it would be enough. 

If the storm passes before nightfall, I'm going to try it.' 

'The rain's nearly given over already,' said Sam; 'but don't you go 
doing anything risky in the dim again, Mr. Frodo! And I haven't got over 
that shriek on the wind yet, if you have. Like a Black Rider it sounded-but 
one up in the air, if they can fly. I'm thinking we'd best lay up in this 
crack till night's over.' 

'And I'm thinking that I won't spend a moment longer than I need stuck 
up on this edge with the eyes of the Dark Country looking over the marshes,' 
said Frodo. 

With that he stood up and went down to the bottom of the gully again. 

He looked out. Clear sky was growing in the East once more. The skirts of 
the storm were lifting, ragged and wet, and the main battle had passed to 
spread its great wings over the Emyn Muil; upon which the dark thought of 
Sauron brooded for a while. Thence it turned, smiting the Vale of Anduin 
with hail and lightning, and casting its shadow upon Minas Tirith with 
threat of war. Then, lowering in the mountains, and gathering its great 
spires, it rolled on slowly over Gondor and the skirts of Rohan, until far 
away the Riders on the plain saw its black towers moving behind the sun, as 
they rode into the West. But here, over the desert and the reeking marshes 
the deep blue sky of evening opened once more, and a few pallid stars 
appeared, like small white holes in the canopy above the crescent moon. 

'It's good to be able to see again,' said Frodo, breathing deep. 'Do 
you know, I thought for a bit that I had lost my sight? From the lightning 
or something else worse. I could see nothing, nothing at all, until the grey 
rope came down. It seemed to shimmer somehow.' 

'It does look sort of silver in the dark,' said Sam. 'Never noticed it 
before, though I can't remember as I've ever had it out since I first stowed 
it. But if you're so set on climbing, Mr. Frodo, how are you going to use 
it? Thirty ells, or say, about eighteen fathom: that's no more than your 
guess at the height of the cliff.' 

Frodo thought for a while. 'Make it fast to that stump, Sam! ’ he said. 




'Then I think you shall have your wish this time and go first. I'll lower 
you, and you need do no more than use your feet and hands to fend yourself 
off the rock. Though, if you put your weight on some of the ledges and give 
me a rest, it will help. When you're down, I'll follow. I feel quite myself 
again now.' 

'Very well,' said Sam heavily. 'If it must be, let's get it over! ' He 
took up the rope and made it fast over the stump nearest to the brink; then 
the other end he tied about his own waist. Reluctantly he turned and 
prepared to go over the edge a second time. 

It did not, however, turn out half as bad as he had expected. The rope 
seemed to give him confidence, though he shut his eyes more than once when 
he looked down between his feet. There was one awkward spot, where there 
was 

no ledge and the wall was sheer and even undercut for a short space; there 
he slipped and swung out on the silver line. But Frodo lowered him slowly 
and steadily, and it was over at last. His chief fear had been that the 
rope-length would give out while he was still high up, but there was still a 
good bight in Frodo's hands, when Sam came to the bottom and called up: 'I'm 
down! ' His voice came up clearly from below, but Frodo could not see him; 
his grey elven-cloak had melted into the twilight. 

Frodo took rather more time to follow him. He had the rope about his 
waist and it was fast above, and he had shortened it so that it would pull 
him up before he reached the ground; still he did not want to risk a fall, 
and he had not quite Sam's faith in this slender grey line. He found two 
places, all the same, where he had to trust wholly to it: smooth surfaces 
where there was no hold even for his strong hobbit fingers and the ledges 
were far apart. But at last he too was down. 

'Well!' he cried. 'We've done it! We've escaped from the Emyn Muil! And 
now what next, I wonder? Maybe we shall soon be sighing for good hard rock 
under foot again.' 

But Sam did not answer: he was staring back up the cliff. 

'Ninny hammers! ' he said. 'Noodles! My beautiful rope! There it is tied to a 
stump, and we're at the bottom. Just as nice a little stair for that 
slinking Gollum as we could leave. Better put up a signpost to say which way 
we've gone! I thought it seemed a bit too easy.' 

'If you can think of any way we could have both used the rope and yet 
brought it down with us, then you can pass on to me ninnyhammer, or any 




other name your Gaffer gave you,' said Frodo. 'Climb up and untie it and let 
yourself down, if you want to!' 

Sam scratched his head. 'No, I can't think how, begging your pardon,' 
he said. 'But I don't like leaving it, and that's a fact.' He stroked the 
rope's end and shook it gently. 'It goes hard parting with anything I 
brought out of the Elf-country. Made by Galadriel herself, too, maybe. 
Galadriel,' he murmured nodding his head mournfully. He looked up and gave 
one last pull to the rope as if in farewell. 

To the complete surprise of both the hobbits it came loose. Sam fell 
over, and the long grey coils slithered silently down on top of him. Frodo 
laughed. 'Who tied the rope? ' he said. 'A good thing it held as long as it 
did! To think that I trusted all my weight to your knot!’ 

Sam did not laugh. 'I may not be much good at climbing, Mr. Frodo,' he 
said in injured tones, 'but I do know something about rope and about knots. 

It's in the family, as you might say. Why, my grand-dad, and my uncle Andy 
after him, him that was the Gaffer's eldest brother he had a rope-walk over 
by Tighfield many a year. And I put as fast a hitch over the stump as any 
one could have done, in the Shire or out of it.' 

'Then the rope must have broken — frayed on the rock-edge, I expect,' 
said Frodo. 

'I bet it didn't! ' said Sam in an even more injured voice. He stooped 
and examined the ends. 'Nor it hasn't neither. Not a strand!' 

'Then I'm afraid it must have been the knot,' said Frodo. 

Sam shook his head and did not answer. He was passing the rope through 
his fingers thoughtfully. 'Have it your own way, Mr. Frodo,' he said at 
last, 'but I think the rope came off itself — when I called.' He coiled it 
up and stowed it lovingly in his pack. 

'It certainly came,' said Frodo, 'and that's the chief thing. But now 
we've got to think of our next move. Night will be on us soon. How beautiful 
the stars are, and the Moon!' 

'They do cheer the heart, don't they? ' said Sam looking up. 'Elvish 
they are. somehow. And the Moon's growing. We haven't seen him for a night 
or two in this cloudy weather. He's beginning to give quite a light.' 

'Yes,' said Frodo; 'but he won't be full for some days. I don't think 
we'll try the marshes by the light of half a moon.' 

Under the first shadows of night they started out on the next stage of 
their journey. After a while Sam turned and looked back at the way they had 




come. The mouth of the gully was a black notch in the dim cliff. Tm glad 
we’ve got the rope,' he said. 'We’ve set a little puzzle for that footpad, 
anyhow. He can try his nasty flappy feet on those ledges!' 

They picked their steps away from the skirts of the cliff, among a 
wilderness of boulders and rough stones, wet and slippery with the heavy 
rain. The ground still fell away sharply. They had not gone very far when 
they came upon a great fissure that yawned suddenly black before their feet. 
It was not wide, but it was too wide to jump across in the dim light. They 
thought they could hear water gurgling in its depths. It curved away on 
their left northward, back towards the hills, and so barred their road in 
that direction, at any rate while darkness lasted. 

'We had better try a way back southwards along the line of the cliff, I 
think,' said Sam. 'We might find some nook there, or even a cave or 
something.' 

'I suppose so,' said Frodo. Tm tired, and I don't think I can 
scramble among stones much longer tonight — though I grudge the delay. I 
wish there was a clear path in front of us: then I'd go on till my legs gave 
way.' 

They did not find the going any easier at the broken feet of the Emyn 
Muil. Nor did Sam find any nook or hollow to shelter in: only bare stony 
slopes frowned over by the cliff, which now rose again, higher and more 
sheer as they went back. In the end, worn out, they just cast themselves on 
the ground under the lee of a boulder lying not far from the foot of the 
precipice. There for some time they sat huddled mournfully together in the 
cold stony night, while sleep crept upon them in spite of all they could do 
to hold it off. The moon now rode high and clear. Its thin white light lit 
up the faces of the rocks and drenched the cold frowning walls of the cliff, 
turning all the wide looming darkness into a chill pale grey scored with 
black shadows. 

'Well! ' said Frodo, standing up and drawing his cloak more closely 
round him. 'You sleep for a bit Sam and take my blanket. I'll walk up and 
down on sentry for a while.' Suddenly he stiffened, and stooping he gripped 
Sam by the arm. 'What's that? ' he whispered. 'Look over there on the 
cliff!’ 

Sam looked and breathed in sharply through his teeth. 'Ssss!' he said. 
'That's what it is. It's that Gollum! Snakes and adders! And to think that I 
thought that we'd puzzle him with our bit of a climb! Look at him! Like a 




nasty crawling spider on a wall.' 

Down the face of a precipice, sheer and almost smooth it seemed in the 
pale moonlight, a small black shape was moving with its thin limbs splayed 
out. Maybe its soft clinging hands and toes were finding crevices and holds 
that no hobbit could ever have seen or used, but it looked as if it was just 
creeping down on sticky pads, like some large prowling thing of insect-kind. 
And it was coming down head first, as if it was smelling its way. Now and 
again it lifted its head slowly, turning it right back on its long skinny 
neck, and the hobbits caught a glimpse of two small pale gleaming lights, 
its eyes that blinked at the moon for a moment and then were quickly lidded 
again. 

'Do you think he can see us? ' said Sam. 

'I don't know,' said Frodo quietly, 'but I think not. It is hard even 
for friendly eyes to see these elven-cloaks: I cannot see you in the shadow 
even at a few paces. And I've heard that he doesn’t like Sun or Moon.' 

'Then why is he coming down just here? ’ asked Sam. 

'Quietly, Sam! ' said Frodo. 'He can smell us, perhaps. And he can hear 
as keen as Elves, I believe. I think he has heard something now: our voices 
probably. We did a lot of shouting away back there; and we were talking far 
too loudly until a minute ago.' 

'Well, I'm sick of him,' said Sam. 'He's come once too often for me and 
I'm going to have a word with him, if I can. I don't suppose we could give 
him the slip now anyway.' Drawing his grey hood well over his face, Sam 
crept stealthily towards the cliff. 

'Careful!' whispered Frodo coming behind. 'Don't alarm him! He's much 
more dangerous than he looks.' 

The black crawling shape was now three-quarters of the way down, and 
perhaps fifty feet or less above the cliffs foot. Crouching stone-still in 
the shadow of a large boulder the hobbits watched him. He seemed to have 
come to a difficult passage or to be troubled about something. They could 
hear him snuffling, and now and again there was a harsh hiss of breath that 
sounded like a curse. He lifted his head, and they thought they heard him 
spit. Then he moved on again. Now they could hear his voice creaking and 
whistling. 

'Ach, sss! Cautious, my precious! More haste less speed. We musstn't 
rissk our neck, musst we, precious? No, precious — golluml' He lifted his 
head again, blinked at the moon, and quickly shut his eyes. 'We hate it,' he 




hissed. 'Nassty, nassty shivery light it is — sss — it spies on us, 
precious — it hurts our eyes.' 

He was getting lower now and the hisses became sharper and clearer. 
'Where iss it, where iss it: my Precious, my Precious? It's ours, it is, and 
we wants it. The thieves, the thieves, the filthy little thieves. Where are 
they with my Precious? Curse them! We hates them.' 

'It doesn't sound as if he knew we were here, does it? ' whispered Sam. 
'And what's his Precious? Does he mean the' 

'Hsh! ' breathed Frodo. 'He's getting near now, near enough to hear a 
whisper.' 

Indeed Gollum had suddenly paused again, and his large head on its 
scrawny neck was lolling from side to side as if he was listening. His pale 
eyes were half unlidded. Sam restrained himself, though his fingers were 
twitching. His eyes, filled with anger and disgust, were fixed on the 
wretched creature as he now began to move again, still whispering and 
hissing to himself. 

At last he was no more than a dozen feet from the ground, right above 
their heads. From that point there was a sheer drop, for the cliff was 
slightly undercut, and even Gollum could not find a hold of any kind. He 
seemed to be trying to twist round, so as to go legs first, when suddenly 
with a shrill whistling shriek he fell. As he did so, he curled his legs and 
arms up round him, like a spider whose descending thread is snapped. 

Sam was out of his hiding in a flash and crossed the space between him 
and the cliff foot in a couple of leaps. Before Gollum could get up, he was 
on top of him. But he found Gollum more than he bargained for, even taken 
like that, suddenly, off his guard after a fall. Before Sam could get a 
hold, long legs and arms were wound round him pinning his arms, and a 
clinging grip, soft but horribly strong, was squeezing him like slowly 
tightening cords; clammy fingers were feeling for his throat. Then sharp 
teeth bit into his shoulder. All he could do was to butt his hard round head 
sideways into the creature's face. Gollum hissed and spat, but he did not 
let go. 

Things would have gone ill with Sam, if he had been alone. But Frodo 
sprang up, and drew Sting from its sheath. With his left hand he drew back 
Gollum's head by his thin lank hair, stretching his long neck, and forcing 
his pale venomous eyes to stare up at the sky. 

'Let go! Gollum,' he said. 'This is Sting. You have seen it before once 




upon a time. Let go, or you'll feel it this time! I'll cut your throat.' 

Gollum collapsed and went as loose as wet string. Sam got up, fingering 
his shoulder. His eyes smouldered with anger, but he could not avenge 
himself: his miserable enemy lay grovelling on the stones whimpering. 

'Don't hurt us! Don't let them hurt us, precious! They won't hurt us 
will they, nice little hobbitses? We didn't mean no harm, but they jumps on 
us like cats on poor mices, they did, precious. And we're so lonely, gollum. 
We'll be nice to them, very nice, if they'll be nice to us, won't we, yes, 
yess.' 

'Well, what’s to be done with it? ' said Sam. 'Tie it up, so as it 
can't come sneaking after us no more, I say.' 

'But that would kill us, kill us,' whimpered Gollum. 'Cruel little 
hobbitses. Tie us up in the cold hard lands and leave us, gollum, gollum.' 
Sobs welled up in his gobbling throat. 

'No,' said Frodo. 'If we kill him, we must kill him outright. But we 
can't do that, not as things are. Poor wretch! He has done us no harm.' 

'Oh hasn't he! ' said Sam rubbing his shoulder. 'Anyway he meant to, 
and he means to, I'll warrant. Throttle us in our sleep, that's his plan.' 

'I daresay,' said Frodo. 'But what he means to do is another matter.' 

He paused for a while in thought. Gollum lay still, but stopped whimpering. 
Sam stood glowering over him. 

It seemed to Frodo then that he heard, quite plainly but far off, 
voices out of the past: 

What a pity Bilbo did not stub the vile creature, when he had a chance! 

Pity? It was Pity that stayed his hand. Pity, and Mercy: not to strike 
without need. 

I do not feel any pity for Gollum. He deserves death. 

Deserves death! I daresay he does. Many that live deserve death. And 
some die that deserve life. Can you give that to them? Then be not too eager 
to deal out death in the name of justice, fearing for your own safety. Even 
the wise cannot see all ends. 

'Very well,’ he answered aloud, lowering his sword. 'But still I am 
afraid. And yet, as you see, I will not touch the creature. For now that I 
see him, I do pity him.' 

Sam stared at his master, who seemed to be speaking to some one who was 
not there. Gollum lifted his head. 

'Yess, wretched we are, precious,' he whined. 'Misery misery! Hobbits 




won't kill us, nice hobbits.' 

'No, we won't,' said Frodo. 'But we won't let you go, either. You're 
full of wickedness and mischief, Gollum. You will have to come with us, 
that's all, while we keep an eye on you. But you must help us, if you can. 

One good turn deserves another.' 

'Yess, yes indeed,' said Gollum sitting up. 'Nice hobbits! We will come 
with them. Find them safe paths in the dark, yes we will. And where are they 
going in these cold hard lands, we wonders, yes we wonders? ' He looked up 
at them, and a faint light of cunning and eagerness flickered for a second 
in his pale blinking eyes. 

Sam scowled at him, and sucked his teeth; but he seemed to sense that 
there was something odd about his master's mood and that the matter was 
beyond argument. All the same he was amazed at Frodo's reply. 

Frodo looked straight into Gollum's eyes which flinched and twisted 
away. 'You know that, or you guess well enough, Smjagol,' he said, quietly 
and sternly. 'We are going to Mordor, of course. And you know the way there, 
I believe.' 

'Ach! sss! ' said Gollum, covering his ears with his hands, as if such 
frankness, and the open speaking of the names, hurt him. 'We guessed, yes we 
guessed,' he whispered; 'and we didn't want them to go, did we? No, 
precious, not the nice hobbits. Ashes, ashes, and dust, and thirst there is; 
and pits, pits, pits, and Ores, thousands of Orcses. Nice hobbits mustn't go 
to — sss — those places.' 

'So you have been there? ' Frodo insisted. 'And you're being drawn back 
there, aren't you?' 

'Yess. Yess. No! ' shrieked Gollum. 'Once, by accident it was, wasn't 
it, precious? Yes, by accident. But we won't go back, no, no!' Then suddenly 
his voice and language changed, and he sobbed in his throat, and spoke but 
not to them. 'Leave me alone, golluml You hurt me. O my poor hands, gollum 
I, we, I don't want to come back. I can't find it. I am tired. I, we can't 
find it, gollum, gollum, no, nowhere. They're always awake. Dwarves, Men, 
and Elves, terrible Elves with bright eyes. I can't find it. Ach! ' He got 
up and clenched his long hand into a bony fleshless knot, shaking it towards 
the East. 'We won't! ' he cried. 'Not for you.' Then he collapsed again. 
'Gollum, gollum,' he whimpered with his face to the ground. 'Don't look at 
us! Go away! Go to sleep!' 

'He will not go away or go to sleep at your command, Smjagol,' said 




Frodo. 'But if you really wish to be free of him again, then you must help 
me. And that I fear means finding us a path towards him. But you need not go 
all the way, not beyond the gates of his land.' 

Gollum sat up again and looked at him under his eyelids. 'He's over 
there,' he cackled. 'Always there. Ores will take you all the way. Easy to 
find Ores east of the River. Don't ask Smjagol. Poor, poor Smjagol, he went 
away long ago. They took his Precious, and he's lost now.' 

'Perhaps we'll find him again, if you come with us,' said Frodo. 

'No, no, never! He's lost his Precious,' said Gollum. 

'Get up! ' said Frodo. 

Gollum stood up and backed away against the cliff. 

'Now! ’ said Frodo. 'Can you find a path easier by day or by night? 

We're tired; but if you choose the night, we'll start tonight.' 

'The big lights hurt our eyes, they do,’ Gollum whined. 'Not under the 
White Face, not yet. It will go behind the hills soon, yess. Rest a bit 
first, nice hobbits!’ 

'Then sit down,' said Frodo, 'and don't move!' 

The hobbits seated themselves beside him, one on either side, with 
their backs to the stony wall, resting their legs. There was no need for any 
arrangement by word: they knew that they must not sleep for a moment. Slowly 
the moon went by. Shadows fell down from the hills, and all grew dark before 
them. The stars grew thick and bright in the sky above. No one stirred. 
Gollum sat with his legs drawn up, knees under chin, flat hands and feet 
splayed on the ground, his eyes closed; but he seemed tense, as if thinking 
or listening. 

Frodo looked across at Sam. Their eyes met and they understood. They 
relaxed, leaning their heads back, and shutting their eyes or seeming to. 

Soon the sound of their soft breathing could be heard. Gollum's hands 
twitched a little. Hardly perceptibly his head moved to the left and the 
right, and first one eye and then the other opened a slit. The hobbits made 
no sign. 

Suddenly, with startling agility and speed, straight off the ground 
with a jump like a grasshopper or a frog. Gollum bounded forward into the 
darkness. But that was just what Frodo and Sam had expected. Sam was on 
him 

before he had gone two paces after his spring. Frodo coming behind grabbed 
his leg and threw him. 




'Your rope might prove useful again, Sam.' he said. 

Sam got out the rope. 'And where were you off to in the cold hard 
lands, Mr. Gollum?' he growled. 'We wonders, aye, we wonders. To find 
some 

of your ore-friends, I warrant. You nasty treacherous creature. It's round 
your neck this rope ought to go, and a tight noose too.' 

Gollum lay quiet and tried no further tricks. He did not answer Sam, 
but gave him a swift venomous look. 

'All we need is something to keep a hold on him,' said Frodo. 'We want 
him to walk, so it's no good tying his legs-or his arms, he seems to use 
them nearly as much. Tie one end to his ankle, and keep a grip on the other 
end.' 

He stood over Gollum, while Sam tied the knot. The result surprised 
them both. Gollum began to scream, a thin, tearing sound, very horrible to 
hear. He writhed, and tried to get his mouth to his ankle and bite the rope. 

He kept on screaming. 

At last Frodo was convinced that he really was in pain; but it could 
not be from the knot. He examined it and found that it was not too tight, 
indeed hardly tight enough. Sam was gentler than his words. 'What's the 
matter with you? ' he said. 'If you will try to run away, you must be tied; 
but we don't wish to hurt you.' 

'It hurts us, it hurts us,' hissed Gollum. 'It freezes, it bites! Elves 
twisted it, curse them! Nasty cruel hobbits! That's why we tries to escape, 
of course it is, precious. We guessed they were cruel hobbits. They visits 
Elves, fierce Elves with bright eyes. Take it off us! It hurts us.' 

'No, I will not take it off you,’ said Frodo, 'not unless' — he paused 
a moment in thought — 'not unless there is any promise you can make that I 
can trust.' 

'We will swear to do what he wants, yes, yess, said Gollum, still 
twisting and grabbling at his ankle. 'It hurts us.' 

'Swear? ’ said Frodo. 

'Smjagol,' said Gollum suddenly and clearly, opening his eyes wide and 
staring at Frodo with a strange light. 'Smjagol will swear on the Precious.' 

Frodo drew himself up, and again Sam was startled by his words and his 
stern voice. 'On the Precious? How dare you? ' he said. 'Think! 

One Ring to rule them all and in the Darkness bind them. 

Would you commit your promise to that, Smjagol? It will hold you. But 




it is more treacherous than you are. It may twist your words. Beware!' 

Gollum cowered. 'On the Precious, on the Precious! ' he repeated. 

'And what would you swear? ' asked Frodo. 

'To be very very good,' said Gollum. Then crawling to Frodo's feet he 
grovelled before him, whispering hoarsely: a shudder ran over him, as if the 
words shook his very bones with fear. 'Smjagol will swear never, never, to 
let Him have it. Never! Smjagol will save it. But he must swear on the 
Precious.' 

'No! not on it,' said Frodo, looking down at him with stern pity. 'All 
you wish is to see it and touch it, if you can, though you know it would 
drive you mad. Not on it. Swear by it, if you will. For you know where it 
is. Yes, you know, Smjagol. It is before you.' 

For a moment it appeared to Sam that his master had grown and Gollum 
had shrunk: a tall stern shadow, a mighty lord who hid his brightness in 
grey cloud, and at his feet a little whining dog. Yet the two were in some 
way akin and not alien: they could reach one another's minds. Gollum raised 
himself and began pawing at Frodo, fawning at his knees. 

'Down! down! ' said Frodo. 'Now speak your promise!’ 

'We promises, yes I promise!’ said Gollum. ’I will serve the master of 
the Precious. Good master, good Smjagol, gollum, gollumY Suddenly he began 
to weep and bite at his ankle again. 

'Take the rope off, Sam!' said Frodo. 

Reluctantly Sam obeyed. At once Gollum got up and began prancing about, 
like a whipped cur whose master has patted it. From that moment a change, 
which lasted for some time, came over him. He spoke with less hissing and 
whining, and he spoke to his companions direct, not to his precious self. He 
would cringe and flinch, if they stepped near him or made any sudden 
movement, and he avoided the touch of their elven-cloaks; but he was 
friendly, and indeed pitifully anxious to please. He would cackle with 
laughter and caper, if any jest was made, or even if Frodo spoke kindly to 
him, and weep if Frodo rebuked him. Sam said little to him of any sort. He 
suspected him more deeply than ever, and if possible liked the new Gollum, 
the Smjagol, less than the old. 

'Well, Gollum, or whatever it is we're to call you,' he said, 'now for 
it! The Moon's gone, and the night's going. We'd better start.' 

'Yes, yes,' agreed Gollum, skipping about. 'Off we go! There's only one 
way across between the North-end and the South-end. I found it, I did. Ores 




don’t use it, Ores don't know it. Ores don’t cross the Marshes, they go 
round for miles and miles. Very lucky you came this way. Very lucky you 
found Smjagol, yes. Follow Smjagol!' 

He took a few steps away and looked back inquiringly, like a dog 
inviting them for a walk. 'Wait a bit, Gollum!' cried Sam. 'Not too far 
ahead now! I'm going to be at your tail, and I've got the rope handy.' 

'No, no! ' said Gollum. 'Smjagol promised.' 

In the deep of night under hard clear stars they set off. Gollum led 
them back northward for a while along the way they had come; then he slanted 
to the right away from the steep edge of the Emyn Muil, down the broken 
stony slopes towards the vast fens below. They faded swiftly and softly into 
the darkness. Over all the leagues of waste before the gates of Mordor there 
was a black silence. 




Chapter 2 . The Passage of the Marshes 



Gollum moved quickly, with his head and neck thrust forward, often 
using his hands as well as his feet. Frodo and Sam were hard put to it to 
keep up with him; but he seemed no longer to have any thought of escaping, 
and if they fell behind, he would turn and wait for them. After a time he 
brought them to the brink of the narrow gully that they had struck before; 
but they were now further from the hills. 

'Here it is!' he cried. 'There is a way down inside, yes. Now we 
follows it — out, out away over there.' He pointed south and east towards 
the marshes. The reek of them came to their nostrils, heavy and foul even in 
the cool night air. . 

Gollum cast up and down along the brink, and at length he called to 
them. 'Here! We can get down here. Smjagol went this way once: I went this 
way, hiding from Ores.' 

He led the way, and following him the hobbits climbed down into the 
gloom. It was not difficult, for the rift was at this point only some 
fifteen feet deep and about a dozen across. There was running water at the 
bottom: it was in fact the bed of one of the many small rivers that trickled 
down from the hills to feed the stagnant pools and mires beyond. Gollum 
turned to the right, southward more or less, and splashed along with his 
feet in the shallow stony stream. He seemed greatly delighted to feel the 
water, and chuckled to himself, sometimes even croaking in a sort of song. 

The cold hard lands, 
they bites our hands, 
they gnaws our feet. 

The rocks and stones 
are like old bones 
all bare of meat. 

But stream and pool 
is wet and cool: 
so nice for feet! 

And now we wish — 

'Ha! ha! What does we wish?' he said, looking sidelong at the hobbits. 
'We'll tell you.' he croaked. 'He guessed it long ago, Baggins guessed it.’ 

A glint came into his eyes, and Sam catching the gleam in the darkness 




thought it far from pleasant. 

Alive without breath; 
as cold as death; 
never thirsting, ever drinking; 
clad in mail, never clinking. 

Drowns on dry land, 
thinks an island 
is a mountain; 
thinks a fountain 
is a puff of air. 

So sleek, so fair! 

What a joy to meet! 

We only wish 
to catch a fish, 
so juicy-sweet! 

These words only made more pressing to Sam's mind a problem that had 
been troubling him from the moment when he understood that hir master was 
going to adopt Gollum as a guide: the problem of food. It did not occur to 
him that his master might also have thought of it. hut he supposed Gollum 
had. Indeed how had Gollum kept himself in all his lonely wandering? 'Not 
too well,' thought Sam. 'He looks fair famished. Not too dainty to try what 
hobbit tastes like if there ain't no fish, I'll wager — supposing as he 
could catch us napping. Well, he won't: not Sam Gamgee for one.' 

They stumbled along in the dark winding gully for a long time, or so it 
seemed to the tired feet of Frodo and Sam. The gully turned eastward, and as 
they went on it broadened and got gradually shallower. At last the sky above 
grew faint with the first grey of morning. Gollum had shown no signs of 
tiring, but now he looked up and halted. 

'Day is near,' he whispered, as if Day was something that might 
overhear him and spring on him. 'Smjagol will stay here: I will stay here, 
and the Yellow Face won't see me.' 

'We should be glad to see the Sun;' said Frodo, 'but we will stay here: 
we are too tired to go any further at present.' 

'You are not wise to be glad of the Yellow Face,' said Gollum. 'It 
shows you up. Nice sensible hobbits stay with Smjagol. Ores and nasty things 
are about. They can see a long way. Stay and hide with me! ' 

The three of them settled down to rest at the foot of the rocky wall of 




the gully. It was not much more than a tall man’s height now, and at its 
base there were wide flat shelves of dry stone; the water ran in a channel 
on the other side. Frodo and Sam sat on one of the flats, resting their 
backs. Gollum paddled and scrabbled in the stream. 

'We must take a little food,' said Frodo. 'Are you hungry, Smjagol? We 
have very little to share, but we will spare you what we can.’ 

At the word hungry a greenish light was kindled in Gollum’s pale eyes, 
and they seemed to protrude further than ever from his thin sickly face. For 
a moment he relapsed into his old Gollum-manner. ’We are famisshed, yes 
famisshed we are. precious,’ he said. 'What is it they eats? Have they nice 
fisshes? ’ His tongue lolled out between his sharp yellow teeth, licking his 
colourless lips. 

'No, we have got no fish,’ said Frodo. 'We have only got this’ — he 
held up a wafer of lembas — ’and water, if the water here is fit to drink.’ 

'Yess, yess, nice water,’ said Gollum. 'Drink it, drink it, while we 
can! But what is it they’ve got, precious? Is it crunchable? Is it tasty? ’ 

Frodo broke off a portion of a wafer and handed it to him on its 
leaf- wrapping. Gollum sniffed at the leaf and his face changed: a spasm of 
disgust came over it, and a hint of his old malice. 'Smjagol smells it! ’he 
said. 'Leaves out of the elf-country, gah! They stinks. He climbed in those 
trees, and he couldn’t wash the smell off his hands, my nice hands.’ 
Dropping the leaf, he took a corner of the lembas and nibbled it. He spat, 
and a fit of coughing shook him. 

'Ach! No! ’ he spluttered. 'You try to choke poor Smjagol. Dust and 
ashes, he can’t eat that. He must starve. But Smjagol doesn't mind. Nice 
hobbits! Smjagol has promised. He will starve. He can’t eat hobbits' food. 

He will starve. Poor thin Smjagol! ' 

'I'm sorry,' said Frodo; 'but I can't help you, I'm afraid. I think 
this food would do you good, if you would try. But perhaps you can't even 
try, not yet anyway.’ 

The hobbits munched their lembas in silence. Sam thought that it tasted 
far better, somehow, than it had for a good while: Gollum's behaviour had 
made him attend to its flavour again. But he did not feel comfortable. 
Gollum watched every morsel from hand to mouth, like an expectant dog by 
diner's chair. Only when they had finished and were preparing to rest, was 
he apparently convinced that they had no hidden dainties that he could share 
in. Then he went and sat by himself a few paces away and whimpered a little. 




'Look here! ' Sam whispered to Frodo, not too softly: he did not really 
care whether Gollum heard him or not. 'We’ve got to get some sleep; but not 
both together with that hungry villain nigh, promise or no promise. Smjagol 
or Gollum, he won't change his habits in a hurry, I'll warrant. You go to 
sleep, Mr. Frodo, and I'll call you when I can't keep my eyelids propped up. 
Turn and about, same as before, while he's loose.' 

'Perhaps you're right, Sam,' said Frodo speaking openly. 'There is a 
change in him, but just what kind of a change and how deep, I'm not sure 
yet. Seriously though, I don't think there is any need for fear — at 
present. Still watch if you wish. Give me about two hours, not more, and 
then call me.' 

So tired was Frodo that his head fell forward on his breast and he 
slept, almost as soon as he had spoken the words. Gollum seemed no longer to 
have any fears. He curled up and went quickly to sleep, quite unconcerned. 
Presently his breath was hissing softly through his clenched teeth, hut he 
lay still as stone. After a while, fearing that he would drop off himself, 
if he sat listening to his two companions breathing, Sam got up and gently 
prodded Gollum. His hands uncurled and twitched, but he made no other 
movement. Sam bent down and said fissh close to his ear, but there was no 
response, not even a catch in Gollum's breathing. 

Sam scratched his head. 'Must really be asleep,' he muttered. 'And if I 
was like Gollum, he wouldn't wake up never again.' He restrained the 
thoughts of his sword and the rope that sprang to his mind, and went and sat 
down by his master. 

When he woke up the sky above was dim, not lighter but darker than when 
they had breakfasted. Sam leapt to his feet. Not least from his own feeling 
of vigour and hunger, he suddenly understood that he had slept the daylight 
away, nine hours at least. Frodo was still fast asleep, lying now stretched 
on his side. Gollum was not to be seen. Various reproachful names for 
himself came to Sam's mind, drawn from the Gaffer's large paternal 
word-hoard; then it also occurred to him that his master had been right: 
there had for the present been nothing to guard against. They were at any 
rate both alive and unthrottled. 

'Poor wretch! ' he said half remorsefully. 'Now I wonder where he's got 
to? ' 

'Not far, not far! ' said a voice above him. He looked up and saw the 
shape of Gollum's large head and ears against the evening sky. 




'Here, what are you doing? ' cried Sam, his suspicions coming back as 
soon as he saw that shape. 

'Smjagol is hungry,' said Gollum. 'Be back soon.' 

'Come back now!' shouted Sam. 'Hi! Come back!' But Gollum had vanished. 

Frodo woke at the sound of Sam's shout and sat up, rubbing his eyes. 
'Hullo!' he said. 'Anything wrong? What's the time?' 

'I dunno,' said Sam. 'After sundown, I reckon. And he's gone off. Says 
he's hungry.' 

'Don't worry!' said Frodo. 'There's no help for it. But he'll come 
back, you'll see. The promise will hold yet a while. And he won't leave his 
Precious, anyway.' 

Frodo made light of it when he learned that they had slept soundly for 
hours with Gollum, and a very hungry Gollum too, loose beside them. 'Don't 
think of any of your Gaffer's hard names,' he said. 'You were worn out, and 
it has turned out well: we are now both rested. And we have a hard road 
ahead, the worst road of all.' 

'About the food,' said Sam. 'How long's it going to take us to do this 
job? And when it's done, what are we going to do then? This waybread keeps 
you on your legs in a wonderful way, though it doesn't satisfy the innards 
proper, as you might say: not to my feeling anyhow, meaning no disrespect to 
them as made it. But you have to eat some of it every day, and it doesn't 
grow. I reckon we've got enough to last, say, three weeks or so, and that 
with a tight belt and a light tooth, mind you. We've been a bit free with it 
so far.' 

'I don't know how long we shall take to — to finish,' said Frodo. 'We 
were miserably delayed in the hills. But Samwise Gamgee, my dear hobbit — 
indeed, Sam my dearest hobbit, friend of friends — I do not think we need 
give thought to what comes after that. To do the job as you put it — what 
hope is there that we ever shall? And if we do, who knows what will come of 
that? If the One goes into the Fire, and we are at hand? I ask you, Sam, are 
we ever likely to need bread again? I think not. If we can nurse our limbs 
to bring us to Mount Doom, that is all we can do. More than I can, I begin 
to feel.’ 

Sam nodded silently. He took his master's hand and bent over it. He did 
not kiss it, though his tears fell on it. Then he turned away, drew his 
sleeve over his nose, and got up, and stamped about, trying to whistle, and 
saying between the efforts: 'Where's that dratted creature?' 




It was actually not long before Gollum returned; but he came so quietly 
that they did not hear him till he stood before them. His fingers and face 
were soiled with black mud. He was still chewing and slavering. What he was 
chewing, they did not ask or like to think. 

'Worms or beetles or something slimy out of holes,' thought Sam. 'Brr! 

The nasty creature; the poor wretch! ' 

Gollum said nothing to them, until he had drunk deeply and washed 
himself in the stream. Then he came up to them, licking his lips. 'Better 
now,' he said. 'Are we rested? Ready to go on? Nice hobbits, they sleep 
beautifully. Trust Smjagol now? Very, very good.' 

The next stage of their journey was much the same as the last. As they 
went on the gully became ever shallower and the slope of its floor more 
gradual. Its bottom was less stony and more earthy, and slowly its sides 
dwindled to mere banks. It began to wind and wander. That night drew to its 
end, but clouds were now over moon and star, and they knew of the coming of 
day only by the slow spreading of the thin grey light. 

In a chill hour they came to the end of the water -course. The banks 
became moss-grown mounds. Over the last shelf of rotting stone the stream 
gurgled and fell down into a brown bog and was lost. Dry reeds hissed and 
rattled though they could feel no wind. 

On either side and in front wide fens and mires now lay, stretching 
away southward and eastward into the dim half-light. Mists curled and smoked 
from dark and noisome pools. The reek of them hung stifling in the still 
air. Far away, now almost due south, the mountain-walls of Mordor loomed, 
like a black bar of rugged clouds floating above a dangerous fog-bound sea. 

The hobbits were now wholly in the hands of Gollum. They did now know, 
and could not guess in that misty light, that they were in fact only just 
within the northern borders of the marshes, the main expanse of which lay 
south of them. They could, if they had known the lands, with some delay have 
retraced their steps a little, and then turning east have come round over 
hard roads to the bare plain of Dagorlad: the field of the ancient battle 
before the gates of Mordor. Not that there was great hope in such a course. 

On that stony plain there was no cover, and across it ran the highways of 
the Ores and the soldiers of the Enemy. Not even the cloaks of Lurien would 
have concealed them there. 

'How do we shape our course now, Smjagol? ' asked Frodo. 'Must we cross 
these evil-smelling fens? ' 




'No need, no need at all,' said Gollum. 'Not if hobbits want to reach 
the dark mountains and go to see Him very quick. Back a little, and round a 
little' — his skinny arm waved north and east — 'and you can come on hard 
cold roads to the very gates of His country. Lots of His people will be 
there looking out for guests, very pleased to take them straight to Him, O 
yes. His Eye watches that way all the time. It caught Smjagol there, long 
ago.' Gollum shuddered. 'But Smjagol has used his eyes since then, yes, yes: 
I've used eyes and feet and nose since then. 1 know other ways. More 
difficult, not so quick; but better, if we don't want Him to see. Follow 
Smjagol! He can take you through the marshes, through the mists, nice thick 
mists. Follow Smjagol very carefully, and you may go a long way. quite a 
long way, before He catches you, yes perhaps.' 

It was already day, a windless and sullen morning, and the marsh-reeks 
lay in heavy banks. No sun pierced the low clouded sky, and Gollum seemed 
anxious to continue the journey at once. So after a brief rest they set out 
again and were soon lost in a shadowy silent world, cut off from all view of 
the lands about, either the hills that they had left or the mountains that 
they sought. They went slowly in single file: Gollum, Sam, Frodo. 

Frodo seemed the most weary of the three, and slow though they went, he 
often lagged. The hobbits soon found that what had looked like one vast fen 
was really an endless network of pools, and soft mires, and winding 
half- strangled water -courses. Among these a cunning eye and foot could 
thread a wandering path. Gollum certainly had that cunning, and needed all 
of it. His head on its long neck was ever turning this way and that, while 
he sniffed and muttered all the time to himself. Sometimes he would hold up 
his hand and halt them, while he went forward a little, crouching, testing 
the ground with fingers or toes, or merely listening with one ear pressed to 
the earth. 

It was dreary and wearisome. Cold clammy winter still held sway in this 
forsaken country. The only green was the scum of livid weed on the dark 
greasy surfaces of the sullen waters. Dead grasses and rotting reeds loomed 
up in the mists like ragged shadows of long-forgotten summers. 

As the day wore on the light increased a little, and the mists lifted, 
growing thinner and more transparent. Far above the rot and vapours of the 
world the Sun was riding high and golden now in a serene country with floors 
of dazzling foam, but only a passing ghost of her could they see below, 
bleared, pale, giving no colour and no warmth. But even at this faint 




reminder of her presence Gollum scowled and flinched. He halted their 
journey, and they rested, squatting like little hunted animals, in the 
borders of a great brown reed-thicket. There was a deep silence, only 
scraped on its surfaces by the faint quiver of empty seed-plumes, and broken 
grass-blades trembling in small air -movements that they could not feel. 

'Not a bird! ' said Sam mournfully. 

'No, no birds,' said Gollum. 'Nice birds! ' He licked his teeth. 'No 
birds here. There are snakeses, wormses, things in the pools. Lots of 
things, lots of nasty things. No birds,' he ended sadly. Sam looked at him 
with distaste. 

So passed the third day of their journey with Gollum. Before the 
shadows of evening were long in happier lands, they went on again, always on 
and on with only brief halts. These they made not so much for rest as to 
help Gollum; for now even he had to go forward with great care, and he was 
sometimes at a loss for a while. They had come to the very midst of the Dead 
Marshes, and it was dark. 

They walked slowly, stooping, keeping close in line, following 
attentively every move that Gollum made. The fens grew more wet, opening 
into wide stagnant meres, among which it grew more and more difficult to 
find the firmer places where feet could tread without sinking into gurgling 
mud. The travellers were light, or maybe none of them would ever have found 
a way through. 

Presently it grew altogether dark: the air itself seemed black and 
heavy to breathe. When lights appeared Sam rubbed his eyes: he thought his 
head was going queer. He first saw one with the corner of his left eye, a 
wisp of pale sheen that faded away; but others appeared soon after: some 
like dimly shining smoke, some like misty flames flickering slowly above 
unseen candles; here and there they twisted like ghostly sheets unfurled by 
hidden hands. But neither of his companions spoke a word. 

At last Sam could bear it no longer. 'What's all this, Gollum? ' he 
said in a whisper. 'These lights? They're all round us now. Are we trapped? 
Who are they? ' 

Gollum looked up. A dark water was before him, and he was crawling on 
the ground, this way and that, doubtful of the way. 'Yes, they are all round 
us,' he whispered. 'The tricksy lights. Candles of corpses, yes, yes. Don't 
you heed them! Don't look! Don't follow them! Where's the master? ' 

Sam looked back and found that Frodo had lagged again. He could not see 




him. He went some paces back into the darkness, not daring to move far, or 
to call in more than a hoarse whisper. Suddenly he stumbled against Frodo, 
who was standing lost in thought, looking at the pale lights. His hands hung 
stiff at his sides; water and slime were dripping from them. 

'Come, Mr. Frodo! ' said Sam. 'Don't look at them! Gollum says we 
mustn't. Let's keep up with him and get out of this cursed place as quick as 
we can — if we can! ' 

'All right,' said Frodo, as if returning out of a dream. 'I'm coming. 

Go on! ' 

Hurrying forward again, Sam tripped, catching his foot in some old root 
or tussock. He fell and came heavily on his hands, which sank deep into 
sticky ooze, so that his face was brought close to the surface of the dark 
mere. There was a faint hiss, a noisome smell went up, the lights flickered 
and danced and swirled. For a moment the water below him looked like some 
window, glazed with grimy glass, through which he was peering. Wrenching 
his 

hands out of the bog, he sprang back with a cry. 'There are dead things, 
dead faces in the water,' he said with horror. 'Dead faces ! ' 

Gollum laughed. 'The Dead Marshes, yes, yes: that is their names,' he 
cackled. 'You should not look in when the candles are lit.’ 

'Who are they? What are they? ’ asked Sam shuddering, turning to Frodo, 
who was now behind him. 

’I don't know,' said Frodo in a dreamlike voice. 'But I have seen them 
too. In the pools when the candles were lit. They lie in all the pools, pale 
faces, deep deep under the dark water. I saw them: grim faces and evil, and 
noble faces and sad. Many faces proud and fair, and weeds in their silver 
hair. But all foul, all rotting, all dead. A fell light is in them.' Frodo 
hid his eyes in his hands. 'I know not who they are; but I thought I saw 
there Men and Elves, and Ores beside them.' 

'Yes, yes,' said Gollum. 'All dead, all rotten. Elves and Men and Ores. 

The Dead Marshes. There was a great battle long ago, yes, so they told him 
when Smjagol was young, when I was young before the Precious came. It was 
a 

great battle. Tall Men with long swords, and terrible Elves, and Orcses 
shrieking. They fought on the plain for days and months at the Black Gates. 
But the Marshes have grown since then, swallowed up the graves; always 
creeping, creeping.' 




'But that is an age and more ago,' said Sam. The Dead can’t be really 
there! Is it some devilry hatched in the Dark Land? ’ 

'Who knows? Smjagol doesn't know,' answered Gollum. 'You cannot reach 
them, you cannot touch them. We tried once, .yes, precious. I tried once; 
but you cannot reach them. Only shapes to see, perhaps, not to touch. No 
precious! All dead.' 

Sam looked darkly at him and shuddered again, thinking that he guessed 
why Smjagol had tried to touch them. 'Well, I don't want to see them,' he 
said. 'Never again! Can't we get on and get away? ' 

'Yes, yes,' said Gollum. 'But slowly, very slowly. Very carefully! Or 
hobbits go down to join the Dead ones and light little candles. Follow 
Smjagol! Don't look at lights! ' 

He crawled away to the right, seeking for a path round the mere. They 
came close behind, stooping, often using their hands even as he did. 'Three 
precious little Gollums in a row we shall be, if this goes on much longer,' 
thought Sam. 

At last they came to the end of the black mere, and they crossed it, 
perilously, crawling or hopping from one treacherous island tussock to 
another. Often they floundered, stepping or falling hands-first into waters 
as noisome as a cesspool, till they were slimed and fouled almost up to 
their necks and stank in one another's nostrils. 

It was late in the night when at length they reached firmer ground 
again. Gollum hissed and whispered to himself, but it appeared that he was 
pleased: in some mysterious way, by some blended sense of feel, and smell, 
and uncanny memory for shapes in the dark, he seemed to know just where he 
was again, and to be sure of his road ahead. 

'Now on we go! 'he said. 'Nice hobbits! Brave hobbits! Very very 
weary, of course; so we are, my precious, all of us. But we must take master 
away from the wicked lights, yes, yes, we must.' With these words he started 
off again, almost at a trot, down what appeared to be a long lane between 
high reeds, and they stumbled after him as quickly as they could. But in a 
little while he stopped suddenly and sniffed the air doubtfully, hissing as 
if he was troubled or displeased again. 

'What is it? ' growled Sam, misinterpreting the signs. 'What's the need 
to sniff? The stink nearly knocks me down with my nose held. You stink, and 
master stinks; the whole place stinks.' 

'Yes, yes, and Sam stinks! ' answered Gollum. 'Poor Smjagol smells it, 




but good Smjagol bears it. Helps nice master. But that's no matter. The 
air’s moving, change is coming. Smjagol wonders; he's not happy.' 

He went on again, but his uneasiness grew, and every now and again he 
stood up to his full height, craning his neck eastward and southward. For 
some time the hobbits could not hear or feel what was troubling him. Then 
suddenly all three halted, stiffening and listening. To Frodo and Sam it 
seemed that they heard, far away, a long wailing cry, high and thin and 
cruel. They shivered. At the same moment the stirring of the air became 
perceptible to them; and it grew very cold. As they stood straining their 
ears, they heard a noise like a wind coming in the distance. The misty 
lights wavered, dimmed, and went out. 

Gollum would not move. He stood shaking and gibbering to himself, until 
with a rush the wind came upon them, hissing and snarling over the marshes. 
The night became less dark, light enough for them to see, or half see, 
shapeless drifts of fog, curling and twisting as it rolled over them and 
passed them. Looking up they saw the clouds breaking and shredding; and then 
high in the south the moon glimmered out, riding in the flying wrack. 

For a moment the sight of it gladdened the hearts of the hobbits; but 
Gollum cowered down, muttering curses on the White Face. Then Frodo and 
Sam 

staring at the sky, breathing deeply of the fresher air, saw it come: a 
small cloud flying from the accursed hills; a black shadow loosed from 
Mordor; a vast shape winged and ominous. It scudded across the moon, and 
with a deadly cry went away westward, outrunning the wind in its fell speed. 

They fell forward, grovelling heedlessly on the cold earth. But the 
shadow of horror wheeled and returned, passing lower now, right above them, 
sweeping the fen-reek with its ghastly wings. And then it was gone, flying 
back to Mordor with the speed of the wrath of Sauron; and behind it the wind 
roared away, leaving the Dead Marshes bare and bleak. The naked waste, as 
far as the eye could pierce, even to the distant menace of the mountains, 
was dappled with the fitful moonlight. 

Frodo and Sam got up, rubbing their eyes, like children wakened from an 
evil dream to find the familiar night still over the world. But Gollum lay 
on the ground as if he had been stunned. They roused him with difficulty, 
and for some time he would not lift his face, but knelt forward on his 
elbows, covering the back of his head with his large flat hands. 

'Wraiths!' he wailed. 'Wraiths on wings! The Precious is their master. 




They see everything, everything. Nothing can hide from them. Curse the White 
Face! And they tell Him everything. He sees, He knows. Ach, gollum, gollum, 
golluml ' It was not until the moon had sunk, westering far beyond Tol 
Brandir, that he would get up or make a move. 

From that time on Sam thought that he sensed a change in Gollum again. 

He was more fawning and would-be friendly; but Sam surprised some strange 
looks in his eyes at times, especially towards Frodo; and he went back more 
and more into his old manner of speaking. And Sam had another growing 
anxiety. Frodo seemed to be weary, weary to the point of exhaustion. He said 
nothing, indeed he hardly spoke at all; and he did not complain, but he 
walked like one who carries a load, the weight of which is ever increasing; 
and he dragged along, slower and slower, so that Sam had often to beg Gollum 
to wait and not to leave their master behind. 

In fact with every step towards the gates of Mordor Frodo felt the Ring 
on its chain about his neck grow more burdensome. He was now beginning to 
feel it as an actual weight dragging him earthwards. But far more he was 
troubled by the Eye: so he called it to himself. It was that more than the 
drag of the Ring that made him cower and stoop as he walked. The Eye: that 
horrible growing sense of a hostile will that strove with great power to 
pierce all shadows of cloud, and earth, and flesh, and to see you: to pin 
you under its deadly gaze, naked, immovable. So thin, so frail and thin, the 
veils were become that still warded it off. Frodo knew just where the 
present habitation and heart of that will now was: as certainly as a man can 
tell the direction of the sun with his eyes shut. He was facing it, and its 
potency beat upon his brow. 

Gollum probably felt something of the same sort. But what went on in 
his wretched heart between the pressure of the Eye, and the lust of the Ring 
that was so near, and his grovelling promise made half in the fear of cold 
iron, the hobbits did not guess: Frodo gave no thought to it. Sam's mind was 
occupied mostly with his master hardly noticing the dark cloud that had 
fallen on his own heart. He put Frodo in front of him now, and kept a 
watchful eye on every movement of his, supporting him if he stumbled, and 
trying to encourage him with clumsy words. 

When day came at last the hobbits were surprised to see how much closer 
the ominous mountains had already drawn. The air was now clearer and colder, 
and though still far off, the walls of Mordor were no longer a cloudy menace 
on the edge of sight, but as grim black towers they frowned across a dismal 




waste. The marshes were at an end, dying away into dead peats and wide flats 
of dry cracked mud. The land ahead rose in long shallow slopes, barren and 
pitiless, towards the desert that lay at Sauron’s gate. 

While the grey light lasted, they cowered under a black stone like 
worms, shrinking, lest the winged terror should pass and spy them with its 
cruel eyes. The remainder of that journey was a shadow of growing fear in 
which memory could find nothing to rest upon. For two more nights they 
struggled on through the weary pathless land. The air, as it seemed to them, 
grew harsh, and filled with a bitter reek that caught their breath and 
parched their mouths. 

At last, on the fifth morning since they took the road with Gollum, 
they halted once more. Before them dark in the dawn the great mountains 
reached up to roofs of smoke and cloud. Out from their feet were flung huge 
buttresses and broken hills that were now at the nearest scarce a dozen 
miles away. Frodo looked round in horror. Dreadful as the Dead Marshes had 
been, and the arid moors of the Noman-lands, more loathsome far was the 
country that the crawling day now slowly unveiled to his shrinking eyes. 
Even to the Mere of Dead Faces some haggard phantom of green spring 
would 

come; but here neither spring nor summer would ever come again. Here 
nothing 

lived, not even the leprous growths that feed on rottenness. The gasping 
pools were choked with ash and crawling muds, sickly white and grey, as if 
the mountains had vomited the filth of their entrails upon the lands about. 

High mounds of crushed and powdered rock, great cones of earth fire-blasted 
and poison-stained, stood like an obscene graveyard in endless rows, slowly 
revealed in the reluctant light. 

They had come to the desolation that lay before Mordor: the lasting 
monument to the dark labour of its slaves that should endure when all their 
purposes were made void; a land defiled, diseased beyond all healing — 
unless the Great Sea should enter in and wash it with oblivion. V I feel 
sick,’ said Sam. Frodo did not speak. 

For a while they stood there, like men on the edge of a sleep where 
nightmare lurks, holding it off, though they know that they can only come to 
morning through the shadows. The light broadened and hardened. The 
gasping 

pits and poisonous mounds grew hideously clear. The sun was up, walking 




among clouds and long flags of smoke, but even the sunlight was defiled. The 
hobbits had no welcome for that light; unfriendly it seemed, revealing them 
in their helplessness — little squeaking ghosts that wandered among the 
ash-heaps of the Dark Lord. 

Too weary to go further they sought for some place where they could 
rest. For a while they sat without speaking under the shadow of a mound of 
slag; but foul fumes leaked out of it, catching their throats and choking 
them. Gollum was the first to get up. Spluttering and cursing he rose, and 
without a word or a glance at the hobbits he crawled away on all fours. 
Frodo and Sam crawled after him, until they came to a wide almost circular 
pit, high-banked upon the west. It was cold and dead, and a foul sump of 
oily many-coloured ooze lay at its bottom. In this evil hole they cowered, 
hoping in its shadow to escape the attention of the Eye. 

The day passed slowly. A great thirst troubled them, but they drank 
only a few drops from their bottles-last filled in the gully, which now as 
they looked back in thought seemed to them a place of peace and beauty. The 
hobbits took it in turn to watch. At first, tired as they were, neither of 
them could sleep at all; but as the sun far away was climbing down into slow 
moving cloud, Sam dozed. It was Frodo's turn to be on guard. He lay back on 
the slope of the pit, but that did not ease the sense of burden that was on 
him. He looked up at the smoke-streaked sky and saw strange phantoms, dark 
riding shapes, and faces out of the past. He lost count of time, hovering 
between sleep and waking, until forgetfulness came over him. 

Suddenly Sam woke up thinking that he heard his master calling. It was 
evening. Frodo could not have called, for he had fallen asleep, and had slid 
down nearly to the bottom of the pit. Gollum was by him. For a moment Sam 
thought that he was trying to rouse Frodo; then he saw that it was not so. 
Gollum was talking to himself. Smjagol was holding a debate with some other 
thought that used the same voice but made it squeak and hiss. A pale light 
and a green light alternated in his eyes as he spoke. 

'Smjagol promised,’ said the first thought. 

'Yes, yes, my precious,’ came the answer, ’we promised: to save our 
Precious, not to let Him have it — never. But it’s going to Him yes, nearer 
every step. What’s the hobbit going to do with it, we wonders, yes we 
wonders.’ 

'I don’t know. I can’t help it. Master’s got it. Smjagol promised to 
help the master.’ 




'Yes, yes, to help the master: the master of the Precious. But if we 
was master, then we could help ourself s, yes, and still keep promises.' 

'But Smjagol said he would be very very good. Nice hobbit! He took 
cruel rope off Smjagol's leg. He speaks nicely to me.' 

'Very very good, eh, my precious? Let's be good, good as fish, sweet 
one, but to ourselfs. Not hurt the nice hobbit, of course, no, no.' 

'But the Precious holds the promise,’ the voice of Smjagol objected. 

'Then take it,' said the other, 'and let's hold it ourselfs! Then we 
shall be master, golluml Make the other hobbit, the nasty suspicious hobbit, 
make him crawl, yes, golluml' 

'But not the nice hobbit? ’ 

'Oh no, not if it doesn't please us. Still he's a Baggins, my precious, 
yes, a Baggins. A Baggins stole it. He found it and he said nothing, 
nothing. We hates Bagginses.' 

'No, not this Baggins.' 

'Yes, every Baggins. All peoples that keep the Precious. We must have 
it! ' 

'But He'll see, He'll know. He'll take it from us! ' 

'He sees. He knows. He heard us make silly promises — against His 
orders, yes. Must take it. The Wraiths are searching. Must take it.' 

'Not for Him! ' 

'No, sweet one. See, my precious: if we has it, then we can escape, 
even from Him, eh? Perhaps we grows very strong, stronger than Wraiths. Lord 
Smjagol? Gollum the Great? The Gollum! Eat fish every day, three times a 
day; fresh from the sea. Most Precious Gollum! Must have it. We wants it, we 
wants it, we wants it! ' 

'But there's two of them. They'll wake too quick and kill us,' whined 
Smjagol in a last effort. 'Not now. Not yet.’ 

'We wants it! But' — and here there was a long pause, as if a new 
thought had wakened. 'Not yet, eh? Perhaps not. She might help. She might, 
yes.’ 

'No, no! Not that way! ' wailed Smjagol. 

'Yes! We wants it! We wants it! ’ 

Each time that the second thought spoke, Gollum's long hand crept out 
slowly, pawing towards Frodo, and then was drawn back with a jerk as 
Smjagol 

spoke again. Finally both arms, with long fingers flexed and twitching, 




clawed towards his neck. 

Sam had lain still, fascinated by this debate, but watching every move 
that Gollum made from under his half-closed eye-lids. To his simple mind 
ordinary hunger, the desire to eat hobbits, had seemed the chief danger in 
Gollum. He realized now that it was not so: Gollum was feeling the terrible 
call of the Ring. The Dark Lord was He, of course; but Sam wondered who 
She 

was. One of the nasty friends the little wretch had made in his wanderings, 
he supposed. Then he forgot the point, for things had plainly gone far 
enough, and were getting dangerous. A great heaviness was in all his limbs, 
but he roused himself with an effort and sat up. Something warned him to be 
careful and not to reveal that he had overheard the debate. He let out a 
loud sigh and gave a huge yawn. 

'What's the time? ' he said sleepily. 

Gollum sent out a long hiss through his teeth. He stood up for a 
moment, tense and menacing; and then he collapsed, falling forward on to all 
fours and crawling up the bank of the pit. 'Nice hobbits! Nice Sam! ' he 
said. 'Sleepy heads, yes, sleepy heads! Leave good Smjagol to watch! But 
it's evening. Dusk is creeping. Time to go.' 

'High time! ' thought Sam. 'And time we parted, too.' Yet it crossed 
his mind to wonder if indeed Gollum was not now as dangerous turned loose as 
kept with them. 'Curse him! I wish he was choked!' he muttered. He stumbled 
down the bank and roused his master. 

Strangely enough, Frodo felt refreshed. He had been dreaming. The dark 
shadow had passed, and a fair vision had visited him in this land of 
disease. Nothing remained of it in his memory, yet because of it he felt 
glad and lighter of heart. His burden was less heavy on him. Gollum welcomed 
him with dog-like delight. He chuckled and chattered, cracking his long 
fingers, and pawing at Frodo's knees. Frodo smiled at him. 

'Come! ' he said. 'You have guided us well and faithfully. This is the 
last stage. Bring us to the Gate, and then I will not ask you to go further. 

Bring us to the Gate, and you may go where you wish — only not to our 
enemies.' 

'To the Gate, eh?' Gollum squeaked, seeming surprised and frightened. 

'To the Gate, master says! Yes, he says so. And good Smjagol does what he 
asks, O yes. But when we gets closer, we'll see perhaps we'll see then. It 
won't look nice at all. O no! O no!' 




’Go on with you! ' said Sam. 'Let's get it over! ' 

In the falling dusk they scrambled out of the pit and slowly threaded 
their way through the dead land. They had not gone far before they felt once 
more the fear that had fallen on them when the winged shape swept over the 
marshes. They halted, cowering on the evil-smelling ground; but they saw 
nothing in the gloomy evening sky above, and soon the menace passed, high 
overhead, going maybe on some swift errand from Barad-dyr. After a while 
Gollum got up and crept forward again, muttering and shaking. 

About an hour after midnight the fear fell on them a third time, but it 
now seemed more remote, as if it were passing far above the clouds, rushing 
with terrible speed into the West. Gollum, however, was helpless with 
terror, and was convinced that they were being hunted, that their approach 
was known. 

'Three times! ' he whimpered. 'Three times is a threat. They feel us 
here, they feel the Precious. The Precious is their master. We cannot go any 
further this way, no. It's no use, no use! ' 

Pleading and kind words were no longer of any avail. It was not until 
Frodo commanded him angrily and laid a hand on his sword-hilt that Gollum 
would get up again. Then at last he rose with a snarl, and went before them 
like a beaten dog. 

So they stumbled on through the weary end of the night, and until the 
coming of another day of fear they walked in silence with bowed heads, 
seeing nothing, and hearing nothing but the wind hissing in their ears. 




Chapter 3 . The Black Gate is Closed 



Before the next day dawned their journey to Mordor was over. The 
marshes and the desert were behind them. Before them, darkling against a 
pallid sky, the great mountains reared their threatening heads. 

Upon the west of Mordor marched the gloomy range of Ephel D®ath, the 
Mountains of Shadow, and upon the north the broken peaks and barren ridges 
of Ered Lithui, grey as ash. But as these ranges approached one another, 
being indeed but parts of one great wall about the mournful plains of 
Lithlad and of Gorgoroth, and the bitter inland sea of N® men amidmost, they 
swung out long arms northward; and between these arms there was a deep 
defile. This was Cirith Gorgor, the Haunted Pass, the entrance to the land 
of the Enemy. High cliffs lowered upon either side, and thrust forward from 
its mouth were two sheer hills, black -boned and bare. Upon them stood the 
Teeth of Mordor, two towers strong and tall. In days long past they were 
built by the Men of Gondor in their pride and power, after the overthrow of 
Sauron and his flight, lest he should seek to return to his old realm. But 
the strength of Gondor failed, and men slept, and for long years the towers 
stood empty. Then Sauron returned. Now the watch-towers, which had fallen 
into decay, were repaired, and filled with arms, and garrisoned with 
ceaseless vigilance. Stony -faced they were, with dark window-holes staring 
north and east and west, and each window was full of sleepless eyes. 

Across the mouth of the pass, from cliff to cliff, the Dark Lord had 
built a rampart of stone. In it there was a single gate of iron, and upon 
its battlement sentinels paced unceasingly. Beneath the hills on either side 
the rock was bored into a hundred caves and maggot-holes: there a host of 
ores lurked, ready at a signal to issue forth like black ants going to war. 

None could pass the Teeth of Mordor and not feel their bite, unless they 
were summoned by Sauron, or knew the secret passwords that would open 
the 

Morannon, the black gate of his land. 

The two hobbits gazed at the towers and the wall in despair. Even from 
a distance they could see in the dim light the movement of the black guards 
upon the wall, and the patrols before the gate. They lay now peering over 
the edge of a rocky hollow beneath the out-stretched shadow of the northmost 




buttress of Ephel D®ath. Winging the heavy air in a straight flight a crow, 
maybe, would have flown but a furlong from their hiding-place to the black 
summit of the nearer tower. A faint smoke curled above it, as if fire 
smouldered in the hill beneath. 

Day came, and the fallow sun blinked over the lifeless ridges of Ered 
Lithui. Then suddenly the cry of brazen-throated trumpets was heard: from 
the watch-towers they blared, and far away from hidden holds and outposts in 
the hills came answering calls; and further still, remote but deep and 
ominous, there echoed in the hollow land beyond the mighty horns and drums 
of Barad-dyr. Another dreadful day of fear and toil had come to Mordor; and 
the night-guards were summoned to their dungeons and deep halls, and the 
day-guards, evil-eyed and fell, were marching to their posts. Steel gleamed 
dimly on the battlement. 

'Well, here we are! ' said Sam. 'Here’s the Gate, and it looks to me as 
if that’s about as far as we are ever going to get. My word, but the Gaffer 
would have a thing or two to say, if he saw me now! Often said I’d come to a 
bad end, if I didn't watch my step, he did. But now I don't suppose I'll 
ever see the old fellow again. He'll miss his chance of I told'ee so, Sam: 
more's the pity. He could go on telling me as long as he'd got breath, if 
only I could see his old face again. But I'd have to get a wash first, or he 
wouldn't know me. 

'I suppose it's no good asking "what way do we go now?" We can't go no 
further -unless we want to ask the ores for a lift.' 

'No, no! ' said Gollum. 'No use. We can't go further. Smjagol said so. 

He said: we'll go to the Gate, and then we'll see. And we do see. O yes. my 
precious, we do see. Smjagol knew hobbits could not go this way. O yes. 
Smjagol knew ' 

'Then what the plague did you bring us here for? ' said Sam, not 
feeling in the mood to be just or reasonable. 

'Master said so. Master says: Bring us to the Gate. So good Smjagol 
does so. Master said so, wise master.' 

'I did,' said Frodo. His face was grim and set. but resolute. He was 
filthy, haggard, and pinched with weariness, but he cowered no longer, and 
his eyes were clear. 'I said so, because I purpose to enter Mordor, and I 
know no other way. Therefore I shall go this way. I do not ask anyone to go 
with me.’ 

'No, no, master! ' wailed Gollum; pawing at him, and seeming in great 




distress. 'No use that way! No use! Don’t take the Precious to Him! He'll 
eat us all, if He gets it, eat all the world. Keep it, nice master, and be 
kind to Smjagol. Don’t let Him have it. Or go away, go to nice places, and 
give it back to little Smjagol. Yes, yes, master: give it back, eh? Smjagol 
will keep it safe; he will do lots of good, especially to nice hobbits. 

Hobbits go home. Don’t go to the Gate! ’ 

'I am commanded to go to the land of Mordor, and therefore I shall go,’ 
said Frodo. 'If there is only one way, then I must take it. What comes after 
must come.' 

Sam said nothing. The look on Frodo's face was enough for him he knew 
that words of his were useless. And after all he never had any real hope in 
the affair from the beginning; but being a cheerful hobbit he had not needed 
hope, as long as despair could be postponed. Now they were come to the 
bitter end. But he had stuck to his master all the way; that was what he had 
chiefly come for, and he would still stick to him. His master would not go 
to Mordor alone. Sam would go with him-and at any rate they would get rid of 
Gollum. 

Gollum, however, did not intend to be got rid of, yet. He knelt at 
Frodo's feet, wringing his hands and squeaking. 'Not this way, master! ' he 
pleaded, 'There is another way. O yes indeed there is. Another way. darker, 
more difficult to find, more secret. But Smjagol knows it. Let Smjagol show 
you! ' 

'Another way! ' said Frodo doubtfully, looking down at Gollum with 
searching eyes. 

'Yess! Yess indeed! There was another way. Smjagol found it. Let's go 
and see if it's still there! ' 

'You have not spoken of this before.’ 

'No. Master did not ask. Master did not say what he meant to do. He 
does not tell poor Smjagol. He says: Smjagol, take me to the Gate — and 
then good bye! Smjagol can run away and be good. But now he says: I purpose 
to enter Mordor this way. So Smjagol is very afraid. He does not want to 
lose nice master. And he promised, master made him promise, to save the 
Precious. But master is going to take it to Him, straight to the Black Hand, 
if master will go this way. So Smjagol must save them both, and he thinks of 
another way that there was, once upon a time. Nice master. Smjagol very 
good, always helps.' 

Sam frowned. If he could have bored holes in Gollum with his eyes, he 




would have done. His mind was full of doubt. To all appearances Gollum was 
genuinely distressed and anxious to help Frodo. But Sam, remembering the 
overheard debate, found it hard to believe that the long submerged Smjagol 
had come out on top: that voice at any rate had not had the last word in the 
debate. Sam's guess was that the Smjagol and Gollum halves (or what in his 
own mind he called Slinker and Stinker) had made a truce and a temporary 
alliance: neither wanted the Enemy to get the Ring; both wished to keep 
Frodo from capture, and under their eye, as long as possible — at any rate 
as long as Stinker still had a chance of laying hands on his ’Precious'. 
Whether there really was another way into Mordor Sam doubted. 

'And it's a good thing neither half of the old villain don't know what 
master means to do,' he thought. 'If he knew that Mr. Frodo is trying to put 
an end to his Precious for good and all, there'd be trouble pretty quick, I 
bet. Anyhow old Stinker is so frightened of the Enemy — and he's under 
orders of some kind from him, or was — that he'd give us away rather than 
be caught helping us; and rather than let his Precious be melted, maybe. At 
least that's my idea. And I hope the master will think it out carefully. 

He's as wise as any, but he's soft-hearted, that's what he is. It's beyond 
any Gamgee to guess what he'll do next.' 

Frodo did not answer Gollum at once. While these doubts were passing 
through Sam's slow but shrewd mind, he stood gazing out towards the dark 
cliff of Cirith Gorgor. The hollow in which they had taken refuge was delved 
in the side of a low hill, at some little height above a long trenchlike 
valley that lay between it and the outer buttresses of the mountains. In the 
midst of the valley stood the black foundations of the western watch-tower. 

By morning -light the roads that converged upon the Gate of Mordor could 
now 

be clearly seen, pale and dusty; one winding back northwards; another 
dwindling eastwards into the mists that clung about the feet of Ered Lithui; 
and a third that ran towards him. As it bent sharply round the tower, it 
entered a narrow defile and passed not far below the hollow where he stood. 
Westward, to his right, it turned, skirting the shoulders of the mountains, 
and went off southwards into the deep shadows that mantled all the western 
sides of Ephel D®ath; beyond his sight it journeyed on into the narrow land 
between the mountains and the Great River. 

As he gazed Frodo became aware that there was a great stir and movement 
on the plain. It seemed as if whole armies were on the march, though for the 




most part they were hidden by the reeks and fumes drifting from the fens and 
wastes beyond. But here and there he caught the gleam of spears and helmets; 
and over the levels beside the roads horsemen could be seen riding in many 
companies. He remembered his vision from afar upon Amon Hen, so few 
days 

before, though now it seemed many years ago. Then he knew that the hope that 
had for one wild moment stirred in his heart was vain. The trumpets had not 
rung in challenge but in greeting. This was no assault upon the Dark Lord by 
the men of Gondor, risen like avenging ghosts from the graves of valour long 
passed away. These were Men of other race, out of the wide Eastlands, 
gathering to the summons of their Overlord; armies that had encamped before 
his Gate by night and now marched in to swell his mounting power. As if 
suddenly made fully aware of the peril of their position, alone, in the 
growing light of day, so near to this vast menace, Frodo quickly drew his 
frail grey hood close upon his head, and stepped down into the dell. Then he 
turned to Gollum. 

'Smjagol,' he said, 'I will trust you once more. Indeed it seems that I 
must do so, and that it is my fate to receive help from you. where I least 
looked for it, and your fate to help me whom you long pursued with evil 
purpose. So far you have deserved well of me and have kept your promise 
truly. Truly, I say and mean,' he added with a glance at Sam, 'for twice now 
we have been in your power, and you have done no harm to us. Nor have you 
tried to take from me what you once sought. May the third time prove the 
best! But I warn you, Smjagol, you are in danger.' 

'Yes, yes, master! ' said Gollum. 'Dreadful danger! Smjagol's bones 
shake to think of it. but he doesn't run away. He must help nice master.' 

'I did not mean the danger that we all share,' said Frodo. 'I mean a 
danger to yourself alone. You swore a promise by what you call the Precious. 
Remember that! It will hold you to it; but it will seek a way to twist it to 
your own undoing. Already you are being twisted. You revealed yourself to me 
just now, foolishly. Give it back to Smjagol you said. Do not say that 
again! Do not let that thought grow in you! You will never get it back. But 
the desire of it may betray you to a bitter end. You will never get it back. 

In the last need, Smjagol, I should put on the Precious; and the Precious 
mastered you long ago. If I, wearing it, were to command you, you would 
obey, even if it were to leap from a precipice or to cast yourself into the 
fire. And such would be my command. So have a care, Smjagol!' 




Sam looked at his master with approval, but also with surprise: there 
was a look in his face and a tone in his voice that he had not known before. 

It had always been a notion of his that the kindness of dear Mr. Frodo was 
of such a high degree that it must imply a fair measure of blindness. Of 
course, he also firmly held the incompatible belief that Mr. Frodo was the 
wisest person in the world (with the possible exception of Old Mr. Bilbo and 
of Gandalf). Gollum in his own way, and with much more excuse as his 
acquaintance was much briefer, may have _made a similar mistake, confusing 
kindness and blindness. At any rate this speech abashed and terrified him. 

He grovelled on the ground and could speak no clear words but nice master. 

Frodo waited patiently for a while, then he spoke again less sternly. 

'Come now, Gollum or Smjagol if you wish, tell me of this other way, and 
show me, if you can, what hope there is in it, enough to justify me in 
turning aside from my plain path. I am in haste.' 

But Gollum was in a pitiable state, and Frodo's threat had quite 
unnerved him. It was not easy to get any clear account out of him, amid his 
mumblings and squeakings, and the frequent interruptions in which he crawled 
on the floor and begged them both to be kind to 'poor little Smjagol'. After 
a while he grew a little calmer, and Frodo gathered bit by bit that, if a 
traveller followed the road that turned west of Ephel D®ath, he would come 
in time to a crossing in a circle of dark trees. On the right a road went 
down to Osgiliath and the bridges of the Anduin; in the middle the road went 
on southwards. 

'On, on, on,' said Gollum. 'We never went that way, but they say it 
goes a hundred leagues, until you can see the Great Water that is never 
still. There are lots of fishes there, and big birds eat fishes: nice birds: 
but we never went there, alas no! we never had a chance. And further still 
there are more lands, they say, but the Yellow Face is very hot there, and 
there are seldom any clouds, and the men are fierce and have dark faces. We 
do not want to see that land.' 

'No! ' said Frodo. 'But do not wander from your road. What of the third 
turning? ’ 

'O yes, O yes, there is a third way,' said Gollum. 'That is the road to 
the left. At once it begins to climb up, up, winding and climbing back 
towards the tall shadows. When it turns round the black rock, you'll see it. 
suddenly you'll see it above you, and you'll want to hide.' 

'See it, see it? What will you see? ’ 




'The old fortress, very old, very horrible now. We used to hear tales 
from the South, when Smjagol was young, long ago. O yes. we used to tell 
lots of tales in the evening, sitting by the banks of the Great River, in 
the willow-lands, when the River was younger too, gollum, gollum.' He began 
to weep and mutter. The hobbits waited patiently. 

'Tales out of the South,’ Gollum went on again, 'about the tall Men 
with the shining eyes, and their houses like hills of stone, and the silver 
crown of their King and his White Tree: wonderful tales. They built very 
tall towers, and one they raised was silver-white, and in it there was a 
stone like the Moon, and round it were great white walls. O yes, there were 
many tales about the Tower of the Moon.’ 

'That would be Minas Ithil that Isildur the son of Elendil built ’ said 
Frodo. 'It was Isildur who cut off the finger of the Enemy.’ 

'Yes, He has only four on the Black Hand, but they are enough,’ said 
Gollum shuddering. ’And He hated Isildur’ s city.’ 

’What does he not hate? ’ said Frodo. ’But what has the Tower of the 
Moon to do with us? ’ 

’Well, master, there it was and there it is: the tall tower and the 
white houses and the wall; but not nice now, not beautiful. He conquered it 
long ago. It is a very terrible place now. Travellers shiver when they see 
it, they creep out of sight, they avoid its shadow. But master will have to 
go that way. That is the only other way, For the mountains are lower there, 
and the old road goes up and up, until it reaches a dark pass at the top, 
and then it goes down, down, again — to Gorgoroth.’ His voice sank to a 
whisper and he shuddered. 

'But how will that help us? ’ asked Sam. 'Surely the Enemy knows all 
about his own mountains, and that road will be guarded as close as this? The 
tower isn’t empty, is it? ’ 

'O no, not empty! ’ whispered Gollum. 'It seems empty, but it isn’t, O 
no! Very dreadful things live there. Ores, yes always Ores; but worse 
things, worse things live there too. The road climbs right under the shadow 
of the walls and passes the gate. Nothing moves on the road that they don’t 
know about. The things inside know: the Silent Watchers.’ 

'So that’s your advice is it,’ said Sam, ’that we should go another 
long march south, to find ourselves in the same fix or a worse one, when we 
get there, if we ever do? ’ 

'No, no indeed,’ said Gollum. 'Hobbits must see, must try to 




understand. He does not expect attack that way. His Eye is all round, but it 
attends more to some places than to others. He can't see everything all at 
once, not yet. You see, He has conquered all the country west of the Shadowy 
Mountains down to the River, and He holds the bridges now. He thinks no one 
can come to the Moontower without fighting big battle at the bridges, or 
getting lots of boats which they cannot hide and He will know about.' 

'You seem to know a lot about what He's doing and thinking,' said Sam. 
'Have you been talking to Him lately? Or just hobnobbing with Ores? ' 

'Not nice hobbit, not sensible,' said Gollum, giving Sam an angry 
glance and turning to Frodo. 'Smjagol has talked to Ores, yes of course, 
before he met master, and to many peoples: he has walked very far. And what 
he says now many peoples are saying. It's here in the North that the big 
danger is for Him, and for us. He will come out of the Black Gate one day, 
one day soon. That is the only way big armies can come. But away down west 
He is not afraid, and there are the Silent Watchers.' 

'Just so! ' said Sam, not to be put off. 'And so we are to walk up and 
knock at their gate and ask if we're on the right road for Mordor? Or are 
they too silent to answer? It's not. sense. We might as well do it here, and 
save ourselves a long tramp.' 

'Don't make jokes about it,' hissed Gollum. 'It isn't funny, O no! Not 
amusing. It's nut sense to try and get into Mordor at all. But if master 
says I must go or I will go, then he must try some way. But he must not go 
to the terrible city, O no, of course not. That is where Smjagol helps, nice 
Smjagol. though no one tells him what it is all about. Smjagol helps again. 

He found it. He knows it.' 

'What did you find? ' asked Frodo. 

Gollum crouched down and his voice sank to a whisper again. 'A little 
path leading up into the mountains: and then a stair, a narrow stair, O yes, 
very long and narrow. And then more stairs. And then' — his voice sank even 
lower — 'a tunnel, a dark tunnel; and at last a little cleft, and a path 
high above the main pass. It was that way that Smjagol got out of the 
darkness. But it was years ago. The path may have vanished now; but perhaps 
not, perhaps not.' 

'I don't like the sound of it at all,' said Sam. 'Sounds too easy at 
any rate in the telling. If that path is still there, it'll be guarded too. 

Wasn't it guarded, Gollum? ' As he said this, he caught or fancied he caught 
a green gleam in Gollum' s eye. Gollum muttered but did not reply. 




'Is it not guarded? ' asked Frodo sternly. 'And did you escape out of 
the darkness, Smjagol? Were you not rather permitted to depart upon an 
errand? That at least is w hat Aragorn thought, who found you by the Dead 
Marshes some years ago.' 

'It's a lie! ' hissed Gollum, and an evil light came into his eyes at 
the naming of Aragorn. 'He lied on me, yes he did. I did escape, all by my 
poor self. Indeed I was told to seek for the Precious; and I have searched 
and searched, of course I have. But not for the Black One. The Precious was 
ours, it was mine I tell you. I did escape.' 

Frodo felt a strange certainty that in this matter Gollum was for once 
not so far from the truth as might be suspected; that he had somehow found a 
way out of Mordor, and at least believed that it was by his own cunning. For 
one thing, he noted that Gollum used I, and that seemed usually to be a 
sign, on its rare appearances, that some remnants of old truth and sincerity 
were for the moment on top. But even if Gollum could be trusted on this 
point, Frodo did not forget the wiles of the Enemy. The 'escape' may have 
been allowed or arranged, and well known in the Dark Tower. And in any case 
Gollum was plainly keeping a good deal back. 

'I ask you again,' he said: 'is not this secret way guarded? ’ 

But the name of Aragorn had put Gollum into a sullen mood. He had all 
the injured air of a liar suspected when for once he has told the truth, or 
part of it. He did not answer. 

'Is it not guarded? ' Frodo repeated. 

'Yes, yes, perhaps. No safe places in this country,' said Gollum 
sulkily. 'No safe places. But master must try it or go home. . No other 
way.' They could not get him to say more. The name of the perilous place and 
the high pass he could not tell, or would not. 

Its name was Cirith Ungol, a name of dreadful rumour. Aragorn could 
perhaps have told them that name and its significance: Gandalf would have 
warned them. But they were alone, and Aragorn was far away, and Gandalf 
stood amid the ruin of Isengard and strove with Saruman, delayed by treason. 
Yet even as he spoke his last words to Saruman, and the palantnr crashed in 
fire upon the steps of Orthanc. his thought was ever upon Frodo and Samwise, 
over the long leagues his mind sought for them in hope and pity. 

Maybe Frodo felt it, not knowing it, as he had upon Amon Hen, even 
though he believed that Gandalf was gone, gone for ever into the shadow in 
Moria far away. He sat upon the ground for a long while, silent, his head 




bowed, striving to recall all that Gandalf had said to him. But for this 
choice he could recall no counsel. Indeed Gandalf s guidance had been taken 
from them too soon, too soon, while the Dark Land was still very far away. 
How they should enter it at the last Gandalf had not said. Perhaps he could 
not say. Into the stronghold of the Enemy in the North, into Dol Guldur, he 
had once ventured. But into Mordor, to the Mountain of Fire and to 
Barad-dyr, since the Dark Lord rose in power again, had he ever journeyed 
there? Frodo did not think so. And here he was a little halfling from the 
Shire, a simple hobbit of the quiet countryside expected to find a way where 
the great ones could not go, or dared not go. It was an evil fate. But he 
had taken it on himself in his own sitting-room in the far-off spring of 
another year, so remote now that it was like a chapter in a story of the 
world's youth, when the Trees of Silver and Gold were still in bloom. This 
was an evil choice. Which way should he choose? And if both led to terror 
and death, what good lay in choice? 

The day drew on. A deep silence fell upon the little grey hollow where 
they lay, so near to the borders of the land of fear: a silence that could 
be felt, as if it were a thick veil that cut them off from all the world 
about them. Above them was a dome of pale sky barred with fleeting smoke, 
but it seemed high and far away, as if seen through great deeps of air heavy 
with brooding thought. 

Not even an eagle poised against the sun would have marked the hobbits 
sitting there, under the weight of doom, silent, p not moving, shrouded in 
their thin grey cloaks. For a moment he might have paused to consider 
Gollum, a tiny figure sprawling on the ground: there perhaps lay the 
famished skeleton of some child of Men, its ragged garment still clinging to 
it, its long arms and legs almost bone -white and bone-thin: no flesh worth a 
peck. 

Frodo’s head was bowed over his knees, but Sam leaned back, with hands 
behind his head, staring out of his hood at the empty sky. At least for a 
long while it was empty. Then presently Sam thought he saw a dark bird-like 
figure wheel into the circle of his sight, and hover, and then wheel away 
again. Two more followed, and then a fourth. They were very small to look 
at, yet he knew, somehow, that they were huge, with a vast stretch of 
pinion, flying at a great height. He covered his eyes and bent forward, 
cowering. The same warning fear was on him as he had felt in the presence of 
the Black Riders, the helpless horror that had come with the cry in the wind 




and the shadow on the moon, though now it was not so crushing or compelling: 
the menace was more remote. But menace it was. Frodo felt it too. His 
thought was broken. He stirred and shivered, but he did not look up. Gollum 
huddled himself together like a cornered spider. The winged shapes wheeled, 
and stooped swiftly down, speeding back to Mordor. 

Sam took a deep breath. 'The Riders are about again, up in the air,' he 
said in a hoarse whisper. 'I saw them. Do you think they could see us? They 
were very high up. And if they are Black Riders same as before, then they 
can’t see much by daylight, can they? ' 

'No, perhaps not,' said Frodo. 'But their steeds could see. And these 
winged creatures that they ride on now, they can probably see more than any 
other creature. They are like great carrion birds. They are looking for 
something: the Enemy is on the watch, I fear.’ 

The feeling of dread passed, but the enfolding silence was broken. For 
some time they had been cut off from the world, as if in an invisible 
island; now they were laid bare again, peril had returned. But still Frodo 
did not speak to Gollum or make his choice. His eyes were closed, as if he 
were dreaming, or looking inward into his heart and memory. At last he 
stirred and stood up, and it seemed that he was about to speak and to 
decide. But 'hark!' he said. 'What is that?’ 

A new fear was upon them. They heard singing and hoarse shouting. At 
first it seemed a long way off, but it drew nearer: it was coming towards 
them. It leaped into all their minds that the Black Wings had spied them and 
had sent armed soldiers to seize them: no speed seemed too great for these 
terrible servants of Sauron. They crouched, listening. The voices and the 
clink of weapons and harness were very close. Frodo and Sam loosened their 
small swords in their sheaths. Flight was impossible. 

Gollum rose slowly and crawled insect-like to the lip of the hollow. 

Very cautiously he raised himself inch by inch, until he could peer over it 
between two broken points of stone. He remained there without moving for 
some time, making no sound. Presently the voices began to recede again, and 
then they slowly faded away. Far off a horn blew on the ramparts of the 
Morannon. Then quietly Gollum drew back and slipped down into the hollow. 

’More Men going to Mordor,’ he said in a low voice. 'Dark faces. We 
have not seen Men like these before, no, Smjagol has not. They are fierce. 
They have black eyes, and long black hair, and gold rings in their ears; 
yes, lots of beautiful gold. And some have red paint on their cheeks, and 




red cloaks; and their flags are red, and the tips of their spears; and they 
have round shields, yellow and black with big spikes. Not nice; very cruel 
wicked Men they look. Almost as bad as Ores, and much bigger. Smjagol 
thinks 

they have come out of the South beyond the Great River's end: they came up 
that road. They have passed on to the Black Gate; but more may follow. 
Always more people coming to Mordor. One day all the peoples will be 
inside.' 

'Were there any oliphaunts?' asked Sam, forgetting his fear in his 
eagerness for news of strange places. 

'No, no oliphaunts. What are oliphaunts? ’ said Gollum. 

Sam stood up, putting his hands behind his back (as he always did when 
'speaking poetry'), and began: 

Grey as a mouse, 

Big as a house. 

Nose like a snake, 

I make the earth shake, 

As I tramp through the grass; 

Trees crack as I pass. 

With horns in my mouth 
I walk in the South, 

Flapping big ears. 

Beyond count of years 
I stump round and round, 

Never lie on the ground, 

Not even to die. 

Oliphaunt am I, 

Biggest of all, 

Huge, old, and tall. 

If ever you'd met me 
You wouldn 't forget me. 

If you never do, 

You won't think I'm true; 

But old Oliphaunt am I, 

And I never lie. 

'That,' said Sam, when he had finished reciting, 'that's a rhyme we 
have in the Shire. Nonsense maybe, and maybe not. But we have our tales too, 




and news out of the South, you know. In the old days hobbits used to go on 
their travels now and again. Not that many ever came back, and not that all 
they said was believed: news from Bree , and not sure as Shiretalk, as the 
sayings go. But I've heard tales of the big folk down away in the Sunlands. 
Swertings we call ’em in our tales; and they ride on oliphaunts, 'tis said, 
when they fight. They put houses and towers on the oliphauntses backs and 
all, and the oliphaunts throw rocks and trees at one another. So when you 
said "Men out of the South, all in red and gold;" I said "were there any 
oliphaunts? " For if there was, I was going to take a look, risk or no. But 
now I don't suppose I'll ever see an oliphaunt. Maybe there ain't no such a 
beast.' He sighed. 

'No, no oliphaunts,' said Gollum again. 'Smjagol has not heard of them. 

He does not want to see them. He does not want them to be. Smjagol wants to 
go away from here and hide somewhere safer. Smjagol wants master to go. 
Nice 

master, won't he come with Smjagol? ' 

Frodo stood up. He had laughed in the midst of all his cares when Sam 
trotted out the old fireside rhyme of Oliphaunt , and the laugh had released 
him from hesitation. 'I wish we had a thousand oliphaunts with Gandalf on a 
white one at their head,' he said. 'Then we'd break a way into this evil 
land, perhaps. But we've not; just our own tired legs, that's all. Well, 
Smjagol, the third turn may turn the best. I will come with you.' 

'Good master, wise master, nice master!' cried Gollum in delight, 
patting Frodo's knees. 'Good master! Then rest now, nice hobbits, under the 
shadow of the stones, close under the stones ! Rest and lie quiet, till the 
Yellow Face goes away. Then we can go quickly. Soft and quick as shadows 
we 

must be!’ 




Chapter 4 . Of Herbs and Stewed Rabbit 



For the few hours of daylight that were left they rested, shifting into 
the shade as the sun moved, until at last the shadow of the western rim of 
their dell grew long, and darkness filled all the hollow. Then they ate a 
little, and drank sparingly. Gollum ate nothing, but he accepted water 
gladly. 

'Soon get more now,' he said, licking his lips. 'Good water runs down 
in streams to the Great River, nice water in the lands we are going to. 
Smjagol will get food there too, perhaps. He's very hungry, yes, gollumV He 
set his two large flat hands on his shrunken belly, and a pale green light 
came into his eyes. 

The dusk was deep when at length they set out, creeping over the 
westward rim of the dell, and fading like ghosts into the broken country on 
the borders of the road: The moon was now three nights from the full, but it 
did not climb over the mountains until nearly midnight, and the early night 
was very dark. A single red light burned high up in the Towers of the Teeth, 
but otherwise no sign could be seen or heard of the sleepless watch on the 
Morannon. 

For many miles the red eye seemed to stare at them as they fled, 
stumbling through a barren stony country. They did not dare to take the 
road, but they kept it on their left, following its line as well as they 
could at a little distance. At last, when night was growing old and they 
were already weary, for they had taken only one short rest, the eye dwindled 
to a small fiery point and then vanished: they had turned the dark northern 
shoulder of the lower mountains and were heading southwards. 

With hearts strangely lightened they now rested again, but not for 
long. They were not going quick enough for Gollum. By his reckoning it was 
nearly thirty leagues from the Morannon to the cross-roads above Osgiliath, 
and he hoped to cover that distance in four journeys. So soon they struggled 
on once more, until the dawn began to spread slowly in the wide grey 
solitude. They had then walked almost eight leagues; and the hobbits could 
not have gone any further, even if they had dared. 

The growing light revealed to them a land already, less barren and 
ruinous. The mountains still loomed up ominously on their left, but near at 
hand they could see the southward road, now bearing away from the black 




roots of the hills and slanting westwards. Beyond it were slopes covered 
with sombre trees like dark clouds, but all about them lay a tumbled 
heathland, grown with ling and broom and cornel, and other shrubs that they 
did not know. Here and there they saw knots of tall pine-trees. The hearts 
of the hobbits rose again a little in spite of weariness: the air was fresh 
and fragrant, and it reminded them of the uplands of the Northfarthing far 
away. It seemed good to be reprieved, to walk in a land that had only been 
for a few years under the dominion of the Dark Lord and was not yet fallen 
wholly into decay. But they did not forget their danger, nor the Black Gate 
that was still all too near, hidden though it was behind the gloomy heights. 
They looked about for a hiding-place where they could shelter from evil eyes 
while the light lasted. 

The day passed uneasily. They lay deep in the heather and counted out 
the slow hours, in which there seemed little change; for they were still 
under the shadows of the Ephel D®ath, and the sun was veiled. Frodo slept at 
times, deeply and peacefully, either trusting Gollum or too tired to trouble 
about him; but Sam found it difficult to do more than doze, even when Gollum 
was plainly fast asleep, whiffling and twitching in his secret dreams. 
Hunger, perhaps, more than mistrust kept him wakeful: he had begun to long 
for a good homely meal, 'something hot out of the pot'. 

As soon as the land faded into a formless grey under coming night, they 
started out again. In a little while Gollum led them down on to the 
southward road; and after that they went on more quickly, though the danger 
was greater. Their ears were strained for the sound of hoof or foot on the 
road ahead, or following them from behind; but the night passed, and they 
heard no sound of walker or rider. 

The road had been made in a long lost time: and for perhaps thirty 
miles below the Morannon it had been newly repaired, but as it went south 
the wild encroached upon it. The handiwork of Men of old could still be seen 
in its straight sure flight and level course: now and again it cut its way 
through hillside slopes, or leaped over a stream upon a wide shapely arch of 
enduring masonry; but at last all signs of stonework faded, save for a 
broken pillar here and there, peering out of bushes at the side, or old 
paving-stones still lurking amid weeds and moss. Heather and trees and 
bracken scrambled down and overhung the banks, or sprawled out over the 
surface. It dwindled at last to a country cart-road little used; but it did 
not wind: it held on its own sure course and guided them by the swiftest 




way. 

So they passed into the northern marches of that land that Men once 
called Ithilien, a fair country of climbing woods and swift -falling streams. 

The night became fine under star and round moon, and it seemed to the 
hobbits that the fragrance of the air grew as they went forward; and from 
the blowing and muttering of Gollum it seemed that he noticed it too, and 
did not relish it. At the first signs of day they halted again. They had 
come to the end of a long cutting, deep, and sheer-sided in the middle, by 
which the road clove its way through a stony ridge. Now they climbed up the 
westward bank and looked abroad. 

Day was opening in the sky, and they saw that the mountains were now 
much further off, receding eastward in a long curve that was lost in the 
distance. Before them, as they turned west, gentle slopes ran down into dim 
hazes far below. All about them were small woods of resinous trees, fir and 
cedar and cypress, and other kinds unknown in the Shire, with wide glades 
among them; and everywhere there was a wealth of sweet-smelling herbs and 
shrubs. The long journey from Rivendell had brought them far south of their 
own land, but not until now in this more sheltered region had the hobbits 
felt the change of clime. Here Spring was already busy about them: fronds 
pierced moss and mould, larches were green-fingered, small flowers were 
opening in the turf, birds were singing. Ithilien, the garden of Gondor now 
desolate kept still a dishevelled dryad loveliness. 

South and west it looked towards the warm lower vales of Anduin, 
shielded from the east by the Ephel D®ath and yet not under the 
mountain-shadow, protected from the north by the Emyn Muil, open to the 
southern airs and the moist winds from the Sea far away. Many great trees 
grew there, planted long ago, falling into untended age amid a riot of 
careless descendants; and groves and thickets there were of tamarisk and 
pungent terebinth, of olive and of bay; and there were junipers and myrtles; 
and thymes that grew in bushes, or with their woody creeping stems mantled 
in deep tapestries the hidden stones; sages of many kinds putting forth blue 
flowers, or red, or pale green; and marjorams and new-sprouting parsleys, 
and many herbs of forms and scents beyond the garden-lore of Sam. The grots 
and rocky walls were already starred with saxifrages and stonecrops. 
Primeroles and anemones were awake in the filbert -brakes; and asphodel and 
many lily -flowers nodded their half-opened heads in the grass: deep green 
grass beside the pools, where falling streams halted in cool hollows on 




their journey down to Anduin. 

The travellers turned their backs on the road and went downhill. As 
they walked, brushing their way through bush and herb, sweet odours rose 
about them. Gollum coughed and retched; but the hobbits breathed deep, and 
suddenly Sam laughed, for heart's ease not for jest. They followed a stream 
that went quickly down before them. Presently it brought them to a small 
clear lake in a shallow dell: it lay in the broken ruins of an ancient stone 
basin, the carven rim of which was almost wholly covered with mosses and 
rose-brambles; iris-swords stood in ranks about it. and water-lily leaves 
floated on its dark gently-rippling surface; but it was deep and fresh, and 
spilled ever softly out over a stony lip at the far end. 

Here they washed themselves and drank their fill at the in-falling 
freshet. Then they sought for a resting-place, and a hiding-place: for this 
land, fair-seeming still, was nonetheless now territory of the Enemy. They 
had not come very far from the road, and yet even in so short a space they 
had seen scars of the old wars, and the newer wounds made by the Ores and 
other foul servants of the Dark Lord: a pit of uncovered filth and refuse; 
trees hewn down wantonly and left to die, with evil runes or the fell sign 
of the Eye cut in rude strokes on their bark. 

Sam scrambling below the outfall of the lake, smelling and touching the 
unfamiliar plants and trees, forgetful for the moment of Mordor, was 
reminded suddenly of their ever-present peril. He stumbled on a ring still 
scorched by fire, and in the midst of it he found a pile of charred and 
broken bones and skulls. The swift growth of the wild with briar and 
eglantine and trailing clematis was already drawing a veil over this place 
of dreadful feast and slaughter; but it was not ancient. He hurried back to 
his companions, but he said nothing: the bones were best left in peace and 
not pawed and routed by Gollum. 

'Let's find a place to lie up in,' he said. 'Not lower down. Higher up 
for me.' 

A little way back above the lake they found a deep brown bed of last 
year's fern. Beyond it was a thicket of dark -leaved bay-trees climbing up a 
steep bank that was crowned with old cedars. Here they decided to rest and 
pass the day, which already promised to be bright and warm. A good day for 
strolling on their way along the groves and glades of Ithilien; but though 
Ores may shun the sunlight, there were too many places here where they could 
lie hid and watch; and other evil eyes were abroad: Sauron had many 




servants. Gollum, in any case, would not move under the Yellow. Face. Soon 
it would look over the dark ridges of the Ephel D®ath, and he would faint 
and cower in the light and heat. 

Sam had been giving earnest thought to food as they marched. Now that 
the despair of the impassable Gate was behind him, he did not feel so 
inclined as his master to take no thought for their livelihood beyond the 
end of their errand; and anyway it seemed wiser to him to save the waybread 
of the Elves for worse times ahead. Six days or more had passed since he 
reckoned that they had only a bare supply for three weeks. 

'If we reach the Fire in that time, we'll be lucky at this rate ! ' he 
thought. 'And we might be wanting to get back. We might! ' 

Besides, at the end of a long night-march, and after bathing and 
drinking, he felt even more hungry than usual. A supper, or a breakfast, by 
the fire in the old kitchen at Bagshot Row was what he really wanted. An 
idea struck him and he turned to Gollum. Gollum had just begun to sneak off 
on his own, and he was crawling away on all fours through the fern. 

'Hi! Gollum! ' said Sam. 'Where are you going? Hunting? Well see here, 
old noser, you don't like our food, and I'd not be sorry for a change 
myself. Your new motto's always ready to help. Could you find anything fit 
for a hungry hobbit? ' 

'Yes, perhaps, yes,’ said Gollum. 'Smjagol always helps, if they asks 
— if they asks nicely.' 

'Right!' said Sam 'I does ask. And if that isn't nice enough, I begs.' 

Gollum disappeared. He was away some time, and Frodo after a few 
mouthfuls of lembas settled deep into the brown fern and went to sleep. Sam 
looked at him. The early daylight was only just creeping down into the 
shadows under the trees, but he saw his master's face very clearly, and his 
hands, too, lying at rest on the ground beside him. He was reminded suddenly 
of Frodo as he had lain, asleep in the house of Elrond, after his deadly 
wound. Then as he had kept watch Sam had noticed that at times a light 
seemed to be shining faintly within; but now the light was even clearer and 
stronger. Frodo's face was peaceful, the marks of fear and care had left it; 
but it looked old, old and beautiful, as if the chiselling of the shaping 
years was now revealed in many fine lines that had before been hidden, 
though the identity of the face was not changed. Not that Sam Gamgee put it 
that way to himself. He shook his head, as if finding words useless, and 
murmured: 'I love him. He's like that, and sometimes it shines through, 




somehow. But I love him, whether or no.' 

Gollum returned quietly and peered over Sam's shoulder. Looking at 
Frodo, he shut his eyes and crawled away without a sound. Sam came to him 
moment later and found him chewing something and muttering to himself. 
On 

the ground beside him lay two small rabbits, which he was beginning to eye 
greedily. 

’Smjagol always helps,’ he said. 'He has brought rabbits, nice rabbits. 

But master has gone to sleep, and perhaps Sam wants to sleep. Doesn't want 
rabbits now? Smjagol tries to help, but he can't catch things all in a 
minute.' 

Sam, however, had no objection to rabbit at all, and said so. At least 
not to cooked rabbit. All hobbits, of course, can cook, for they begin to 
learn the art before their letters (which many never reach): but Sam was a 
good cook, even by hobbit reckoning, and he had done a good deal of the 
camp-cooking on their travels, when there was a chance. He still hopefully 
carried some of his gear in his pack: a small tinder-box, two small shallow 
pans, the smaller fitting into the larger; inside them a wooden spoon, a 
short two-pronged fork and some skewers were stowed; and hidden at the 
bottom of the pack in a flat wooden box a dwindling treasure, some salt. But 
he needed a fire, and other things besides. He thought for a bit, while he 
took out his knife, cleaned and whetted it, and began to dress the rabbits. 

He was not going to leave Frodo alone asleep even for a few minutes. 

'Now, Gollum,' he said, 'I've another job for you. Go and fill these 
pans with water, and bring 'em back! ' 

'Smjagol will fetch water, yes,' said Gollum. 'But what does the hobbit 
want all that water for? He has drunk, he has washed.' 

'Never you mind,' said Sam. 'If you can't guess, you'll soon find out. 

And the sooner you fetch the water, the sooner you'll learn. Don't you 
damage one of my pans, or I'll carve you into mincemeat.' 

While Gollum was away Sam took another look at Frodo. He was still 
sleeping quietly, but Sam was now struck most by the leanness of his face 
and hands. 'Too thin and drawn he is,' he muttered. 'Not right for a hobbit. 

If I can get these coneys cooked, I'm going to wake him up.' 

Sam gathered a pile of the driest fern, and then scrambled up the bank 
collecting a bundle of twigs and broken wood; the fallen branch of a cedar 
at the top gave him a good supply. He cut out some turves at the foot of the 




bank just outside the fern-brake, and made a shallow hole and laid his fuel 
in it. Being handy with flint and tinder he soon had a small blaze going. It 
made little or no smoke but gave off an aromatic scent. He was just stooping 
over his fire, shielding it and building it up with heavier wood, when 
Gollum returned, carrying the pans carefully and grumbling to himself. 

He set the pans down, and then suddenly saw what Sam was doing. He gave 
a thin hissing shriek, and seemed to be both frightened and angry. 'Ach! Sss 
— no!' he cried. 'No! Silly hobbits, foolish, yes foolish! They mustn't do 
it!’ 

'Mustn't do what?' asked Sam in surprise. 

'Not make the nassty red tongues,' hissed Gollum. 'Fire, fire! It's 
dangerous, yes it is. It burns, it kills. And it will bring enemies, yes it 
will.' 

'I don't think so,' said Sam. 'Don't see why it should, if you don't 
put wet stuff on it and make a smother. But if it does, it does. I'm going 
to risk it, anyhow. I'm going to stew these coneys.' 

'Stew the rabbits!' squealed Gollum in dismay. 'Spoil beautiful meat 
Smjagol saved for you, poor hungry Smjagol! What for? What for, silly 
hobbit? They are young, they are tender, they are nice. Eat them, eat them!’ 

He clawed at the nearest rabbit, already skinned and lying by the fire. 

'Now, now! ' said Sam. 'Each to his own fashion. Our bread chokes you, 
and raw coney chokes me. If you give me a coney, the coney's mine, see, to 
cook, if I have a mind. And I have. You needn't watch me. Go and catch 
another and eat it as you fancy — somewhere private and out o' my sight. 
Then you won't see the fire, and I shan't see you, and we'll both be the 
happier. I'll see the fire don't smoke, if that's any comfort to you.' 

Gollum withdrew grumbling, and crawled into the fern. Sam busied 
himself with his pans. 'What a hobbit needs with coney,' he said to himself, 

'is some herbs and roots, especially taters — not to mention bread. Herbs 
we can manage, seemingly.’ 

'Gollum!' he called softly. 'Third time pays for all. I want some 
herbs.’ Gollum's head peeped out of the fern, but his looks were neither 
helpful nor friendly. 'A few bay-leaves, some thyme and sage, will do — 
before the water boils,' said Sam. 

'No! ' said Gollum. 'Smjagol is not pleased. And Smjagol doesn't like 
smelly leaves. He doesn't eat grasses or roots, no precious, not till he's 
starving or very sick, poor Smjagol. ' 




'Smjagol'll get into real true hot water, when this water boils, if he 
don’t do as he’s asked,’ growled Sam. 'Sam'llput his head in it, yes 
precious. And I’d make him look for turnips and carrots, and taters too, if 
it was the time o’ the year. I’ll bet there’s all sorts of good things 
running wild in this country. I’d give a lot for half a dozen taters.’ 

'Smjagol won’t go, O no precious, not this time,’ hissed Gollum. 'He’s 
frightened, and he’s very tired, and this hobbit's not nice, not nice at 
all. Smjagol won't grub for roots and carrotses and — taters. What's 
taters, precious, eh, what's taters? 

'Po-ta-toes,' said Sam. 'The Gaffer’s delight, and rare good ballast 
for an empty belly. But you won't find any, so you needn't look. But be good 
Smjagol and fetch me the herbs, and I'll think better of you. What's more, 
if you turn over a new leaf, and keep it turned, I'll cook you some taters 
one of these days. I will: fried fish and chips served by S. Gamgee. You 
couldn't say no to that.' 

'Yes, yes we could. Spoiling nice fish, scorching it. Give me fish now, 
and keep nassty chips ! ' 

'Oh you're hopeless,' said Sam. 'Go to sleep!' 

In the end he had to find what he wanted for himself; but he did not 
have to go far, not out of sight of the place where his master lay, still 
sleeping. For a while Sam sat musing, and tending the fire till the water 
boiled. The daylight grew and the air became warm; the dew faded off turf 
and leaf. Soon the rabbits cut up lay simmering in their pans with the 
bunched herbs. Almost Sam fell asleep as the time went by. He let them stew 
for close on an hour, testing them now and again with his fork, and tasting 
the broth. 

When he thought all was ready he lifted the pans off the fire, and 
crept along to Frodo. Frodo half opened his eyes as Sam stood over him, and 
then he wakened from his dreaming: another gentle, unrecoverable dream of 
peace. 

'Hullo, Sam! ’ he said. 'Not resting? Is anything wrong? What is the 
time? ’ 

'About a couple of hours after daybreak,’ said Sam, 'and nigh on half 
past eight by Shire clocks, maybe. But nothing's wrong. Though it ain't 
quite what I'd call right: no stock, no onions, no taters. I've got a bit of 
a stew for you, and some broth, Mr. Frodo. Do you good. You'll have to sup 
it in your mug; or straight from the pan, when it's cooled a bit. I haven't 




brought no bowls, nor nothing proper.' 

Frodo yawned and stretched. 'You should have been resting Sam,' he 
said. 'And lighting a fire was dangerous in these parts. But I do feel 
hungry. Hmm! Can I smell it from here? What have you stewed? ' 

'A present from Smjagol,' said Sam: 'a brace o' young coneys; though I 
fancy Gollum's regretting them now. But there's nought to go with them but a 
few herbs.' 

Sam and his master sat just within the fern-brake and ate their stew 
from the pans, sharing the old fork and spoon. They allowed themselves half 
a piece of the Elvish waybread each. It seemed a feast. 

'Wheew! Gollum! ' Sam called and whistled softly. 'Come on! Still time 
to change your mind. There's some left, if you want to try stewed coney.' 
There was no answer. 

'Oh well, I suppose he's gone off to find something for himself. We'll 
finish it,' said Sam. 

'And then you must take some sleep,' said Frodo. 

'Don't you drop off, while I'm nodding, Mr. Frodo. I don't feel too 
sure of him. There's a good deal of Stinker -the bad Gollum, if you 
understand me-in him still, and it's getting stronger again. Not but what I 
think he'd try to throttle me first now. We don't see eye to eye, and he's 
not pleased with Sam, O no precious, not pleased at all.' 

They finished, and Sam went off to the stream to rinse his gear. As he 
stood up to return, he looked back up the slope. At that moment he saw the 
sun rise out of the reek, or haze, or dark shadow, or whatever it was, that 
lay ever to the east, and it sent its golden beams down upon the trees and 
glades about him. Then he noticed a thin spiral of blue-grey, smoke, plain 
to see as it caught the sunlight, rising from a thicket above him. With a 
shock he realized that this was the smoke from his little cooking-fire, 
which he had neglected to put out. 

'That won't do! Never thought it would show like that! ' he muttered, 
and he started to hurry back. Suddenly he halted and listened. Flad he heard 
a whistle or not? Or was it the call of some strange bird? If it was a 
whistle, it did not come from Frodo's direction. There it went again from 
another place! Sam began to run as well as he could uphill. 

He found that a small brand, burning away to its outer end, had kindled 
some fern at the edge of the fire, and the fern blazing up had set the 
turves smouldering. Hastily he stamped out what was left of the fire, 




scattered the ashes, and laid the turves on the hole. Then he crept back to 
Frodo. 

'Did you hear a whistle, and what sounded like an answer? ' he asked. 

'A few minutes back. I hope it was only a bird, but it didn’t sound quite 
like that: more like somebody mimicking a bird-call, I thought. And I'm 
afraid my bit of fire's been smoking. Now if I've gone and brought trouble, 

I'll never forgive myself. Nor won't have a chance, maybe! ' 

'Hush! ' whispered Frodo. 'I thought I heard voices.’ 

The two hobbits trussed their small packs, put them on ready for 
flight, and then crawled deeper into the fern. There they crouched 
listening. 

There was no doubt of the voices. They were speaking low and furtively, 
but they were near, and coming nearer. Then quite suddenly one spoke clearly 
close at hand. 

'Here! Here is where the smoke came from! ' it said. 'Twill be nigh at 
hand. In the fern, no doubt. We shall have it like a coney in a trap. Then 
we shall learn what kind of thing it is.' 

'Aye, and what it knows! ' said a second voice. 

At once four men came striding through the fern from different 
directions. Since flight and hiding were no longer possible, Frodo and Sam 
sprang to their feet, putting back to back and whipping out their small 
swords. 

If they were astonished at what they saw, their captors were even more 
astonished. Four tall Men stood there. Two had spears in their hands with 
broad bright heads. Two had great bows, almost of their own height, and 
great quivers of long green -feathered arrows. All had swords at their sides, 
and were clad in green and brown of varied hues, as if the better to walk 
unseen in the glades of Ithilien. Green gauntlets covered their hands, and 
their faces were hooded and masked with green, except for their eyes, which 
were very keen and bright. At once Frodo thought of Boromir, for these Men 
were like him in stature and bearing, and in their manner of speech. 

'We have not found what we sought,’ said one. 'But what have we found? 

f 

'Not Ores,' said another, releasing the hilt of his sword, which he had 
seized when he saw the glitter of Sting in Frodo's hand. 

'Elves? ’ said a third, doubtfully. 

'Nay! Not Elves,' said the fourth, the tallest, and as it appeared the 




chief among them. 'Elves do not walk in Ithilien in these days. And Elves 
are wondrous fair to look upon, or so ’tis said.' 

’Meaning we're not, I take you,' said Sam. 'Thank you kindly. And when 
you've finished discussing us, perhaps you'll say who you are, and why you 
can't let two tired travellers rest.' 

The tall green man laughed grimly. 'I am Faramir, Captain of Gondor,' 
he said. 'But there are no travellers in this land: only the servants of the 
Dark Tower, or of the White.' 

'But we are neither,’ said Frodo. 'And travellers we are, whatever 
Captain Faramir may say.' 

'Then make haste to declare yourselves and your errand,' said Faramir. 

'We have a work to do, and this is no time or place for riddling or 
parleying. Come! Where is the third of your company? ' 

'The third? ’ 

'Yes, the skulking fellow that we saw with his nose in the pool down 
yonder. He had an ill-favoured look. Some spying breed of Ore, I guess, or a 
creature of theirs. But he gave us the slip by some fox-trick.' 

'I do not know where he is,' said Frodo. 'He is only a chance companion 
met upon our road; and I am not answerable for him. If you come on him, 
spare him. Bring him or send him to us. He is only a wretched gangrel 
creature, but I have him under my care for a while. But as for us, we are 
Hobbits of the Shire, far to the North and West, beyond many rivers. Frodo 
son of Drogo is my name, and with me is Samwise son of Hamfast, a worthy 
hobbit in my service. We have come by long ways — out of Rivendell, or 
Imladris as some call it.' Here Faramir started and grew intent. 'Seven 
companions we had: one we lost at Moria, the others we left at Parth Galen 
above Rauros: two of my kin; a Dwarf there was also, and an Elf, and two 
Men. They were Aragorn; and Boromir, who said that he came out of Minas 
Tirith, a city in the South.' 

'Boromir! ' all the four men exclaimed. 

'Boromir son of the Ford Denethor?' said Faramir, and a strange stern 
look came into his face. 'You came with him? That is news indeed, if it be 
true. Know, little strangers, that Boromir son of Denethor was High Warden 
of the White Tower, and our Captain-General: sorely do we miss him. Who are 
you then, and what had you to do with him? Be swift, for the Sun is 
climbing!' 

'Are the riddling words known to you that Boromir brought to Rivendell? 




’ Frodo replied. 

Seek for the Sword that was Broken. 

In Imladris it dwells. 

'The words are known indeed,' said Faramir in astonishment. v It is some 
token of your truth that you also know them.' 

'Aragorn whom I named is the bearer of the Sword that was Broken,' said 
Frodo. 'And we are the Halflings that the rhyme spoke of.' 

'That I see,' said Faramir thoughtfully. 'Or I see that it might be so. 

And what is Isildur's Bane? ' 

'That is hidden,' answered Frodo. 'Doubtless it will be made clear in 
time.’ 

'We must learn more of this,’ said Faramir, 'and know what brings you 
so far east under the shadow of yonder—,' he pointed and said no name. 'But 
not now. We have business in hand. You are in peril, and you would not have 
gone far by field or road this day. There will be hard handstrokes nigh at 
hand ere the day is full. Then death, or swift flight bark to Anduin. I will 
leave two to guard you, for your good and for mine. Wise man trusts not to 
chance-meeting on the road in this land. If I return, I will speak more with 
you.' 

'Farewell!' said Frodo, bowing low. 'Think what you will, I am a friend 
of all enemies of the One Enemy. We would go with you, if we halfling folk 
could hope to serve you, such doughty men and strong as you seem, and if my 
errand permitted it. May the light shine on your swords!' 

'The Halflings are courteous folk, whatever else they be,' said 
Faramir. 'Farewell!' 

The hobbits sat down again, but they said nothing to one another of 
their thoughts and doubts. Close by, just under the dappling shadow of the 
dark bay-trees, two men remained on guard. They took off their masks now and 
again to cool them, as the day-heat grew, and Frodo saw that they were 
goodly men, pale-skinned, dark of hair, with grey eyes and faces sad and 
proud. They spoke together in soft voices, at first using the Common Speech, 
but after the manner of older days, and then changing to another language of 
their own. To his amazement, as he listened Frodo became aware that it was 
the Elven-tongue that they spoke, or one but little different; and he looked 
at them with wonder, for he knew then that they must be D®nedain of the 
South, men of the line of the Lords of Westernesse. 

After a while he spoke to them; but they were slow and cautious in 




answering. They named themselves Mablung and Damrod, soldiers of Gondor, 
and 

they were Rangers of Ithilien; for they were descended from folk who lived 
in Ithilien at one time, before it was overrun. From such men the Lord 
Denethor chose his forayers, who crossed the Anduin secretly (how or where, 
they would not say) to harry the Ores and other enemies that roamed between 
the Ephel D®ath and the River. 

'It is close on ten leagues hence to the east-shore of Anduin,' said 
Mablung, ’and we seldom come so far afield. But we have a new errand on this 
journey: we come to ambush the Men of Harad. Curse them! ' 

'Aye, curse the Southrons! ' said Damrod. ' 'Tis said that there were 
dealings of old between Gondor and the kingdoms of the Harad in the Far 
South; though there was never friendship. In those days our bounds were away 
south beyond the mouths of Anduin, and Umbar, the nearest of their realms, 
acknowledged our sway. But that is long since. 'Tis many lives of Men since 
any passed to or fro between us. Now of late we have learned that the Enemy 
has been among them, and they are gone over to Him, or back to Him-they 
were 

ever ready to His will -as have so many also in the East. I doubt not that 
the days of Gondor are numbered, and the walls of Minas Tirith are doomed, 
so great is His strength and malice.' 

'But still we will not sit idle and let Him do all as He would,' said 
Mablung. 'These cursed Southrons come now marching up the ancient roads 
to 

swell the hosts of the Dark Tower. Yea, up the very roads that craft of 
Gondor made. And they go ever more heedlessly, we learn, thinking that the 
power of their new master is great enough, so that the mere shadow of His 
hills will protect them. We come to teach them another lesson. Great 
strength of them was reported to us some days ago, marching north. One of 
their regiments is due by our reckoning to pass by, some time ere noon-up on 
the road above, where it passes through the cloven way. The road may pass, 
but they shall not! Not while Faramir is Captain. He leads now in all 
perilous ventures. But his life is charmed, or fate spares him for some 
other end.' 

Their talk died down into a listening silence. All seemed still and 
watchful. Sam, crouched by the edge of the fern-brake, peered out. With his 




keen hobbit-eyes he saw that many more Men were about. He could see 
them 

stealing up the slopes, singly or in long files, keeping always to the shade 
of grove or thicket, or crawling, hardly visible in their brown and green 
raiment, through grass and brake. All were hooded and masked, and had 
gauntlets on their hands, and were armed like Faramir and his companions. 
Before long they had all passed and vanished. The sun rose till it neared 
the South. The shadows shrank. 

'I wonder where that dratted Gollum is? ' thought Sam, as he crawled 
back into deeper shade. 'He stands a fair chance of being spitted for an 
Ore, or of being roasted by the Yellow Face. But I fancy he’ll look after 
himself.' He lay down beside Frodo and began to doze. 

He woke, thinking that he had heard horns blowing. He sat up. It was 
now high noon. The guards stood alert and tense in the shadow of the trees. 
Suddenly the horns rang out louder and beyond mistake from above, over the 
top of the slope. Sam thought that he heard cries and wild shouting also, 
but the sound was faint, as if it came out of some distant cave. Then 
presently the noise of fighting broke out near at hand, just above their 
hiding-place. He could hear plainly the ringing grate of steel on steel, the 
clang of sword on iron cap, the dull beat of blade on shield; men were 
yelling and screaming, and one clear loud voice was calling Gondorl Gondorl 

'It sounds like a hundred blacksmiths all smithying together,’ said Sam 
to Frodo. ’They’re as near as I want them now.’ 

But the noise grew closer. 'They are coming!’ cried Damrod. 'See! Some 
of the Southrons have broken from the trap and are flying from the road. 
There they go! Our men after them, and the Captain leading.’ 

Sam, eager to see more, went now and joined the guards. He scrambled a 
little way up into one of the larger of the bay-trees. For a moment he 
caught a glimpse of swarthy men in red running down the slope some way off 
with green-clad warriors leaping after them, hewing them down as they fled. 
Arrows were thick in the air. Then suddenly straight over the rim of their 
sheltering bank, a man fell, crashing through the slender trees, nearly on 
top of them. He came to rest in the fern a few feet away, face downward, 
green arrow-feathers sticking from his neck below a golden collar. His 
scarlet robes were tattered, his corslet of overlapping brazen plates was 
rent and hewn, his black plaits of hair braided with gold were drenched with 
blood. His brown hand still clutched the hilt of a broken sword. 




It was Sam's first view of a battle of Men against Men, and he did not 
like it much. He was glad that he could not see the dead face. He wondered 
what the man's name was and where he came from; and if he was really evil of 
heart, or what lies or threats had led him on the long march from his home; 
and if he would not really rather have stayed there in peace -all in a flash 
of thought which was quickly driven from his mind. For just as Mablung 
stepped towards the fallen body, there was a new noise. Great crying and 
shouting. Amidst it Sam heard a shrill bellowing or trumpeting. And then a 
great thudding and bumping, like huge rams dinning on the ground. 

'Ware! Ware!' cried Damrod to his companion. 'May the Valar turn him 
aside! Mymak! Mymak!' 

To his astonishment and terror, and lasting delight, Sam saw a vast 
shape crash out of the trees and come careering down the slope. Big as a 
house, much bigger than a house, it looked to him, a grey-clad moving hill. 
Fear and wonder, maybe, enlarged him in the hobbit's eyes, but the Mymak of 
Harad was indeed a beast of vast bulk, and the like of him does not walk now 
in Middle-earth; his kin that live still in latter days are but memories of 
his girth and majesty. On he came, straight towards the watchers, and then 
swerved aside in the nick of time, passing only a few yards away, rocking 
the ground beneath their feet: his great legs like trees, enormous sail-like 
ears spread out, long snout upraised like a huge serpent about to strike, 
his small red eyes raging. His upturned hornlike tusks were bound with bands 
of gold and dripped with blood. His trappings of scarlet and gold flapped 
about him in wild tatters. The ruins of what seemed a very war-tower lay 
upon his heaving back, smashed in his furious passage through the woods; and 
high upon his neck still desperately clung a tiny figure-the body of a 
mighty warrior, a giant among the Swertings. 

On the great beast thundered, blundering in blind wrath through pool 
and thicket. Arrows skipped and snapped harmlessly about the triple hide of 
his flanks. Men of both sides fled before him, but many he overtook and 
crushed to the ground. Soon he was lost to view, still trumpeting and 
stamping far away. What became of him Sam never heard: whether he escaped 
to 

roam the wild for a time, until he perished far from his home or was trapped 
in some deep pit; or whether he raged on until he plunged in the Great River 
and was swallowed up. 

Sam drew a deep breath. 'An Oliphaunt it was!' he said. 'So there are 




Oliphaunts, and I have seen one. What a life! But no one at home will ever 
believe me. Well, if that's over, I'll have a bit of sleep.' 

'Sleep while you may,' said Mablung. 'But the Captain will return, if 
he is unhurt; and when he comes we shall depart swiftly. We shall be pursued 
as soon as news of our deed reaches the Enemy, and that will not be long.' 

'Go quietly when you must!’ said Sam. 'No need to disturb my sleep. I 
was walking all night.' 

Mablung laughed. 'I do not think the Captain will leave you here, 
Master Samwise,’ he said. 'But you shall see.' 




Chapter 5 . The Window on the West 



It seemed to Sam that he had only dozed for a few minutes when he awoke 
to find that it was late afternoon and Faramir had come back. He had brought 
many men with him; indeed all the survivors of the foray were now gathered 
on the slope nearby, two or three hundred strong. They sat in a wide 
semicircle, between the arms of which Faramir was seated on the ground, 
while Frodo stood before him. It looked strangely like the trial of a 
prisoner. 

Sam crept out from the fern, but no one paid any attention to him, and 
he placed himself at the end of the rows of men, where he could see and hear 
all that was going on. He watched and listened intently, ready to dash to 
his master's aid if needed. He could see Faramir's face, which was now 
unmasked: it was stern and commanding, and a keen wit lay behind his 
searching glance. Doubt was in the grey eyes that gazed steadily at Frodo. 

Sam soon became aware that the Captain was not satisfied with Frodo's 
account of himself at several points: what part he had to play in the 
Company that set out from Rivendell; why he had left Boromir; and where he 
was now going. In particular he returned often to Isildur's Bane. Plainly he 
saw that Frodo was concealing from him some matter of great importance. 

'But it was at the coming of the Halfling that Isildur's Bane should 
waken, or so one must read the words,' he insisted. 'If then you are the 
Halfling that was named, doubtless you brought this thing, whatever it may 
be, to the Council of which you speak, and there Boromir saw it. Do you deny 
it? ' 

Frodo made no answer. 'So! ' said Faramir. V I wish then to learn from 
you more of it; for what concerns Boromir concerns me. An ore-arrow slew 
Isildur, so far as old tales tell. But ore-arrows are plenty, and the sight 
of one would not be taken as a sign of Doom by Boromir of Gondor. Had you 
this thing in keeping? It is hidden, you say; but is not that because you 
choose to hide it? ' 

'No, not because I choose,' answered Frodo. v It does not belong to me. 

It does not belong to any mortal, great or small; though if any could claim 
it, it would be Aragorn son of Arathorn, whom I named, the leader of our 
Company from Moria to Rauros.' 




'Why so, and not Boromir, prince of the City that the sons of Elendil 
founded? ' 

'Because Aragorn is descended in direct lineage, father to father, from 
Isildur Elendil's son himself. And the sword that he bears was Elendil's 
sword.' 

A murmur of astonishment ran through all the ring of men. Some cried 
aloud: 'The sword of Elendil! The sword of Elendil comes to Minas Tirith! 
Great tidings! ' But Faramir's face was unmoved. 

'Maybe,' he said. 'But so great a claim will need to be established and 
clear proofs will be required, should this Aragorn ever come to Minas 
Tirith. He had not come, nor any of your Company, when I set out six days 
ago.' 

'Boromir was satisfied of that claim,' said Frodo. 'Indeed, if Boromir 
were here, he would answer all your questions. And since he was already at 
Rauros many days back, and intended then to go straight to your city, if you 
return, you may soon learn the answers there. My part in the Company was 
known to him, as to all the others, for it was appointed to me by Elrond of 
Imladris himself before the whole Council. On that errand I came into this 
country, but it is not mine to reveal to any outside the Company. Yet those 
who claim to oppose the Enemy would do well not to hinder it.' 

Frodo's tone was proud, whatever he felt, and Sam approved of it; but 
it did not appease Faramir. 

'So!' he said. 'You bid me mind my own affairs, and get me back home, 
and let you be. Boromir will tell all, when he comes. When he comes, say 
you! Were you a friend of Boromir?’ 

Vividly before Frodo's mind came the memory of Boromir's assault upon 
him, and for a moment he hesitated. Faramir's eyes watching him grew harder. 
'Boromir was a valiant member of our Company ' said Frodo at length. 'Yes, I 
was his friend, for my part.' 

Faramir smiled grimly. 'Then you would grieve to learn that Boromir is 
dead? ' 

'I would grieve indeed,' said Frodo. Then catching the look in 
Faramir's eyes, he faltered. 'Dead?' he said. 'Do you mean that he is dead, 
and that you knew it? You have been trying to trap me in words, playing with 
me? Or are you now trying to snare me with a falsehood?' 

'I would not snare even an ore with a falsehood,' said Faramir. 

'How then did he die, and how do you know of it? Since you say that 




none of the Company had reached the city when you left.' 

'As to the manner of his death, I had hoped that his friend and 
companion would tell me how it was.' 

'But he was alive and strong when we parted. And he lives still for all 
that I know. Though surely there are many perils in the world.' 

'Many indeed,' said Faramir, 'and treachery not the least.’ 

Sam had been getting more and more impatient and angry at this 
conversation. These last words were more than he could bear, and bursting 
into the middle of the ring, he strode up to his master's side. 

'Begging your pardon, Mr. Frodo,' he said, 'but this has gone on long 
enough. Tie's no right to talk to you so. After all you've gone through, as 
much for his good and all these great Men as for anyone else. 

'See here, Captain! ' He planted himself squarely in front of Faramir 
his hands on his hips, and a look on his face as if he was addressing a 
young hobbit who had offered him what he called 'sauce' when questioned 
about visits to the orchard. There was some murmuring, but also some grins 
on the faces of the men looking on: the sight of their Captain sitting on 
the ground and eye to eye with a young hobbit, legs well apart, bristling 
with wrath, was one beyond their experience. 'See here! ’ he said. 'What are 
you driving at? Let's come to the point before all the Ores of Mordor come 
down on us! If you think my master murdered this Boromir and then ran away, 
you've got no sense; but say it, and have done! And then let us know what 
you mean to do about it. But it's a pity that folk as talk about fighting 
the Enemy can't let others do their bit in their own way without 
interfering. He'd be mighty pleased, if he could see you now. Think he'd got 
a new friend, he would.' 

'Patience!' said Faramir, but without anger. 'Do not speak before your 
master, whose wit is greater than yours. And I do not need any to teach me 
of our peril. Even so, I spare a brief time, in order to judge justly in a 
hard matter. Were I as hasty as you, I might have slain you long ago. For I 
am commanded to slay all whom I find in this land without the leave of the 
Lord of Gondor. But I do not slay man or beast needlessly, and not gladly 
even when it is needed. Neither do I talk in vain. So be comforted. Sit by 
your master, and be silent! ’ 

Sam sat down heavily with a red face. Faramir turned to Frodo again: 

'You asked how do I know that the son of Denethor is dead. Tidings of death 
have many wings. Night oft brings news to near kindred, 'tis said. Boromir 




was my brother.' 

A shadow of sorrow passed over his face. 'Do you remember aught of 
special mark that the Lord Boromir bore with him among his gear?' 

Frodo thought for a moment, fearing some further trap, and wondering 
how this debate would turn in the end. He had hardly saved the Ring from the 
proud grasp of Boromir, and how he would fare now among so many men, 
warlike 

and strong, he did not know. Yet he felt in his heart that Faramir, though 
he was much like his brother in looks, was a man less self-regarding, both 
sterner and wiser. 'I remember that Boromir bore a horn,' he said at last. 

'You remember well, and as one who has in truth seen him,' said 
Faramir. 'Then maybe you can see it in your mind's eye: a great horn of the 
wild ox of the East, bound with silver, and written with ancient characters. 

That horn the eldest son of our house has borne for many generations; and it 
is said that if it be blown at need anywhere within the bounds of Gondor, as 
the realm was of old, its voice will not pass unheeded. 

'Five days ere I set out on this venture, eleven days ago at about this 
hour of the day, I heard the blowing of that horn: from the northward it 
seemed, but dim, as if it were but an echo in the mind. A boding of ill we 
thought it, my father and I, for no tidings had we heard of Boromir since he 
went away, and no watcher on our borders had seen him pass. And on the third 
night after another and a stranger thing befell me. 

'I sat at night by the waters of Anduin, in the grey dark under the 
young pale moon, watching the ever -moving stream; and the sad reeds were 
rustling. So do we ever watch the shores nigh Osgiliath, which our enemies 
now partly hold, and issue from it to harry our lands. But that night all 
the world slept at the midnight hour. Then I saw, or it seemed that I saw, a 
boat floating on the water, glimmering grey, a small boat of a strange 
fashion with a high prow, and there was none to row or steer it. 

'An awe fell on me, for a pale light was round it. But I rose and went 
to the bank, and began to walk out into the stream, for I was drawn towards 
it. Then the boat turned towards me, and stayed its pace, and floated slowly 
by within my hand's reach, yet I durst not handle it. It waded deep, as if 
it were heavily burdened, and it seemed to me as it passed under my gaze 
that it was almost filled with clear water, from which came the light; and 
lapped in the water a warrior lay asleep. 

'A broken sword was on his knee. I saw many wounds on him. It was 




Boromir, my brother, dead. I knew his gear, his sword, his beloved face. One 
thing only I missed: his horn. One thing only I knew not: a fair belt, as it 
were of linked golden leaves, about his waist. Boromir! I cried. Where is 
thy horn? Whither goest thou? O Boromir! But he was gone. The boat turned 
into the stream and passed glimmering on into the night. Dreamlike it was. 
and yet no dream, for there was no waking. And I do not doubt that he is 
dead and has passed down the River to the Sea.' 

'Alas!' said Frodo. That was indeed Boromir as I knew him. For the 
golden belt was given to him in Lothlurien by the Lady Galadriel. She it was 
that clothed us as you see us, in elven-grey. This brooch is of the same 
workmanship.' Fie touched the green and silver leaf that fastened his cloak 
beneath his throat. 

Faramir looked closely at it. Tt is beautiful,' he said. 'Yes, 'tis 
work of the same craft. So then you passed through the Land of Lurien? 
Laurelindurenan it was named of old, but long now it has lain beyond the 
knowledge of Men,' he added softly, regarding Frodo with a new wonder in his 
eyes. 'Much that was strange about you I begin now to understand. Will you 
not tell me more? For it is a bitter thought that Boromir died, within sight 
of the land of his home.' 

'No more can I say than I have said,' answered Frodo. 'Though your tale 
fills me with foreboding. A vision it was that you saw, I think, and no 
more, some shadow of evil fortune that has been or will be. Unless indeed it 
is some lying trick of the Enemy. I have seen the faces of fair warriors of 
old laid in sleep beneath the pools of the Dead Marshes, or seeming so by 
his foul arts.’ 

'Nay, it was not so,' said Faramir. 'For his works fill the heart with 
loathing; but my heart was filled with grief and pity.' 

'Yet how could such a thing have happened in truth? ' asked Frodo. 'For 
no boat could have been carried over the stony hills from Tol Brandir; and 
Boromir purposed to go home across the Entwash and the fields of Rohan. 

And 

yet how could any vessel ride the foam of the great falls and not founder in 
the boiling pools, though laden with water? ' 

'I know not,' said Faramir. 'But whence came the boat? ' 

'From Lurien,' said Frodo. 'In three such boats we rowed down Anduin to 
the Falls. They also were of elven-work.' 

'You passed through the Hidden Land,' said Faramir, 'but it seems that 




you little understood its power. If Men have dealings with the Mistress of 
Magic who dwells in the Golden Wood, then they may look for strange things 
to follow. For it is perilous for mortal man to walk out of the world of 
this Sun, and few of old came thence unchanged, 'tis said. 

' Boromir , O Boromir!' he cried. "What did she say to you, the Lady that 
dies not? What did she see? What woke in your heart then? Why went you ever 
to Laurelindurenan, and came not by your own road, upon the horses of 
Rohan 

riding home in the morning?' 

Then turning again to Frodo, he spoke in a quiet voice once more. To 
those questions I guess that you could make some answer, Frodo son of Drogo. 
But not here or now. maybe. But lest you still should think my tale a 
vision, I will tell you this. The horn of Boromir at least returned in 
truth, and not in seeming. The horn came, but it was cloven in two, as it 
were by axe or sword. The shards came severally to shore: one was found 
among the reeds where watchers of Gondor lay, northwards below the infalls 
of the Entwash; the other was found spinning on the flood by one who had an 
errand in the water. Strange chances, but murder will out, 'tis said. 

'And now the horn of the elder son lies in two pieces upon the lap of 
Denethor, sitting in his high chair, waiting for news. And you can tell me 
nothing of the cleaving of the horn? ' 

'No, I did not know of it,' said Frodo. 'But the day when you heard it 
blowing, if your reckoning is true, was the day when we parted, when I and 
my servant left the Company. And now your tale fills me with dread. For if 
Boromir was then in peril and was slain, I must fear that all my companions 
perished too. And they were my kindred and my friends. 

'Will you not put aside your doubt of me and let me go? I am weary, and 
full of grief, and afraid. But I have a deed to do, or to attempt, before I 
too am slain. And the more need of haste, if we two halflings are all that 
remain of our fellowship. 

'Go back, Faramir, valiant Captain of Gondor, and defend your city 
while you may, and let me go where my doom takes me.' 

'For me there is no comfort in our speech together,' said Faramir; 'but 
you surely draw from it more dread than need be. Unless the people of Lurien 
themselves came to him, who arrayed Boromir as for a funeral? Not Ores or 
servants of the Nameless. Some of your Company, I guess, live still. 

'But whatever befell on the North March, you, Frodo, I doubt no longer. 




If hard days have made me any judge of Men’s words and faces, then I may 
make a guess at Halflings! Though,’ and now he smiled, There is something 
strange about you, Frodo, an elvish air, maybe. But more lies upon our words 
together than I thought at first. I should now take you back to Minas Tirith 
to answer there to Denethor, and my life will justly be forfeit, if I now 
choose a course that proves ill for my city. So I will not decide in haste 
what is to be done. Yet we must move hence without more delay.' 

He sprang to his feet and issued some orders. At once the men who were 
gathered round him broke up into small groups, and went off this way and 
that, vanishing quickly into the shadows of the rocks and trees. Soon only 
Mablung and Damrod remained. 

'Now you, Frodo and Samwise, will come with me and my guards,' said 
Faramir. v You cannot go along the road southwards, if that was your purpose. 
It will be unsafe for some days, and always more closely watched after this 
affray than it has been yet. And you cannot, I think, go far today in any 
case, for you are weary. And so are we. We are going now to a secret place 
we have, somewhat less than ten miles from here. The Ores and spies of the 
Enemy have not found it yet, and if they did, we could hold it long even 
against many. There we may lie up and rest for a while, and you with us. In 
the morning I will decide what is best for me to do, and for you.' 

There was nothing for Frodo to do but to fall in with this request, or 
order. It seemed in any case a wise course for the moment, since this foray 
of the men of Gondor had made a journey in Ithilien more dangerous than 
ever. 

They set out at once: Mablung and Damrod a little ahead, and Faramir 
with Frodo and Sam behind. Skirting the hither side of the pool where the 
hobbits had bathed, they crossed the stream, climbed a long bank, and passed 
into green-shadowed woodlands that marched ever downwards and 
westwards. 

While they walked, as swiftly as the hobbits could go, they talked in hushed 
voices. 

'I broke off our speech together,' said Faramir, 'not only because time 
pressed, as Master Samwise had reminded me, but also because we were 
drawing 

near to matters that were better not debated openly before many men. It was 
for that reason that I turned rather to the matter of my brother and let be 
Isildur's Bane. You were not wholly frank with me, Frodo.' 




'I told no lies, and of the truth all I could,' said Frodo. 

'I do not blame you,' said Faramir. 'You spoke with skill in a hard 
place, and wisely, it seemed to me. But I learned or guessed more from you 
than your words said. You were not friendly with Boromir, or you did not 
part in friendship. You, and Master Samwise, too, I guess have some 
grievance. Now I loved him dearly, and would gladly avenge his death, yet I 
knew him well. Isildur's Bane — I would hazard that Isildur's Bane lay 
between you and was a cause of contention in your Company. Clearly it is a 
mighty heirloom of some sort, and such things do not breed peace among 
confederates, not if aught may be learned from ancient tales. Do I not hit 
near the mark?' 

'Near,' said Frodo, 'but not in the gold. There was no contention in 
our Company, though there was doubt: doubt which way we should take from 
the 

Emyn Muil. But be that as it may, ancient tales teach us also the peril of 
rash words concerning such things as — heirlooms.' 

'Ah, then it is as I thought: your trouble was with Boromir alone. Fie 
wished this thing brought to Minas Tirith. Alas! it is a crooked fate that 
seals your lips who saw him last, and holds from me that which I long to 
know: what was in his heart and thought in his latest hours. Whether he 
erred or no, of this I am sure: he died well, achieving some good thing. His 
face was more beautiful even than in life. 

'But, Frodo, I pressed you hard at first about Isildur's Bane. Forgive 
me! It was unwise in such an hour and place. I had not had time for thought. 
We had had a hard fight, and there was more than enough to fill my mind. But 
even as I spoke with you, I drew nearer to the mark, and so deliberately 
shot wider. For you must know that much is still preserved of ancient lore 
among the Rulers of the city that is not spread abroad. We of my house are 
not of the line of Elendil. though the blood of N®menor is in us. For we 
reckon back our line to Mardil, the good steward, who ruled in the king's 
stead when he went away to war. And that was King Edrnur, last of the line 
of Anbrion, and childless, and he came never back. And the stewards have 
governed the city since that day, though it was many generations of Men ago. 

'And this I remember of Boromir as a boy, when we together learned the 
tale of our sires and the history of our city, that always it displeased him 
that his father was not king. "How many hundreds of years needs it to make a 
steward a king, if the king returns not? " he asked. "Few years, maybe, in 




other places of less royalty," my father answered. "In Gondor ten thousand 
years would not suffice." Alas! poor Boromir. Does that not tell you 
something of him? ' 

'It does,' said Frodo. 'Yet always he treated Aragorn with honour.' 

'I doubt it not,' said Faramir. 'If he were satisfied of Aragorn's 
claim as you say, he would greatly reverence him. But the pinch has not yet 
come. They had not yet reached Minas Tirith or become rivals in her wars. 

'But I stray. We in the house of Denethor know much ancient lore by 
long tradition, and there are moreover in our treasuries many things 
preserved: books and tablets writ on withered parchments, yea, and on stone, 
and on leaves of silver and of gold, in divers characters. Some none can now 
read; and for the rest, few ever unlock them. I can read a little in them, 
for I have had teaching. It was these records that brought the Grey Pilgrim 
to us. I first saw him when I was a child, and he has been twice or thrice 
since then.’ 

'The Grey Pilgrim? ' said Frodo. 'Had he a name?' 

'Mithrandir we called him in elf-fashion,' said Faramir, 'and he was 
content. Many are my names in many countries , he said. Mithrandir among the 
Elves, Tharkyn to the Dwarves; Olurin I was in my youth in the West that is 
forgotten, in the South Incbnus, in the North Gandalf; to the East I go 
not.' 

'Gandalf!' said Frodo. 'I thought it was he. Gandalf the Grey dearest 
of counsellors. Leader of our Company. He was lost in Moria.' 

'Mithrandir was lost! ' said Faramir. 'An evil fate seems to have 
pursued your fellowship. It is hard indeed to believe that one of so great 
wisdom, and of power — for many wonderful things he did among us — could 
perish, and so much lore be taken from the world. Are you sure of this, and 
that he did not just leave you and depart where he would? ' 

'Alas! yes,' said Frodo. 'I saw him fall into the abyss.' 

'I see that there is some great tale of dread in this.' said Faramir 
'which perhaps you may tell me in the evening -time. This Mithrandir was, I 
now guess, more than a lore-master: a great mover of the deeds that are done 
in our time. Had he been among us to consult concerning the hard words of 
our dream, he could have made them clear to us without need of messenger. 
Yet, maybe, he would not have done so, and the journey of Boromir was 
doomed. Mithrandir never spoke to us of what was to be, nor did he reveal 
his purposes. He got leave of Denethor, how I do not know, to look at the 




secrets of our treasury, and I learned a little of him, when he would teach 
(and that was seldom). Ever he would search and would question us above all 
else concerning the Great Battle that was fought upon Dagorlad in the 
beginning of Gondor, when He whom we do not name was overthrown. And 
he was 

eager for stories of Isildur, though of him we had less to tell; for nothing 
certain was ever known among us of his end.' 

Now Faramir's voice sank to a whisper. 'But this much I learned or 
guessed, and I have kept it ever secret in my heart since: that Isildur took 
somewhat from the hand of the Unnamed, ere he went away from Gondor, 
never 

to be seen among mortal men again. Here I thought was the answer to 
Mithrandir's questioning. But it seemed then a matter that concerned only 
the seekers after ancient learning. Nor when the riddling words of our dream 
were debated among us, did I think of Isildur's Bane as being this same 
thing. For Isildur was ambushed and slain by ore-arrows, according to the 
only legend that we knew, and Mithrandir had never told me more. 

'What in truth this Thing is I cannot yet guess; but some heirloom of 
power and peril it must be. A fell weapon, perchance, devised by the Dark 
Ford. If it were a thing that gave advantage in battle. I can well believe 
that Boromir, the proud and fearless, often rash, ever anxious for the 
victory of Minas Tirith (and his own glory therein), might desire such a 
thing and be allured by it. Alas that ever he went on that errand! I should 
have been chosen by my father and the elders but he put himself forward, as 
being the older and the hardier (both true), and he would not be stayed. 

'But fear no more! I would not take this thing, if it layby the 
highway. Not were Minas Tirith falling in ruin and I alone could save her, 
so, using the weapon of the Dark Ford for her good and my glory. No. I do 
not wish for such triumphs, Frodo son of Drogo.' 

'Neither did the Council,' said Frodo. 'Nor do 1. 1 would have nothing 
to do with such matters.' 

'For myself,’ said Faramir, ’I would see the White Tree in flower again 
in the courts of the kings, and the Silver Crown return, and Minas Tirith in 
peace: Minas Anor again as of old, full of light, high and fair, beautiful 
as a queen among other queens: not a mistress of many slaves, nay, not even 
a kind mistress of willing slaves. War must be, while we defend our lives 
against a destroyer who would devour all; but I do not love the bright sword 




for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his 
glory. I love only that which they defend: the city of the Men of N®menor; 
and I would have her loved for her memory, her ancientry, her beauty, and 
her present wisdom. Not feared, save as men may fear the dignity of a man, 
old and wise. 

'So fear me not! I do not ask you to tell me more. I do not even ask 
you to tell me whether I now speak nearer the mark. But if you will trust 
me, it may be that I can advise you in your present quest, whatever that 
be-yes, and even aid you.' 

Frodo made no answer. Almost he yielded to the desire for help and 
counsel, to tell this grave young man, whose words seemed so wise and fair, 
all that was in his mind. But something held him back. His heart was heavy 
with fear and sorrow: if he and Sam were indeed, as seemed likely, all that 
was now left of the Nine Walkers, then he was in sole command of the secret 
of their errand. Better mistrust undeserved than rash words. And the memory 
of Boromir, of the dreadful change that the lure of the Ring had worked in 
him, was very present to his mind, when he looked at Faramir and listened to 
his voice: unlike they were, and yet also much akin. 

They walked on in silence for a while, passing like grey and green 
shadows under the old trees, their feet making no sound; above them many 
birds sang, and the sun glistened on the polished roof of dark leaves in the 
evergreen woods of Ithilien. 

Sam had taken no part in the conversation, though he had listened; and 
at the same time he had attended with his keen hobbit ears to all the soft 
woodland noises about them. One thing he had noted, that in all the talk the 
name of Gollum had not once come up. He was glad, though he felt that it was 
too much to hope that he would never hear it again. He soon became aware 
also that though they walked alone, there were many men close at hand: not 
only Damrod and Mablung flitting in and out of the shadows ahead, but others 
on either side, all making their swift secret way to some appointed place. 

Once, looking suddenly back, as if some prickle of the skin told him 
that he was watched from behind, he thought he caught a brief glimpse of a 
small dark shape slipping behind a tree-trunk. He opened his mouth to speak 
and shut it again. Tm not sure of it,' he said to himself, 'and why should 
I remind them of the old villain, if they choose to forget him? I wish I 
could!' 

So they passed on, until the woodlands grew thinner and the land began 




to fall more steeply. Then they turned aside again, to the right, and came 
quickly to a small river in a narrow gorge: it was the same stream that 
trickled far above out of the round pool, now grown to a swift torrent, 
leaping down over many stones in a deep-cloven bed, overhung with ilex and 
dark box- woods. Looking west they could see, below them in a haze of light, 
lowlands and broad meads, and glinting far off in the westering sun the wide 
waters of the Anduin. 

'Here, alas! I must do you a discourtesy,' said Faramir. "I hope you 
will pardon it to one who has so far made his orders give way to courtesy as 
not to slay you or to bind you. But it is a command that no stranger, not 
even one of Rohan that fights with us, shall see the path we now go with 
open eyes. I must blindfold you.’ 

'As you will,' said Frodo. ’Even the Elves do likewise at need, and 
blindfolded we crossed the borders of fair Lothlurien. Gimli the dwarf took 
it ill, but the hobbits endured it.' 

'It is to no place so fair that I shall lead you,' said Faramir. 'But I 
am glad that you will take this willingly and not by force.' 

He called softly and immediately Mablung and Damrod stepped out of the 
trees and came back to him. 'Blindfold these guests,' said Faramir. 
'Securely, but not so as to discomfort them. Do not tie their hands. They 
will give their word not to try and see. I could trust them to shut their 
eyes of their own accord, but eyes will blink, if the feet stumble. Lead 
them so that they do not falter.' 

With green scarves the two guards now bound up the hobbits' eyes and 
drew their hoods down almost to their mouths; then quickly they took each 
one by the hand and went on their way. All that Frodo and Sam knew of this 
last mile of the road they learned from guessing in the dark. After a little 
they found that they were on a path descending steeply; soon it grew so 
narrow that they went in single file, brushing a stony wall on either side; 
their guards steered them from behind with hands laid firmly on their 
shoulders. Now and again they came to rough places and were lifted from 
their feet for a while, and then set down again. Always the noise of the 
running water was on their right hand, and it grew nearer and louder. At 
length they were halted. Quickly Mablung and Damrod turned them about, 
several times, and they lost all sense of direction. They climbed upwards a 
little: it seemed cold and the noise of the stream had become faint. Then 
they were picked up and carried down, down many steps, and round a corner. 




Suddenly they heard the water again, loud now, rushing and splashing. All 
round them it seemed, and they felt a fine rain on their hands and cheeks. 

At last they were set on their feet once more. For a moment they stood so, 
half fearful, blindfold, not knowing where they were; and no one spoke. 

Then came the voice of Faramir close behind. 'Let them see! ' he said. 

The scarves were removed and their hoods drawn back, and they blinked and 
gasped. 

They stood on a wet floor of polished stone, the doorstep, as it were, 
of a rough-hewn gate of rock opening dark behind them. But in front a thin 
veil of water was hung, so near that Frodo could have put an outstretched 
arm into it. It faced westward. The level shafts of the setting sun behind 
beat upon it, and the red light was broken into many flickering beams of 
ever-changing colour. It was as if they stood at the window of some 
elven-tower, curtained with threaded jewels of silver and gold, and ruby, 
sapphire and amethyst, all kindled with an unconsuming fire. 

'At least by good chance we came at the right hour to reward you for 
your patience,' said Faramir. 'This is the Window of the Sunset, Henneth 
Annyn, fairest of all the falls of Ithilien, land of many fountains. Few 
strangers have ever seen it. But there is no kingly hall behind to match it. 

Enter now and see ! ’ 

Even as he spoke the sun sank, and the fire faded in the flowing water. 

They turned and passed under the low forbidding arch. At once they found 
themselves in a rock-chamber, wide and rough, with an uneven stooping roof. 
A few torches were kindled and cast a dim light on the glistening walls. 
Many men were already there. Others were still coming in by twos and threes 
through a dark narrow door on one side. As their eyes grew accustomed to the 
gloom the hobbits saw that the cave was larger than they had guessed and was 
filled with great store of arms and victuals. 

'Well, here is our refuge,' said Faramir. 'Not a place of great ease 
but here you may pass the night in peace. It is dry at least, and there is 
food, though no fire. At one time the water flowed down through this cave 
and out of the arch, but its course was changed further up the gorge, by 
workmen of old, and the stream sent down in a fall of doubled height over 
the rocks far above. All the ways into this grot were then sealed against 
the entry of water or aught else, all save one. There are now but two ways 
out: that passage yonder by which you entered blindfold, and through the 
Window-curtain into a deep bowl filled with knives of stone. Now rest a 




while, until the evening meal is set.' 

The hobbits were taken to a corner and given a low bed to lie on, if 
they wished. Meanwhile men busied themselves about the cave, quietly and in 
orderly quickness. Light tables were taken from the walls and set up on 
trestles and laden with gear. This was plain and unadorned for the most 
part, but all well and fairly, made: round platters, bowls and dishes of 
glazed brown clay or turned box-wood, smooth and clean. Here and there was a 
cup or basin of polished bronze; and a goblet of plain silver was set by the 
Captain’s seat in the middle of the inmost table. 

Faramir went about among the men, questioning each as he came in, in a 
soft voice. Some came back from the pursuit of the Southrons; others, left 
behind as scouts near the road, came in latest. All the Southrons had been 
accounted for, save only the great mymak: what happened to him none could 
say. Of the enemy no movement could be seen; not even an ore-spy was 
abroad. 

'You saw and heard nothing, Anborn?' Faramir asked of the latest comer. 

'Well, no, lord,’ said the man. 'No Ore at least. But I saw, or thought 
I saw, something a little strange. It was getting deep dusk, when the eyes 
make things greater than they should be. So perhaps it may have been no more 
than a squirrel.’ Sam pricked up his ears at this. ’Yet if so, it was a 
black squirrel, and I saw no tail. ’Twas like a shadow on the ground, and it 
whisked behind a tree-trunk when I drew nigh and went up aloft as swift as 
any squirrel could. You will not have us slay wild beasts for no purpose, 
and it seemed no more, so I tried no arrow. It was too dark for sure 
shooting anyway, and the creature was gone into the gloom of the leaves in a 
twinkling. But I stayed for a while, for it seemed strange, and then I 
hastened back. I thought I heard the thing hiss at me from high above as I 
turned away. A large squirrel, maybe. Perhaps under the shadow of the 
Unnamed some of the beasts of Mirkwood are wandering hither to our 
woods. 

They have black squirrels there, ’tis said.’ 

'Perhaps,' said Faramir. 'But that would be an ill omen, if it were so. 

We do not want the escapes of Mirkwood in Ithilien.’ Sam fancied that he 
gave a swift glance towards the hobbits as he spoke; but Sam said nothing. 

For a while he and Frodo lay back and watched the torchlight, and the men 
moving to and fro speaking in hushed voices. Then suddenly Frodo fell 
asleep. 




Sam struggled with himself, arguing this way and that. 'He may be all 
right,' he thought, ’and then he may not. Fair speech may hide a foul 
heart.' He yawned. V I could sleep for a week, and I'd be better for it. And 
what can I do, if I do keep awake, me all alone, and all these great Men 
about? Nothing, Sam Gamgee; but you've got to keep awake all the same.' And 
somehow he managed it. The light faded from the cave door, and the grey veil 
of falling water grew dim and was lost in gathering shadow. Always the sound 
of the water went on, never changing its note, morning or evening or night. 

It murmured and whispered of sleep. Sam stuck his knuckles in his eyes. 

Now more torches were being lit. A cask of wine was broached. Storage 
barrels were being opened. Men were fetching water from the fall. Some were 
laving their hands in basins. A wide copper bowl and a white cloth were 
brought to Faramir and he washed. 

'Wake our guests,' he said, 'and take them water. It is time to eat.’ 

Frodo sat up and yawned and stretched. Sam, not used to being waited 
on, looked with some surprise at the tall man who bowed, holding a basin of 
water before him. 

'Put it on the ground, master, if you please! ' he said. 'Easier for me 
and you.' Then to the astonishment and amusement of the Men he plunged his 
head into the cold water and splashed his neck and ears. 

'Is it the custom in your land to wash the head before supper? ' said 
the man who waited on the hobbits. 

'No, before breakfast,' said Sam. 'But if you're short of sleep cold 
water on the neck's like rain on a wilted lettuce. There! Now I can keep 
awake long enough to eat a bit.' 

They were led then to seats beside Faramir: barrels covered with pelts 
and high enough above the benches of the Men for their convenience. Before 
they ate, Faramir and all his men turned and faced west in a moment of 
silence. Faramir signed to Frodo and Sam that they should do likewise. 

'So we always do.' he said, as they sat down: 'we look towards N®menor 
that was, and beyond to Elvenhome that is, and to that which is beyond 
Elvenhome and will ever be. Have you no such custom at meat? ’ 

'No,' said Frodo, feeling strangely rustic and untutored. 'But if we 
are guests, we bow to our host, and after we have eaten we rise and thank 
him.' 

'That we do also,' said Faramir. 

After so long journeying and camping, and days spent XJn the lonely 




wild, the evening meal seemed a feast to the hobbits: to drink pale yellow 
wine, cool and fragrant, and eat bread and butter, and salted meats, and 
dried fruits, and good red cheese, with clean hands and clean knives and 
plates. Neither Frodo nor Sam refused anything that was offered, nor a 
second, nor indeed a third helping. The wine coursed in their veins and 
tired limbs, and they felt glad and easy of heart as they had not done since 
they left the land of Lurien. 

When all was done Faramir led them to a recess at the back of the cave, 
partly screened by curtains; and a chair and two stools were brought there. 

A little earthenware lamp burned in a niche. 

'You may soon desire to sleep,' he said, ’and especially good Samwise, 
who would not close his eyes before he ate — whether for fear of blunting 
the edge of a noble hunger, or for fear of me, I do not know. But it is not 
good to sleep too soon after meat, and that following a fast. Let us talk a 
while. On your journey from Rivendell there must have been many things to 
tell. And you, too, would perhaps wish to learn something of us and the 
lands where you now are. Tell me of Boromir my brother, and of old 
Mithrandir, and of the fair people of Lothlurien.' 

Frodo no longer felt sleepy and he was willing to talk. But though the 
food and wine had put him at his ease, he had not lost all his caution. Sam 
was beaming and humming to himself, but when Frodo spoke he was at first 
content to listen, only occasionally venturing to make an exclamation of 
agreement. 

Frodo told many tales, yet always he steered the matter away from the 
quest of the Company and from the Ring, enlarging rather on the valiant part 
Boromir had played in all their adventures, with the wolves of the wild, in 
the snows under Caradhras, and in the mines of Moria where Gandalf fell. 
Faramir was most moved by the story of the fight on the bridge. 

'It must have irked Boromir to run from Ores,’ he said, 'or even from 
the fell thing you name, the Balrog — even though he was the last to 
leave.' 

'Fie was the last,' said Frodo, 'but Aragorn was forced to lead us. Fie 
alone knew the way after Gandalf s fall. But had there not been us lesser 
folk to care for, I do not think that either he or Boromir would have fled.' 

'Maybe, it would have been better had Boromir fallen there with 
Mithrandir,' said Faramir, 'and not gone on to the fate that waited above 
the falls of Rauros.' 




'Maybe. But tell me now of your own fortunes,' said Frodo, turning the 
matter aside once again. 'For I would learn more of Minas Ithil and 
Osgiliath, and Minas Tirith the long-enduring. What hope have you for that 
city in your long war? ' 

'What hope have we? ' said Faramir. 'It is long since we had any hope. 

The sword of Elendil, if it returns indeed, may rekindle it, but I do not 
think that it will do more than put off the evil day, unless other help 
unlooked-for also comes, from Elves or Men. For the Enemy increases and we 
decrease. We are a failing people, a springless autumn. 

'The Men of N®menor were settled far and wide on the shores and seaward 
regions of the Great Lands, but for the most part they fell into evils and 
follies. Many became enamoured of the Darkness and the black arts; some 
were 

given over wholly to idleness and ease, and some fought among themselves, 
until they were conquered in their weakness by the wild men. 

'It is not said that evil arts were ever practised in Gondor, or that 
the Nameless One was ever named in honour there; and the old wisdom and 
beauty brought out of the West remained long in the realm of the sons of 
Elendil the Fair, and they linger there still. Yet even so it was Gondor 
that brought about its own decay, falling by degrees into dotage, and 
thinking that the Enemy was asleep, who was only banished not destroyed. 

'Death was ever present, because the N®menoreans still, as they had in 
their old kingdom, and so lost it, hungered after endless life unchanging. 

Kings made tombs more splendid than houses of the living, and counted old 
names in the rolls of their descent dearer than the names of sons. Childless 
lords sat in aged halls musing on heraldry; in secret chambers withered men 
compounded strong elixirs, or in high cold towers asked questions of the 
stars. And the last king of the line of Anbrion had no heir. 

'But the stewards were wiser and more fortunate. Wiser, for they 
recruited the strength of our people from the sturdy folk of the sea -coast, 
and from the hardy mountaineers of Ered Nimrais. And they made a truce with 
the proud peoples of the North, who often had assailed us, men of fierce 
valour, but our kin from afar off, unlike the wild Easterlings or the cruel 
Haradrim. 

'So it came to pass in the days of Cirion the Twelfth Steward (and my 
father is the sit and twentieth) that they rode to our aid and at the great 
Field of Celebrant they destroyed our enemies that had seized our northern 




provinces. These are the Rohirrim, as we name them, masters of horses, and 
we ceded to them the fields of Calenardhon that are since called Rohan; for 
that province had long been sparsely peopled. And they became our allies, 
and have ever proved true to us, aiding us at need, and guarding our 
northern marches and the Gap of Rohan. 

'Of our lore and manners they have learned what they would, and their 
lords speak our speech at need; yet for the most part they hold by the ways 
of their own fathers and to their own memories, and they speak among 
themselves their own North tongue. And we love them: tall men and fair 
women, valiant both alike, golden-haired, bright-eyed, and strong; they 
remind us of the youth of Men, as they were in the Elder Days. Indeed it is 
said by our lore-masters that they have from of old this affinity with us 
that they are come from those same Three Houses of Men as were the 
N®menoreans in their beginning not from Hador the Goldenhaired, the 
Elf-friend, maybe, yet from such of his sons and people as went not over Sea 
into the West, refusing the call. 

'For so we reckon Men in our lore, calling them the High, or Men of the 
West, which were N®menoreans; and the Middle Peoples, Men of the 
Twilight, 

such as are the Rohirrim and their kin that dwell still far in the North; 
and the Wild, the Men of Darkness. 

'Yet now, if the Rohirrim are grown in some ways more like to us, 
enhanced in arts and gentleness, we too have become more like to them, and 
can scarce claim any longer the title High. We are become Middle Men, of the 
Twilight, but with memory of other things. For as the Rohirrim do, we now 
love war and valour as things good in themselves, both a sport and an end; 
and though we still hold that a warrior should have more skills and 
knowledge than only the craft of weapons and slaying, we esteem a warrior, 
nonetheless, above men of other crafts. Such is the need of our days. So 
even was my brother, Boromir: a man of prowess, and for that he was 
accounted the best man in Gondor. And very valiant indeed he was: no heir of 
Minas Tirith has for long years been so hardy in toil, so onward into 
battle, or blown a mightier note on the Great Horn.' Faramir sighed and fell 
silent for a while. 

'You don't say much in all your tales about the Elves, sir,' said Sam, 
suddenly plucking up courage. He had noted that Faramir seemed to refer to 
Elves with reverence, and this even more than his courtesy, and his food and 




wine, had won Sam's respect and quieted his suspicions. 

'No indeed, Master Samwise,' said Faramir, 'for I am not learned in 
Elven-lore. But there you touch upon another point in which we have changed, 
declining from N®menor to Middle-earth. For as you may know, if 
Mithrandir 

was your companion and you have spoken with Elrond, the Edain, the Fathers 
of the N®menoreans, fought beside the Elves in the first wars, and were 
rewarded by the gift of the kingdom in the midst of the Sea, within sight of 
Elvenhome. But in Middle-earth Men and Elves became estranged in the days 
of 

darkness, by the arts of the Enemy, and by the slow changes of time in which 
each kind walked further down their sundered roads. Men now fear and 
misdoubt the Elves, and yet know little of them. And we of Gondor grow like 
other Men, like the men of Rohan; for even they, who are the foes of the 
Dark Lord, shun the Elves and speak of the Golden Wood with dread. 

'Yet there are among us still some who have dealings with the Elves 
when they may, and ever and anon one will go in secret to Lurien, seldom to 
return. Not I. For I deem it perilous now for mortal man wilfully to seek 
out the Elder People. Yet I envy you that have spoken with the White Lady.’ 

'The Lady of Lurien! Galadriel!' cried Sam. 'You should see her indeed 
you should, sir. I am only a hobbit, and gardening's my job at home, sir, if 
you understand me, and I'm not much good at poetry — not at making it: a 
bit of a comic rhyme, perhaps, now and again, you know, but not real poetry 
— so I can't tell you what I mean. It ought to be sung. You'd have to get 
Strider, Aragorn that is, or old Mr. Bilbo, for that. But I wish I could 
make a song about her. Beautiful she is, sir! Lovely! Sometimes like a great 
tree in flower, sometimes like a white daffadowndilly, small and slender 
like. Hard as di'monds, soft as moonlight. Warm as sunlight, cold as frost 
in the stars. Proud and far-off as a snow -mountain, and as merry as any lass 
I ever saw with daisies in her hair in springtime. But that's a lot o' 
nonsense, and all wide of my mark.' 

'Then she must be lovely indeed,' said Faramir. 'Perilously fair.' 

'I don't know about perilous ,' said Sam. 'It strikes me that folk takes 
their peril with them into Lurien, and finds it there because they've 
brought it. But perhaps you could call her perilous, because she's so strong 
in herself. You, you could dash yourself to pieces on her, like a ship on a 
rock; or drownd yourself, like a hobbit in a river. But neither rock nor 




river would be to blame. Now Boro — ' He stopped and went red in the face. 

'Yes? Now Boromir you would say? ' said Faramir. 'What would you say? 
He took his peril with him? ’ 

'Yes sir, begging your pardon, and a fine man as your brother was if I 
may say so. But you've been warm on the scent all along. Now I watched 
Boromir and listened to him, from Rivendell all down the road — looking 
after my master, as you'll understand, and not meaning any harm to Boromir 
— and it's my opinion that in Lurien he first saw clearly what I guessed 
sooner: what he wanted. From the moment he first saw it he wanted the 
Enemy's Ring! ' 

'Sam! ' cried Frodo aghast. He had fallen deep into his own thoughts 
for a while, and came out of them suddenly and too late. 

'Save me! ' said Sam turning white, and then flushing scarlet. 'There I 
go again! When ever you open your big mouth you put your foot in it the 
Gaffer used to say to me, and right enough. O dear, O dear! 

'Now look here, sir! ' He turned, facing up to Faramir with all the 
courage that he could muster. 'Don't you go taking advantage of my master 
because his servant's no better than a fool. You've spoken very handsome all 
along, put me off my guard, talking of Elves and all. But handsome is as 
handsome does we say. Now's a chance to show your quality.' 

'So it seems,' said Faramir, slowly and very softly, with a strange 
smile. 'So that is the answer to all the riddles! The One Ring that was 
thought to have perished from the world. And Boromir tried to take it by 
force? And you escaped? And ran all the way — to me! And here in the wild I 
have you: two halflings, and a host of men at my call, and the Ring of 
Rings. A pretty stroke of fortune! A chance for Faramir, Captain of Gondor, 
to show his quality! Ha!’ He stood up, very tall and stern, his grey eyes 
glinting. 

Frodo and Sam sprang from their stools and set themselves side by side 
with their backs to the wall, fumbling for their sword-hilts. There was a 
silence. All the men in the cave stopped talking and looked towards them in 
wonder. But Faramir sat down again in his chair and began to laugh quietly, 
and then suddenly became grave again. 

'Alas for Boromir! It was too sore a trial! ' he said. 'How you have 
increased my sorrow, you two strange wanderers from a far country, bearing 
the peril of Men! But you are less judges of Men than I of Halflings. We are 
truth-speakers, we men of Gondor. We boast seldom, and then perform, or die 




in the attempt. Not if I found it on the highway would I take it I said. 

Even if I were such a man as to desire this thing, and even though I knew 
not clearly what this thing was when I spoke, still I should take those 
words as a vow, and be held by them. 

'But I am not such a man. Or I am wise enough to know that there are 
some perils from which a man must flee. Sit at peace! And be comforted, 
Samwise. If you seem to have stumbled, think that it was fated to be so. 

Your heart is shrewd as well as faithful, and saw clearer than your eyes. 

For strange though it may seem, it was safe to declare this to me. It may 
even help the master that you love. It shall turn to his good, if it is in 
my power. So be comforted. But do not even name this thing again aloud. Once 
is enough.' 

The hobbits came back to their seats and sat very quiet. Men turned 
back to their drink and their talk, perceiving that their captain had had 
some jest or other with the little guests, and that it was over. 

'Well, Frodo, now at last we understand one another,' said Faramir. 'If 
you took this thing on yourself, unwilling, at others' asking, then you have 
pity and honour from me. And I marvel at you: to keep it hid and not to use 
it. You are a new people and a new world to me. Are all your kin of like 
sort? Your land must be a realm of peace and content, and there must 
gardeners be in high honour.' 

'Not all is well there,' said Frodo, 'but certainly gardeners are 
honoured.' 

'But folk must grow weary there, even in their gardens, as do all 
things under the Sun of this world. And you are far from home and wayworn. 
No more tonight. Sleep, both of you — in peace, if you can. Fear not! I do 
not wish to see it, or touch it, or know more of it than I know (which is 
enough), lest peril perchance waylay me and I fall lower in the test than 
Frodo son of Drogo. Go now to rest — but first tell me only, if you will, 
whither you wish to go, and what to do. For I must watch, and wait, and 
think. Time passes. In the morning we must each go swiftly on the ways 
appointed to us.’ 

Frodo had felt himself trembling as the first shock of fear passed. Now 
a great weariness came down on him like a cloud. He could dissemble and 
resist no longer. 

’I was going to find a way into Mordor,' he said faintly. 'I was going 
to Gorgoroth. I must find the Mountain of Fire and cast the thing into the 




gulf of Doom. Gandalf said so. I do not think I shall ever get there.' 

Faramir stared at him for a moment in grave astonishment. Then suddenly 
he caught him as he swayed, and lifting him gently, carried him to the bed 
and laid him there, and covered him warmly. At once he fell into a deep 
sleep. 

Another bed was set beside him for his servant. Sam hesitated for a 
moment, then bowing very low: 'Good night, Captain, my lord,' he said. 'You 
took the chance, sir.' 

'Did I so?’ said Faramir. 

'Yes sir, and showed your quality: the very highest.' 

Faramir smiled. 'A pert servant, Master Samwise. But nay: the praise of 
the praiseworthy is above all rewards. Yet there was naught in this to 
praise. I had no lure or desire to do other than I have done.' 

'Ah well, sir,' said Sam, 'you said my master had an elvish air and 
that was good and true. But I can say this: you have an air too, sir, that 
reminds me of, of — well, Gandalf, of wizards. 

'Maybe,' said Faramir. 'Maybe you discern from far away the air of 
N®menor. Good night!’ 




Chapter 6 . The Forbidden Pool 



Frodo woke to find Faramir bending over him. For a second old fears 
seized him and he sat up and shrank away. 

'There is nothing to fear,' said Faramir. 

'Is it morning already? ' said Frodo yawning. 

'Not yet, but night is drawing to an end, and the full moon is setting. 

Will you come and see it? Also there is a matter on which I desire your 
counsel. I am sorry to rouse you from sleep, but will you come? ’ 

'I will,' said Frodo, rising and shivering a little as he left the warm 
blanket and pelts. It seemed cold in the fireless cave. The noise of the 
water was loud in the stillness. He put on his cloak and followed Faramir. 

Sam, waking suddenly by some instinct of watchfulness, saw first his 
master’s empty bed and leapt to his feet. Then he saw two dark figures, 
Frodo and a man, framed against the archway, which was now filled with 
pale white light. He hurried after them, past rows of men sleeping on 
mattresses along the wall. As he went by the cave-mouth he saw that the 
Curtain was now become a dazzling veil of silk and pearls and silver thread: 
melting icicles of moonlight. But he did not pause to admire it, and turning 
aside he followed his master through the narrow doorway in the wall of the 
cave. 

They went first along a black passage, then up many wet steps, and so 
came to a small flat landing cut in the stone and lit by the pale sky, 
gleaming high above through a long deep shaft. From here two flights of 
steps led: one going on, as it seemed, up on to the high bank of the stream; 
the other turning away to the left. This they followed. It wound its way up 
like a turret- stair. 

At last they came out of the stony darkness and looked about. They were 
on a wide flat rock without rail or parapet. At their right, eastwards, the 
torrent fell, splashing over many terraces, and then, pouring down a steep 
race, it filled a smooth-hewn channel with a dark force of water flecked 
with foam, and curling and rushing almost at their feet it plunged sheer 
over the edge that yawned upon their left. A man stood there, near the 
brink, silent, gazing down. 

Frodo turned to watch the sleek necks of the water as they curved and 




dived. Then he lifted his eyes and gazed far away. The world was quiet and 
cold, as if dawn were near. Far off in the West the full moon was sinking, 
round and white. Pale mists shimmered in the great vale below: a wide gulf 
of silver fume, beneath which rolled the cool night-waters of the Anduin. A 
black darkness loomed beyond, and in it glinted, here and there, cold, 
sharp, remote, white as the teeth of ghosts, the peaks of Ered Nimrais, the 
White Mountains of the Realm of Gondor, tipped with everlasting snow. 

For a while Frodo stood there on the high stone, and a shiver ran 
through him, wondering if anywhere in the vastness of the night -lands his 
old companions walked or slept, or lay dead shrouded in mist. Why was he 
brought here out of forgetful sleep? 

Sam was eager for an answer to the same question and could not refrain 
himself from muttering, for his master's ear alone as he thought: ’It's a 
fine view, no doubt, Mr. Frodo, but chilly to the heart, not to mention the 
bones ! What's going on? ’ 

Faramir heard and answered. 'Moonset over Gondor. Fair Ithil as he goes 
from Middle-earth, glances upon the white locks of old Mindolluin. It is 
worth a few shivers. But that is not what I brought you to see-though as for 
you, Samwise, you were not brought, and do but pay the penalty of your 
watchfulness. A draught of wine shall amend it. Come, look now! ' 

Fie stepped up beside the silent sentinel on the dark edge, and Frodo 
followed. Sam hung back. He already felt insecure enough on this high wet 
platform. Faramir and Frodo looked down. Far below them they saw the white 
waters pour into a foaming bowl, and then swirl darkly about a deep oval 
basin in the rocks, until they found their way out again through a narrow 
gate, and flowed away, fuming and chattering, into calmer and more level 
reaches. The moonlight still slanted down to the fall's foot and gleamed on 
the ripples of the basin. Presently Frodo was aware of a small dark thing on 
the near bank, but even as he looked at it, it dived and vanished just 
beyond the boil and bubble of the fall, cleaving the black water as neatly 
as an arrow or an edgewise stone. 

Faramir turned to the man at his side. 'Now what would you say that it 
is, Anborn? A squirrel, or a kingfisher? Are there black kingfishers in the 
night-pools of Mirkwood? ' 

v 'Tis not a bird, whatever else it be,' answered Anborn. 'It has four 
limbs and dives manwise; a pretty mastery of the craft it shows, too. What 
is it at? Seeking a way up behind the Curtain to our hidings? It seems we 




are discovered at last. I have my bow here, and I have posted other archers, 
nigh as good marksmen as myself, on either bank. We wait only for your 
command to shoot, Captain.' 

'Shall we shoot? ' said Faramir, turning quickly to Frodo. 

Frodo did not answer for a moment. Then 'No! ’ he said. 'No! I beg you 
not to.’ If Sam had dared, he would have said 'Yes,' quicker and louder. He 
could not see, but he guessed well enough from their words what they were 
looking at. 

'You know, then, what this thing is? ' said Faramir. 'Come, now you 
have seen, tell me why it should be spared. In all our words together you 
have not once spoken of your gangrel companion, and I let him be for the 
time. He could wait till he was caught and brought before me. I sent my 
keenest huntsmen to seek him, but he slipped them, and they had no sight of 
him till now, save Anborn here, once at dusk y esterevening. But now he has 
done worse trespass than only to go coney-snaring in the uplands: he has 
dared to come to Henneth Annyn, and his life is forfeit. I marvel at the 
creature: so secret and so sly as he is, to come sporting in the pool before 
our very window. Does he think that men sleep without watch all night? Why 
does he so?’ 

'There are two answers, I think,' said Frodo. 'For one thing, he knows 
little of Men, and sly though he is, your refuge is so hidden that perhaps 
he does not know that Men are concealed here. For another, I think he is 
allured here by a mastering desire, stronger than his caution.' 

'He is lured here, you say? ' said Faramir in a low voice. 'Can he, 
does he then know of your burden? ’ 

'Indeed yes. He bore it himself for many years.’ 

'He bore it? ' said Faramir, breathing sharply in his wonder. 'This 
matter winds itself ever in new riddles. Then he is pursuing it? ’ 

'Maybe. It is precious to him. But I did not speak of that.' 

'What then does the creature seek? ' 

'Fish,' said Frodo. 'Look! ’ 

They peered down at the dark pool. A little black head appeared at the 
far end of the basin, just out of the deep shadow of the rocks. There was a 
brief silver glint, and a swirl of tiny ripples. It swam to the side, and 
then with marvellous agility a froglike figure climbed out of the water and 
up the bank. At once it sat down and began to gnaw at the small silver thing 
that glittered as it turned: the last rays of the moon were now falling 




behind the stony wall at the pool's end. 

Faramir laughed softly. 'Fish! ' he said. 'It is a less perilous 
hunger. Or maybe not: fish from the pool of Henneth Annyn may cost him all 
he has to give.’ 

'Now I have him at the arrow-point,' said Anborn. 'Shall I not shoot, 
Captain? For coming unbidden to this place death is our law.' 

'Wait, Anborn,' said Faramir. 'This is a harder matter than it seems. 

What have you to say now, Frodo? Why should we spare? ’ 

'The creature is wretched and hungry,’ said Frodo, 'and unaware of his 
danger. And Gandalf, your Mithrandir, he would have bidden you not to slay 
him for that reason, and for others. He forbade the Elves to do so. I do not 
know clearly why, and of what I guess I cannot speak openly out here. But 
this creature is in some way bound up with my errand. Until you found us and 
took us, he was my guide.' 

'Your guide! ' said Faramir. 'The matter becomes ever stranger. I would 
do much for you, Frodo, but this I cannot grant: to let this sly wanderer go 
free at his own will from here, to join you later if it please him, or to be 
caught by Ores and tell all he knows under threat of pain. He must be slain 
or taken. Slain, if he be not taken very swiftly. But how can this slippery 
thing of many guises be caught, save by a feathered shaft? ’ 

'Let me go down quietly to him,’ said Frodo. 'You may keep your bows 
bent, and shoot me at least, if I fail. I shall not run away.’ 

'Go then and be swift! ’ said Faramir. 'If he comes off alive, he 
should be your faithful servant for the rest of his unhappy days. Lead Frodo 
down to the bank, Anborn, and go softly. The thing has a nose and ears. Give 
me your bow.' 

Anborn grunted and led the way down the winding stair to the landing, 
and then up the other stair, until at last they came to a narrow opening 
shrouded with thick bushes. Passing silently through, Frodo found himself on 
the top of the southern bank above the pool. It was now dark and the falls 
were pale and grey, reflecting only the lingering moonlight of the western 
sky. He could not see Gollum. He went forward a short way and Anborn 
came 

softly behind him. 

'Goon! ' he breathed in Frodo's ear. 'Have a care to your right. If 
you fall in the pool, then no one but your fishing friend can help you. And 
forget not that there are bowmen near at hand, though you may not see them.’ 




Frodo crept forward, using his hands Gollum-like to feel his way and to 
steady himself. The rocks were for the most part flat and smooth but 
slippery. He halted listening. At first he could hear no sound but the 
unceasing rush of the fall behind him. Then presently he heard, not far 
ahead, a hissing murmur. 

’Fissh, nice fissh. White Face has vanished, my precious, at last, yes. 

Now we can eat fish in peace. No, not in peace, precious. For Precious is 
lost; yes, lost. Dirty hobbits, nasty hobbits. Gone and left us, gollum; and 
Precious is gone. Only poor Smjagol all alone. No Precious. Nasty Men, 
they'll take it, steal my Precious. Thieves. We hates them. Fissh, nice 
fissh: Makes us strong. Makes eyes bright, fingers tight, yes. Throttle 
them, precious. Throttle them all, yes, if we gets chances. Nice fissh. Nice 
fissh! ' 

So it went on, almost as unceasing as the waterfall, only interrupted 
by a faint noise of slavering and gurgling. Frodo shivered, listening with 
pity and disgust. He wished it would stop, and that he never need hear that 
voice again. Anborn was not far behind. He could creep back and ask him to 
get the huntsmen to shoot. They would probably get close enough, while 
Gollum was gorging and off his guard. Only one true shot, and Frodo would be 
rid of the miserable voice for ever. But no, Gollum had a claim on him now. 
The servant has a claim on the master for service, even service in fear. 

They would have foundered in the Dead Marshes but for Gollum. Frodo 
knew, 

too, somehow, quite clearly that Gandalf would not have wished it. 

'Smjagol! ' he said softly. 

'Fissh, nice fissh,’ said the voice. 

'Smjagol! ’ he said, a little louder. The voice stopped. 

'Smjagol, Master has come to look for you. Master is here. Come, 
Smjagol! ' There was no answer but a soft hiss, as of intaken breath. 

'Come, Smjagol! ' said Frodo. 'We are in danger. Men will kill you, if 
they find you here. Come quickly, if you wish to escape death. Come to 
Master!' 

'No!' said the voice. 'Not nice Master. Leaves poor Smjagol and goes 
with new friends. Master can wait. Smjagol hasn't finished.' 

'There's no time,' said Frodo. 'Bring fish with you. Come! ’ 

'No! Must finish fish.' 

'Smjagol! ' said Frodo desperately. 'Precious will be angry. I shall 




take Precious, and I shall say: make him swallow the bones and choke. Never 
taste fish again. Come, Precious is waiting! ' 

There was a sharp hiss. Presently out of the darkness Gollum came 
crawling on all fours, like an erring dog called to heel. He had a 
half-eaten fish in his mouth and another in his hand. He came close to 
Frodo, almost nose to nose, and sniffed at him. His pale eyes were shining. 
Then he took the fish out of his mouth and stood up. 

'Nice Master! ' he whispered. 'Nice hobbit, come back to poor Smjagol. 
Good Smjagol comes. Now let's go, go quickly, yes. Through the trees, while 
the Faces are dark. Yes, come let's go! ' 

'Yes, we'll go soon,' said Frodo. 'But not at once. I will go with you 
as I promised. I promise again. But not now. You are not safe yet. I will 
save you, but you must trust me.’ 

'We must trust Master? ’ said Gollum doubtfully. 'Why? Why not go at 
once? Where is the other one, the cross rude hobbit? Where is he?' 

'Away up there,' said Frodo, pointing to the waterfall. 'I am not going 
without him. We must go back to him.' His heart sank. This was too much like 
trickery. He did not really fear that Faramir would allow Gollum to be 
killed, but he would probably make him prisoner and bind him; and certainly 
what Frodo did would seem a treachery to the poor treacherous creature. It 
would probably be impossible ever to make him understand or believe that 
Frodo had saved his life in the only way he could. What else could he do? — 
to keep faith, as near as might be, with both sides. 'Come!' he said. 'Or 
the Precious will be angry. We are going back now, up the stream. Go on, go 
on, you go in front! ’ 

Gollum crawled along close to the brink for a little way, snuffling and 
suspicious. Presently he stopped and raised his head. 'Something's there! ' 
he said. 'Not a hobbit.’ Suddenly he turned back. A green light was 
flickering in his bulging eyes. 'Masster, masster!' he hissed. 'Wicked! 
Tricksy! False!' He spat and stretched out his long arms with white snapping 
fingers. 

At that moment the great black shape of Anborn loomed up behind him and 
came down on him. A large strong hand took him in the nape of the neck and 
pinned him. He twisted round like lightning, all wet and slimy as he was, 
wriggling like an eel, biting and scratching like a cat. But two more men 
came up out of the shadows. 

'Hold still! ' said one. 'Or we'll stick you as full of pins as a 




hedgehog. Hold still!' 

Gollum went limp, and began to whine and weep. They tied him, none too 
gently. 

'Easy, easy! ' said Frodo. 'He has no strength to match you. Don't hurt 
him, if you can help it. He'll be quieter, if you don't. Smjagol! They won't 
hurt you. I'll go with you, and you shall come to no harm. Not unless they 
kill me too. Trust Master! ' 

Gollum turned and spat at him. The men picked him up, put a hood over 
his eyes, and carried him off. 

Frodo followed them, feeling very wretched. They went through the 
opening behind the bushes, and back, down the stairs and passages, into the 
cave. Two or three torches had been lit. Men were stirring. Sam was there, 
and he gave a queer look at the limp bundle that the men carried. 'Got him?’ 
he said to Frodo. 

'Yes. Well no, I didn't get him. He came to me, because he trusted me 
at first, I'm afraid. I did not want him tied up like this. I hope it will 
be all right; but I hate the whole business.' 

'So do I,’ said Sam. 'And nothing will ever be all right where that 
piece of misery is.’ 

A man came and beckoned to the hobbits, and took them to the recess at 
the back of the cave. Faramir was sitting there in his chair, and the lamp 
had been rekindled in its niche above his head. He signed to them to sit 
down on the stools beside him. 'Bring wine for the guests,' he said. 'And 
bring the prisoner to me.' 

The wine was brought, and then Anborn came carrying Gollum. He 
removed 

the cover from Gollum's head and set him on his feet standing behind him to 
support him. Gollum blinked, hooding the malice of his eyes with their heavy 
pale lids. A very miserable creature he looked, dripping and dank, smelling 
of fish (he still clutched one in his hand); his sparse locks were hanging 
like rank weed over his bony brows, his nose was snivelling. 

'Foose us! Foose us! ’ he said. 'The cord hurts us, yes it does, it 
hurts us, and we've done nothing.' 

'Nothing? ' said Faramir, looking at the wretched creature with a keen 
glance, but without any expression in his face either of anger, or pity, or 
wonder. 'Nothing? Have you never done anything worthy of binding or of 



worse 




punishment? However, that is not for me to judge, happily. But tonight you 
have come where it is death to come. The fish of this pool are dearly 
bought.' 

Gollum dropped the fish from his hand. 'Don't want fish,' he said. 

'The price is not set on the fish,' said Faramir. 'Only to come here 
and look on the pool bears the penalty of death. I have spared you so far at 
the prayer of Frodo here, who says that of him at least you have deserved 
some thanks. But you must also satisfy me. What is your name? Whence do 
you 

come? And whither do you go? What is your business? ’ 

'We are lost, lost,' said Gollum. 'No name, no business, no Precious, 
nothing. Only empty. Only hungry; yes, we are hungry. A few little fishes, 
nasty bony little fishes, for a poor creature, and they say death. So wise 
they are; so just, so very just.' 

'Not very wise,' said Faramir. 'But just: yes perhaps, as just as our 
little wisdom allows. Unloose him Frodo! ' Faramir took a small nail -knife 
from his belt and handed it to Frodo. Gollum misunderstanding the gesture, 
squealed and fell down. 

'Now, Smjagol! ' said Frodo. 'You must trust me. I will not desert you. 
Answer truthfully, if you can. It will do you good not harm.' He cut the 
cords on Gollum's wrists and ankles and raised him to his feet. 

'Come hither! ' said Faramir. 'Look at me! Do you know the name of this 
place? Have you been here before? ’ 

Slowly Gollum raised his eyes and looked unwillingly into Faramir's. 

All light went out of them, and they stared bleak and pale for a moment into 
the clear unwavering eyes of the man of Gondor. There was a still silence. 
Then Gollum dropped his head and shrank down, until he was squatting on the 
floor, shivering. 'We doesn't know and we doesn't want to know,' he 
whimpered. 'Never came here; never come again.' 

'There are locked doors and closed windows in your mind, and dark rooms 
behind them,' said Faramir. 'But in this I judge that you speak the truth. 

It is well for you. What oath will you swear never to return; and never to 
lead any living creature hither by word or sign?’ 

'Master knows,' said Gollum with a sidelong glance at Frodo. 'Yes, he 
knows. We will promise Master, if he saves us. We'll promise to It, yes.' He 
crawled to Frodo's feet. 'Save us, nice Master! ' he whined. 'Smjagol 
promises to Precious, promises faithfully. Never come again, never speak, no 




never! No, precious, no!' 

'Are you satisfied? ' said Faramir. 

'Yes,' said Frodo. 'At least, you must either accept this promise or 
carry out your law. You will get no more. But I promised that if he came to 
me, he should not be harmed. And I would not be proved faithless.' 

Faramir sat for a moment in thought. 'Very good,' he said at last. 'I 
surrender you to your master, to Frodo son of Drogo. Let him declare what he 
will do with you ! ’ 

'But, Lord Faramir,' said Frodo bowing, 'you have not yet declared your 
will concerning the said Frodo, and until that is made known, he cannot 
shape his plans for himself or his companions. Your judgement was postponed 
until the morning; but that is now at hand.’ 

'Then I will declare my doom,' said Faramir. 'As for you, Frodo, in so 
far as lies in me under higher authority, I declare you free in the realm 
of, Gondor to the furthest of its ancient bounds; save only that neither you 
nor any that go with you have leave to come to this place unbidden. This 
doom shall stand for a year and a day, and then cease, unless you shall 
before that term come to Minas Tirith and present yourself to the Lord and 
Steward of the City. Then I will entreat him to confirm what I have done and 
to make it lifelong. In the meantime, whomsoever you take under your 
protection shall be under my protection and under the shield of Gondor. Are 
you answered? ’ 

Frodo bowed low. ’I am answered,' he said, 'and I place myself at your 
service, if that is of any worth to one so high and honourable.’ 

'It is of great worth,' said Faramir. 'And now, do you take this 
creature, this Smjagol, under your protection? ' 

'I do take Smjagol under my protection,' said Frodo. Sam sighed 
audibly; and not at the courtesies, of which, as any hobbit would, he 
thoroughly approved. Indeed in the Shire such a matter would have required a 
great many more words and bows. 

'Then I say to you,' said Faramir, turning to Gollum, 'you are under 
doom of death; but while you walk with Frodo you are safe for our part. Yet 
if ever you be found by any man of Gondor astray without him, the doom shall 
fall. And may death find you swiftly, within Gondor or without, if you do 
not well serve him. Now answer me: whither would you go? You were his 
guide, 

he says. Whither were you leading him? ' Gollum made no reply. 




'This I will not have secret,' said Faramir. 'Answer me, or I will 
reverse my judgement! ’ Still Gollum did not answer. 

'I will answer for him,' said Frodo. 'He brought me to the Black Gate, 
as I asked; but it was impassable.' 

'There is no open gate into the Nameless Land,’ said Faramir. 

'Seeing this, we turned aside and came by the Southward road ’ Frodo 
continued; 'for he said that there is, or there may be, a path near to Minas 
Ithil . ' 

'Minas Morgul,' said Faramir. 

'I do not know clearly,' said Frodo; 'but the path climbs, I think, up 
into the mountains on the northern side of that vale where the old city 
stands. It goes up to a high cleft and so down to — that which is beyond.’ 

'Do you know the name of that high pass? ’ said Faramir. 

'No,' said Frodo. 

'It is called Cirith Ungol.' Gollum hissed sharply and began muttering 
to himself. 'Is not that its name? ’ said Faramir turning to him. 

'No! ' said Gollum, and then he squealed, as if something had stabbed 
him. 'Yes, yes, we heard the name once. But what does the name matter to us? 
Master says he must get in. So we must try some way. There is no other way 
to try, no.' 

'No other way? 'said Faramir. 'How do you know that? And who has 
explored all the confines of that dark realm? ' He looked long and 
thoughtfully at Gollum. Presently he spoke again. 'Take this creature away, 
Anborn. Treat him gently, but watch him. And do not you, Smjagol, try to 
dive into the falls. The rocks have such teeth there as would slay you 
before your time. Leave us now and take your fish! ' 

Anborn went out and Gollum went cringing before him. The curtain was 
drawn across the recess. 

'Frodo, I think you do very unwisely in this,' said Faramir. 'I do not 
think you should go with this creature. It is wicked.' 

'No, not altogether wicked,' said Frodo. 

'Not wholly, perhaps,' said Faramir; 'but malice eats it like a canker, 
and the evil is growing. He will lead you to no good. If you will part with 
him, I will give him safe-conduct and guidance to any point on the borders 
of Gondor that he may name.' 

'He would not take it,' said Frodo. 'He would follow after me as he 
long has done. And I have promised many times to take him under my 




protection and to go where he led. You would not ask me to break faith with 
him?' 

'No,' said Faramir. 'But my heart would. For it seems less evil to 
counsel another man to break troth than to do so oneself, especially if one 
sees a friend bound unwitting to his own harm. But no — if he will go with 
you, you must now endure him. But I do not think you are holden to go to 
Cirith Ungol, of which he has told you less than he knows. That much I 
perceived clearly in his mind. Do not go to Cirith Ungol!' 

'Where then shall I go? ' said Frodo. 'Back to the Black Gate and 
deliver myself up to the guard? What do you know against this place that 
makes its name so dreadful? ’ 

'Nothing certain,' said Faramir. 'We of Gondor do not ever pass east of 
the Road in these days, and none of us younger men has ever done so, nor has 
any of us set foot upon the Mountains of Shadow. Of them we know only old 
report and the rumour of bygone days. But there is some dark terror that 
dwells in the passes above Minas Morgul. If Cirith Ungol is named, old men 
and masters of lore will blanch and fall silent. 

,The valley of Minas Morgul passed into evil very long ago, and it was 
a menace and a dread while the banished Enemy dwelt yet far away, and 
Ithilien was still for the most part in our keeping. As you know, that city 
was once a strong place, proud and fair, Minas Ithil, the twin sister of our 
own city. But it was taken by fell men whom the Enemy in his first strength 
had dominated, and who wandered homeless and masterless after his fall. It 
is said that their lords were men of N®menor who had fallen into dark 
wickedness; to them the Enemy had given rings of power, and he had 
devoured 

them: living ghosts they were become, terrible and evil. After his going 
they took Minas Ithil and dwelt there, and they filled it, and all the 
valley about, with decay: it seemed empty and was not so, for a shapeless 
fear lived within the ruined walls. Nine Lords there were, and after the 
return of their Master, which they aided and prepared in secret, they grew 
strong again. Then the Nine Riders issued forth from the gates of horror, 
and we could not withstand them. Do not approach their citadel. You will be 
espied. It is a place of sleepless malice, full of lidless eyes. Do not go 
that way! ' 

'But where else will you direct me? ' said Frodo. 'You cannot yourself, 
you say, guide me to the mountains, nor over them. But over the mountains I 




am bound, by solemn undertaking to the Council, to find a way or perish in 
the seeking. And if I turn back, refusing the road in its bitter end, where 
then shall I go among Elves or Men? Would you have me come to Gondor 
with 

this Thing, the Thing that drove your brother mad with desire? What spell 
would it work in Minas Tirith? Shall there be two cities of Minas Morgul, 
grinning at each other across a dead land filled with rottenness? ' 

'I would not have it so,' said Faramir. 

'Then what would you have me do? ' 

'I know not. Only I would not have you go to death or to torment. And I 
do not think that Mithrandir would have chosen this way.' 

'Yet since he is gone, I must take such paths as I can find. And there 
is no time for long searching,' said Frodo. 

'It is a hard doom and a hopeless errand,' said Faramir. 'But at the 
least, remember my warning: beware of this guide, Smjagol. He has done 
murder before now. I read it in him.' He sighed. 

'Well, so we meet and part, Frodo son of Drogo. You have no need of 
soft words: I do not hope to see you again on any other day under this Sun. 
But you shall go now with my blessing upon you, and upon all your people. 
Rest a little while food is prepared for you. 

’I would gladly learn how this creeping Smjagol became possessed of the 
Thing of which we speak, and how he lost it, but I will not trouble you now. 
If ever beyond hope you return to the lands of the living and we retell our 
tales, sitting by a wall in the sun, laughing at old grief, you shall tell 
me then. Until that time, or some other time beyond the vision of the 
Seeing-stones of N®menor, farewell! ’ 

He rose and bowed low to Frodo, and drawing the curtain passed out into 
the cave. 




Chapter 7. Journey to the Cross-roads 



Frodo and Sam returned to their beds and lay there in silence resting 
for a little, while men bestirred themselves and the business of the day 
began. After a while water was brought to them, and then they were led to a 
table where food was set for three. Faramir broke his fast with them. He had 
not slept since the battle on the day before, yet he did not look weary. 

When they had finished they stood up. 'May no hunger trouble you on the 
road,' said Faramir. 'You have little provision, but some small store of 
food fit for travellers I have ordered to be stowed in your packs. You will 
have no lack of water as you walk in Ithilien, but do not drink of any 
stream that flows from Imlad Morgul, the Valley of Living Death. This also I 
must tell you. My scouts and watchers have all returned, even some that have 
crept within sight of the Morannon. They all find a strange thing. The land 
is empty. Nothing is on the road, and no sound of foot, or horn, or 
bowstring is anywhere to be heard. A waiting silence broods above the 
Nameless Land. I do not know what this portends. But the time draws swiftly 
to some great conclusion. Storm is coming. Hasten while you may! If you are 
ready, let us go. The Sun will soon rise above the shadow.’ 

The hobbits' packs were brought to them (a little heavier than they had 
been), and also two stout staves of polished wood, shod with iron, and with 
carven heads through which ran plaited leathern thongs. 

'I have no fitting gifts to give you at our parting,' said Faramir; 

'but take these staves. They may be of service to those who walk or climb in 
the wild. The men of the White Mountains use them; though these have been 
cut down to your height and newly shod. They are made of the fair tree 
lebethron, beloved of the woodwrights of Gondor, and a virtue has been set 
upon them of finding and returning. May that virtue not wholly fail under 
the Shadow into which you go!’ 

The hobbits bowed low. 'Most gracious host,' said Frodo, 'it was said 
to me by Elrond Halfelven that I should find friendship upon the way, secret 
and unlooked for. Certainly I looked for no such friendship as you have 
shown. To have found it turns evil to great good.' 

Now they made ready to depart. Gollum was brought out of some corner or 
hiding-hole, and he seemed better pleased with himself than he had been, 




though he kept close to Frodo and avoided the glance of Faramir. 

'Your guide must be blindfolded,' said Faramir, 'but you and your 
servant Samwise I release from this, if you wish.' 

Gollum squealed, and squirmed, and clutched at Frodo, when they came to 
bind his eyes; and Frodo said: 'Blindfold us all three, and cover up my eyes 
first, and then perhaps he will see that no harm is meant.' This was done, 
and they were led from the cave of Henneth Annyn. After they had passed the 
passages and stairs they felt the cool morning air, fresh and sweet, about 
them. Still blind they went on for some little time, up and then gently 
down. At last the voice of Faramir ordered them to be uncovered. 

They stood under the boughs of the woods again. No noise of the falls 
could be heard, for a long southward slope lay now between them and the 
ravine in which the stream flowed. To the west they could see light through 
the trees, as if the world came there to a sudden end, at a brink looking 
out only on to sky. 

'Here is the last parting of our ways,' said Faramir. 'If you take my 
counsel, you will not turn eastward yet. Go straight on, for thus you will 
have the cover of the woodland for many miles. On your west is an edge where 
the land falls into the great vales, sometimes suddenly and sheer, sometimes 
in long hillsides. Keep near to this edge and the skirts of the forest. In 
the beginning of your journey you may walk under daylight, I think. The land 
dreams in a false peace, and for a while all evil is withdrawn. Fare you 
well, while you may!' 

He embraced the hobbits then, after the manner of his people, stooping, 
and placing his hands upon their shoulders, and kissing their foreheads. 'Go 
with the good will of all good men!' he said. 

They bowed to the ground. Then he turned and without looking back he 
left them and went to his two guards that stood at a little distance away. 

They marvelled to see with what speed these green -clad men now moved, 
vanishing almost in the twinkling of an eye. The forest where Faramir had 
stood seemed empty and drear, as if a dream had passed. 

Frodo sighed and turned back southward. As if to mark his disregard of 
all such courtesy, Gollum was scrabbling in the mould at the foot of a tree. 
'Hungry again already?' thought Sam. 'Well, now for it again!’ 

'Have they gone at last? ' said Gollum. 'Nassty wicked Men! Smjagol's 
neck still hurts him, yes it does. Let's go! ' 

'Yes, let us go,' said Frodo. 'But if you can only speak ill of those 




who showed you mercy, keep silent! ' 

'Nice Master! ' said Gollum. 'Smjagol was only joking. Always forgives, 
he does, yes, yes, even nice Master's little trickses. Oh yes, nice Master, 
nice Smjagol! ' 

Frodo and Sam did not answer. Hoisting their packs and taking their 
staves in hand, they passed on into the woods of Ithilien. 

Twice that day they rested and took a little of the food provided by 
Faramir: dried fruits and salted meat, enough for many days; and bread 
enough to last while it was still fresh. Gollum ate nothing. 

The sun rose and passed overhead unseen, and began to sink, and the 
light through the trees to the west grew golden; and always they walked in 
cool green shadow, and all about them was silence. The birds seemed all to 
have flown away or to have fallen dumb. 

Darkness came early to the silent woods, and before the fall of night 
they halted, weary, for they had walked seven leagues or more from Henneth 
Annyn. Frodo lay and slept away the night on the deep mould beneath an 
ancient tree. Sam beside him was more uneasy: he woke many times, but there 
was never a sign of Gollum, who had slipped off as soon as the others had 
settled to rest. Whether he had slept by himself in some hole nearby, or had 
wandered restlessly prowling through the night, he did not say; but he 
returned with the first glimmer of light, and roused his companions. 

'Must get up, yes they must!’ he said. 'Long ways to go still, south 
and east. Hobbits must make haste!' 

That day passed much as the day before had gone, except that the 
silence seemed deeper; the air grew heavy, and it began to be stifling under 
the trees. It felt as if thunder was brewing. Gollum often paused, sniffing 
the air, and then he would mutter to himself and urge them to greater speed. 

As the third stage of their day's march drew on and afternoon waned, 
the forest opened out, and the trees became larger and more scattered. Great 
ilexes of huge girth stood dark and solemn in wide glades with here and 
there among them hoary ash-trees, and giant oaks just putting out their 
brown-green buds. About them lay long launds of green grass dappled with 
celandine and anemones, white and blue, now folded for sleep; and there were 
acres populous with the leaves of woodland hyacinths: already their sleek 
bell-stems were thrusting through the mould. No living creature, beast or 
bird, was to be seen, but in these open places Gollum grew afraid, and they 
walked now with caution, flitting from one long shadow to another. 




Light was fading fast when they came to the forest-end. There they sat 
under an old gnarled oak that sent its roots twisting like snakes down a 
steep crumbling bank. A deep dim valley lay before them. On its further side 
the woods gathered again, blue and grey under the sullen evening, and 
marched on southwards. To the right the Mountains of Gondor glowed, 
remote 

in the West, under a fire-flecked sky. To the left lay darkness: the 
towering walls of Mordor; and out of that darkness the long valley came, 
falling steeply in an ever-widening trough towards the Anduin. At its bottom 
ran a hurrying stream: Frodo could hear its stony voice coming up through 
the silence; and beside it on the hither side a road went winding down like 
a pale ribbon, down into chill grey mists that no gleam of sunset touched. 
There it seemed to Frodo that he descried far off, floating as it were on a 
shadowy sea, the high dim tops and broken pinnacles of old towers forlorn 
and dark. 

Fie turned to Gollum. 'Do you know where we are? ' he said. 

'Yes, Master. Dangerous places. This is the road from the Tower of the 
Moon, Master, down to the ruined city by the shores of the River. The ruined 
city, yes, very nasty place, full of enemies. We shouldn't have taken Men's 
advice. Hobbits have come a long way out of the path. Must go east now, away 
up there.' He waved his skinny arm towards the darkling mountains. 'And we 
can't use this road. Oh no! Cruel peoples come this way, down from the 
Tower.' 

Frodo looked down on to the road. At any rate nothing was moving on it 
now. It appeared lonely and forsaken, running down to empty ruins in the 
mist. But there was an evil feeling in the air, as if things might indeed be 
passing up and down that eyes could not see. Frodo shuddered as he looked 
again at the distant pinnacles now dwindling into night, and the sound of 
the water seemed cold and cruel: the voice of Morgulduin, the polluted 
stream that flowed from the Valley of the Wraiths. 

'What shall we do? ' he said. 'We have walked long and far. Shall we 
look for some place in the woods behind where we can lie hidden? ' 

'No good hiding in the dark,' said Gollum. 'It's in day that hobbits 
must hide now, yes in day.' 

'Oh come! ' said Sam. 'We must rest for a bit, even if we get up again 
in the middle of the night. There'll still be hours of dark then time enough 
for you to take us a long march, if you know the way.' 




Gollum reluctantly agreed to this, and he turned back towards the 
trees, working eastward for a while along the straggling edges of the wood. 

He would not rest on the ground so near the evil road, and after some debate 
they all climbed up into the crotch of a large holm-oak, whose thick 
branches springing together from the trunk made a good hiding-place and a 
fairly comfortable refuge. Night fell and it grew altogether dark under the 
canopy of the tree. Frodo and Sam drank a little water and ate some bread 
and dried fruit, but Gollum at once curled up and went to sleep. The hobbits 
did not shut their eyes. 

It must have been a little after midnight when Gollum woke up: suddenly 
they were aware of his pale eyes unlidded gleaming at them. He listened and 
sniffed, which seemed, as they had noticed before, his usual method of 
discovering the time of night. 

'Are we rested? Have we had beautiful sleep?' he said. 'Let's go!' 

'We aren't, and we haven't,' growled Sam. 'But we'll go if we must.' 

Gollum dropped at once from the branches of the tree on to all fours, 
and the hobbits followed more slowly. 

As soon as they were down they went on again with Gollum leading, 
eastwards, up the dark sloping land. They could see little, for the night 
was now so deep that they were hardly aware of the stems of trees before 
they stumbled against them. The ground became more broken and walking 
was 

more difficult, but Gollum seemed in no way troubled. He led them through 
thickets and wastes of brambles; sometimes round the lip of a deep cleft or 
dark pit, sometimes down into black bush-shrouded hollows and out again; but 
if ever they went a little downward, always the further slope was longer and 
steeper. They were climbing steadily. At their first halt they looked back, 
and they could dimly perceive the roofs of the forest they had left behind 
lying like a vast dense shadow, a darker night under the dark blank sky. 
There seemed to be a great blackness looming slowly out of the East, eating 
up the faint blurred stars. Later the sinking moon escaped from the pursuing 
cloud, but it was ringed all about with a sickly yellow glare. 

At last Gollum turned to the hobbits. 'Day soon,' he said. 'Hobbits 
must hurry. Not safe to stay in the open in these places. Make haste! ' 

He quickened his pace, and they followed him wearily. Soon they began 
to climb up on to a great hog-back of land. For the most part it was covered 
with a thick growth of gorse and whortleberry, and low tough thorns, though 




here and there clearings opened, the scars of recent fires. The gorse-bushes 
became more frequent as they got nearer the top; very old and tall they 
were, gaunt and leggy below but thick above, and already putting out yellow 
flowers that glimmered in the gloom and gave a faint sweet scent. So tall 
were the spiny thickets that the hobbits could walk upright under them, 
passing through long dry aisles carpeted with a deep prickly mould. 

On the further edge of this broad hill-back they stayed their march and 
crawled for hiding underneath a tangled knot of thorns. Their twisted 
boughs, stooping to the ground, were overridden by a clambering maze of old 
briars. Deep inside there was a hollow hall, raftered with dead branch and 
bramble, and roofed with the first leaves and shoots of spring. There they 
lay for a while, too tired yet to eat; and peering out through the holes in 
the covert they watched for the slow growth of day. 

But no day came, only a dead brown twilight. In the East there was a 
dull red glare under the lowering cloud: it was not the red of dawn. Across 
the tumbled lands between, the mountains of the Ephel D®ath frowned at 
them, 

black and shapeless below where night lay thick and did not pass away, above 
with jagged tops and edges outlined hard and menacing against the fiery 
glow. Away to their right a great shoulder of the mountains stood out, dark 
and black amid the shadows, thrusting westward. 

'Which way do we go from here?' asked Frodo. 'Is that the opening of-of 
the Morgul Valley, away over there beyond that black mass?’ 

'Need we think about it yet?’ said Sam, 'Surely we're not going to move 
any more today, if day it is?' 

'Perhaps not, perhaps not,’ said Gollum. 'But we must go soon, to the 
Cross-roads. Yes, to the Cross-roads. That's the way over there yes, 
Master.' 

The red glare over Mordor died away. The twilight deepened as great 
vapours rose in the East and crawled above them. Frodo and Sam took a little 
food and then lay down, but Gollum was restless. He would not eat any of 
their food, but he drank a little water and then crawled about under the 
bushes, sniffing and muttering. Then, suddenly he disappeared. 

'Off hunting, I suppose,' said Sam and yawned. It was his turn to sleep 
first, and he was soon deep in a dream. He thought he was back in the Bag 
End garden looking for something; but he had a heavy pack on his back, which 
made him stoop. It all seemed very weedy and rank somehow, and thorns and 




bracken were invading the beds down near the bottom hedge. 

'A job of work for me, I can see; but I'm so tired,' he kept on saying. 
Presently he remembered what he was looking for. 'My pipe!' he said, and 
with that he woke up. 

'Silly!' he said to himself, as he opened his eyes and wondered why he 
was lying down under the hedge. 'It's in your pack all the time!' Then he 
realized, first that the pipe might be in his pack but he had no leaf, and 
next that he was hundreds of miles from Bag End. He sat up. It seemed to be 
almost dark. Why had his master let him sleep on out of turn, right on till 
evening? 

'Haven't you had no sleep, Mr. Frodo?' he said. 'What's the time? Seems 
to be getting late!' 

'No it isn't,' said Frodo. 'But the day is getting darker instead of 
lighter: darker and darker. As far as I can tell, it isn't midday yet, and 
you've only slept for about three hours.' 

'I wonder what's up,' said Sam. 'Is there a storm coming? If so it's 
going to be the worst there ever was. We shall wish we were down a deep 
hole, not just stuck under a hedge.' He listened. 'What's that? Thunder, or 
drums, or what is it? ' 

'I don't know,' said Frodo. 'It's been going on for a good while now. 
Sometimes the ground seems to tremble, sometimes it seems to be the heavy 
air throbbing in your ears.' 

Sam looked round. 'Where's Gollum? ' he said. 'Hasn't he come back 
yet?' 

'No,' said Frodo. 'There's not been a sign or sound of him.' 

'Well, I can't abide him,' said Sam. 'In fact, I've never taken 
anything on a journey that I'd have been less sorry to lose on the way. But 
it would be just like him, after coming all these miles, to go and get lost 
now, just when we shall need him most — that is, if he's ever going to be 
any use, which I doubt.' 

'You forget the Marshes,' said Frodo. I hope nothing has happened to 
him.' 

'And I hope he's up to no tricks. And anyway I hope he doesn't fall 
into other hands, as you might say. Because if he does, we shall soon be in 
for trouble.' 

At that moment a rolling and rumbling noise was heard again, louder now 
and deeper. The ground seemed to quiver under their feet. 'I think we are in 




for trouble anyhow,’ said Frodo. 'I'm afraid our journey is drawing to an 
end.’ 

’Maybe,’ said Sam; 'but where there's life there's hope , as my Gaffer 
used to say; and need of vittles, as he mostway s used to add. You have a 
bite, Mr. Frodo, and then a bit of sleep.’ 

The afternoon, as Sam supposed it must be called, wore on. Looking out 
from the covert he could see only a dun, shadowless world, fading slowly 
into a featureless, colourless gloom. It felt stifling but not warm. Frodo 
slept unquietly, turning and tossing, and sometimes murmuring. Twice Sam 
thought he heard him speaking Gandalf s name. The time seemed to drag 
interminably. Suddenly Sam heard a hiss behind him, and there was Gollum 
on 

all fours, peering at them with gleaming eyes. 

'Wake up, wake up! Wake up, sleepies!’ he whispered. 'Wake up! No time 
to lose. We must go, yes, we must go at once. No time to lose!’ 

Sam stared at him suspiciously: he seemed frightened or excited. 'Go 
now? What’s your little game? It isn’t time yet. It can’t be tea-time even, 
leastways not in decent places where there is tea-time.’ 

'Silly! ’ hissed Gollum. 'We’re not in decent places. Time's running 
short, yes, running fast. No time to lose. We must go. Wake up. Master, wake 
u He clawed at Frodo; and Frodo, startled out of sleep, sat up suddenly and 
seized him by the arm. Gollum tore himself loose and backed away. 

'They mustn't be silly,' he hissed. 'We must go. No time to lose!’ And 
nothing more could they get out of him. Where he had been, and what he 
thought was brewing to make him in such a hurry, he would not say. Sam was 
filled with deep suspicion, and showed it; but Frodo gave no sign of what 
was passing in his mind. He sighed, hoisted his pack, and prepared to go out 
into the ever -gathering darkness. 

Very stealthily Gollum led them down the hillside, keeping under cover 
wherever it was possible, and running, almost bent to the ground, across any 
open space; but the light was now so dim that even a keen-eyed beast of the 
wild could scarcely have seen the hobbits, hooded, in their grey cloaks, nor 
heard them, walking as warily as the little people can. Without the crack of 
a twig or the rustle of a leaf they passed and vanished. 

For about an hour they went on, silently, in single file, oppressed by 
the gloom and by the absolute stillness of the land, broken only now and 
again by the faint rumbling as of thunder far away or drum-beats in some 




hollow of the hills. Down from their hiding-place they went, and then 
turning south they steered as straight a course as Gollum could find across 
a long broken slope that leaned up towards the mountains. Presently, not far 
ahead, looming up like a black wall, they saw a belt of trees. As they drew 
nearer they became aware that these were of vast size, very ancient it 
seemed, and still towering high, though their tops were gaunt and broken, as 
if tempest and lightning-blast had swept across them, but had failed to kill 
them or to shake their fathomless roots. 

The Cross-roads, yes,' whispered Gollum, the first words that had been 
spoken since they left their hiding-place. 'We must go that way.' Turning 
eastward now, he led them up the slope; and then suddenly there it was 
before them: the Southward Road, winding its way about the outer feet of the 
mountains, until presently it plunged into the great ring of trees. 

This is the only way,' whispered Gollum. 'No paths beyond the road. No 
paths. We must go to the Cross-roads. But make haste! Be silent! ' 

As furtively as scouts within the campment of their enemies, they crept 
down on to the road, and stole along its westward edge under the stony bank, 
grey as the stones themselves, and soft-footed as hunting cats. At length 
they reached the trees, and found that they stood in a great roofless ring, 
open in the middle to the sombre sky; and the spaces between their immense 
boles were like the great dark arches of some ruined hall. In the very 
centre four ways met. Behind them lay the road to the Morannon; before them 
it ran out again upon its long journey south; to their right the road from 
old Osgiliath came climbing up, and crossing, passed out eastward into 
darkness: the fourth way, the road they were to take. 

Standing there for a moment filled with dread Frodo became aware that a 
light was shining; he saw it glowing on Sam's face beside him. Turning 
towards it, he saw, beyond an arch of boughs, the road to Osgiliath running 
almost as straight as a stretched ribbon down, down, into the West. There, 
far away, beyond sad Gondor now overwhelmed in shade, the Sun was 
sinking, 

finding at last the hem of the great slow-rolling pall of cloud, and falling 
in an ominous fire towards the yet unsullied Sea. The brief glow fell upon a 
huge sitting figure, still and solemn as the great stone kings of Argonath. 

The years had gnawed it, and violent hands had maimed it. Its head was gone, 
and in its place was set in mockery a round rough-hewn stone, rudely painted 
by savage hands in the likeness of a grinning face with one large red eye in 




the midst of its forehead. Upon its knees and mighty chair, and all about 
the pedestal, were idle scrawls mixed with the foul symbols that the 
maggot-folk of Mordor used. 

Suddenly, caught by the level beams, Frodo saw the old king's head: it 
was lying rolled away by the roadside. 'Look, Sam!’ he cried, startled into 
speech. 'Look! The king has got a crown again!' 

The eyes were hollow and the carven beard was broken, but about the 
high stern forehead there was a coronal of silver and gold. A trailing plant 
with flowers like small white stars had bound itself across the brows as if 
in reverence for the fallen king, and in the crevices of his stony hair 
yellow stonecrop gleamed. 

'They cannot conquer for ever!' said Frodo. And then suddenly the brief 
glimpse was gone. The Sun dipped and vanished, and as if at the shuttering 
of a lamp, black night fell. 




Chapter 8 . The Stairs of Cirith Ungol 



Gollum was tugging at Frodo's cloak and hissing with fear and 
impatience. 'We must go,' he said. 'We mustn’t stand here. Make haste!’ 

Reluctantly Frodo turned his back on the West and followed as his guide 
led him, out into the darkness of the East. They left the ring of trees and 
crept along the road towards the mountains. This road, too, ran straight for 
a while, but soon it began to bend away southwards, until it came right 
under the great shoulder of rock that they had seen from the distance. Black 
and forbidding it loomed above them, darker than the dark sky behind. 
Crawling under its shadow the road went on, and rounding it sprang east 
again and began to climb steeply. 

Frodo and Sam were plodding along with heavy hearts, no longer able to 
care greatly about their peril. Frodo’s head was bowed; his burden was 
dragging him down again. As soon as the great Cross-roads had been passed, 
the weight of it, almost forgotten in Ithilien, had begun to grow once more. 
Now, feeling the way become steep before his feet, he looked wearily up; and 
then he saw it, even as Gollum had said that he would: the city of the 
Ringwraiths. He cowered against the stony bank. 

A long-tilted valley, a deep gulf of shadow, ran back far into the 
mountains. Upon the further side, some way within the valley's arms high on 
a rocky seat upon the black knees of the Ephel D®ath, stood the walls and 
tower of Minas Morgul. All was dark about it, earth and sky, but it was lit 
with light. Not the imprisoned moonlight welling through the marble walls of 
Minas Ithil long ago, Tower of the Moon, fair and radiant in the hollow of 
the hills. Paler indeed than the moon ailing in some slow eclipse was the 
light of it now, wavering and blowing like a noisome exhalation of decay, a 
corpse-light, a light that illuminated nothing. In the walls and tower 
windows showed, like countless black holes looking inward into emptiness; 
but the topmost course of the tower revolved slowly, first one way and then 
another, a huge ghostly head leering into the night. For a moment the three 
companions stood there, shrinking, staring up with unwilling eyes. Gollum 
was the first to recover. Again he pulled at their cloaks urgently, but he 
spoke no word. Almost he dragged them forward. Every step was reluctant, and 
time seemed to slow its pace, so that between the raising of a foot and the 




setting of it down minutes of loathing passed. 

So they came slowly to the white bridge. Here the road, gleaming 
faintly, passed over the stream in the midst of the valley, and went on, 
winding deviously up towards the city’s gate: a black mouth opening in the 
outer circle of the northward walls. Wide flats lay on either bank, shadowy 
meads filled with pale white flowers. Luminous these were too, beautiful and 
yet horrible of shape, like the demented forms in an uneasy dream; and they 
gave forth a faint sickening charnel-smell; an odour of rottenness filled 
the air. From mead to mead the bridge sprang. Figures stood there at its 
head, carven with cunning in forms human and bestial, but all corrupt and 
loathsome. The water flowing beneath was silent, and it steamed, but the 
vapour that rose from it, curling and twisting about the bridge, was deadly 
cold. Frodo felt his senses reeling and his mind darkening. Then suddenly, 
as if some force were at work other than his own will, he began to hurry, 
tottering forward, his groping hands held out, his head lolling from side to 
side. Both Sam and Gollum ran after him. Sam caught his master in his arms, 
as he stumbled and almost fell, right on the threshold of the bridge. 

'Not that way! No, not that way! ' whispered Gollum, but the breath 
between his teeth seemed to tear the heavy stillness like a whistle, and he 
cowered to the ground in terror. 

'Hold up, Mr. Frodo! ’ muttered Sam in Frodo’s ear. ’Come back! Not 
that way. Gollum says not, and for once I agree with him.’ 

Frodo passed his hand over his brow and wrenched his eyes away from the 
city on the hill. The luminous tower fascinated him, and he fought the 
desire that was on him to run up the gleaming road towards its gate. At last 
with an effort he turned back, and as he did so, he felt the Ring resisting 
him, dragging at the chain about his neck; and his eyes too, as he looked 
away, seemed for the moment to have been blinded. The darkness before him 
was impenetrable. 

Gollum, crawling on the ground like a frightened animal, was already 
vanishing into the gloom. Sam, supporting and guiding his stumbling master, 
followed after him as quickly as he could. Not far from the near bank of the 
stream there was a gap in the stone-wall beside the road. Through this they 
passed, and Sam saw that they were on a narrow path that gleamed faintly at 
first, as the main road did, until climbing above the meads of deadly 
flowers it faded and went dark, winding its crooked way up into the northern 
sides of the valley. 




Along this path the hobbits trudged, side by side, unable to see Gollum 
in front of them, except when he turned back to beckon them on. Then his 
eyes shone with a green-white light, reflecting the noisome Morgul-sheen 
perhaps, or kindled by some answering mood within. Of that deadly gleam and 
of the dark eyeholes Frodo and Sam were always conscious, ever glancing 
fearfully over their shoulders, and ever dragging their eyes back to find 
the darkening path. Slowly they laboured on. As they rose above the stench 
and vapours of the poisonous stream their breath became easier and their 
heads clearer; but now their limbs were deadly tired, as if they had walked 
all night under a burden, or had been swimming long against a heavy tide of 
water. At last they could go no further without a halt. 

Frodo stopped and sat down on a stone. They had now climbed up to the 
top of a great hump of bare rock. Ahead of them there was a bay in the 
valley -side, and round the head of this the path went on, no more than a 
wide ledge with a chasm on the right; across the sheer southward face of the 
mountain it crawled upwards, until it disappeared into the blackness above. 

'I must rest a while, Sam,' whispered Frodo. 'It's heavy on me, Sam 
lad, very heavy. I wonder how far I can carry it? Anyway I must rest before 
we venture on to that.' He pointed to the narrow way ahead. 

'Sssh! ssh! ' hissed Gollum hurrying back to them. 'Sssh! ' His fingers 
were on his lips and he shook his head urgently. Tugging at Frodo's sleeve, 
he pointed towards the path; but Frodo would not move. 

'Not yet,' he said, 'not yet.' Weariness and more than weariness 
oppressed him; it seemed as if a heavy spell was laid on his mind and body. 

'I must rest,’ he muttered. 

At this Gollum's fear and agitation became so great that he spoke 
again, hissing behind his hand, as if to keep the sound from unseen 
listeners in the air. 'Not here, no. Not rest here. Fools! Eyes can see us. 

When they come to the bridge they will see us. Come away! Climb, climb! 
Come! ' 

'Come, Mr. Frodo,' said Sam. 'He's right, again. We can't stay here.' 

'All right,' said Frodo in a remote voice, as of one speaking half 
asleep. 'I will try.' Wearily he got to his feet. 

But it was too late. At that moment the rock quivered and trembled 
beneath them. The great rumbling noise, louder than ever before, rolled in 
the ground and echoed in the mountains. Then with searing suddenness there 
came a great red flash. Far beyond the eastern mountains it leapt into the 




sky and splashed the lowering clouds with crimson. In that valley of shadow 
and cold deathly light it seemed unbearably violent and fierce. Peaks of 
stone and ridges like notched knives sprang out in staring black against the 
uprushing flame in Gorgoroth. Then came a great crack of thunder. 

And Minas Morgul answered. There was a flare of livid lightnings: forks 
of blue flame springing up from the tower and from the encircling hills into 
the sullen clouds. The earth groaned; and out of the city there came a cry. 
Mingled with harsh high voices as of birds of prey, and the shrill neighing 
of horses wild with rage and fear, there came a rending screech, shivering, 
rising swiftly to a piercing pitch beyond the range of hearing. The hobbits 
wheeled round towards it, and cast themselves down, holding their hands upon 
their ears. 

As the terrible cry ended, falling back through a long sickening wail 
to silence, Frodo slowly raised his head. Across the narrow valley, now 
almost on a level with his eyes, the walls of the evil city stood, and its 
cavernous gate, shaped like an open mouth with gleaming teeth, was gaping 
wide. And out of the gate an army came. 

All that host was clad in sable, dark as the night. Against the wan 
walls and the luminous pavement of the road Frodo could see them, small 
black figures in rank upon rank, marching swiftly and silently, passing 
outwards in an endless stream. Before them went a great cavalry of horsemen 
moving like ordered shadows, and at their head was one greater than all the 
rest: a Rider, all black, save that on his hooded head he had a helm like a 
crown that flickered with a perilous light. Now he was drawing near the 
bridge below, and Frodo's staring eyes followed him, unable to wink or to 
withdraw. Surely there was the Lord of the Nine Riders returned to earth to 
lead his ghastly host to battle? Here, yes here indeed was the haggard king 
whose cold hand had smitten down the Ring-bearer with his deadly knife. The 
old wound throbbed with pain and a great chill spread towards Frodo's heart. 

Even as these thoughts pierced him with dread and held him bound as 
with a spell, the Rider halted suddenly, right before the entrance of the 
bridge, and behind him all the host stood still. There was a pause, a dead 
silence. Maybe it was the Ring that called to the Wraith-lord, and for a 
moment he was troubled, sensing some other power within his valley. This way 
and that turned the dark head helmed and crowned with fear, sweeping the 
shadows with its unseen eyes. Frodo waited, like a bird at the approach of a 
snake, unable to move. And as he waited, he felt, more urgent than ever 




before, the command that he should put on the Ring. But great as the 
pressure was, he felt no inclination now to yield to it. He knew that the 
Ring would only betray him, and that he had not, even if he put it on, the 
power to face the Morgul-king-not yet. There was no longer any answer to 
that command in his own will, dismayed by terror though it was, and he felt 
only the beating upon him of a great power from outside. It took his hand, 
and as Frodo watched with his mind, not willing it but in suspense (as if he 
looked on some old story far away), it moved the hand inch by inch towards 
the chain upon his neck. Then his own will stirred; slowly it forced the 
hand back, and set it to find another thing, a thing lying hidden near his 
breast. Cold and hard it seemed as his grip closed on it: the phial of 
Galadriel, so long treasured, and almost forgotten till that hour. As he 
touched it, for a while all thought of the Ring was banished from his mind. 

He sighed and bent his head. 

At that moment the Wraith-king turned and spurred his horse and rode 
across the bridge, and all his dark host followed him. Maybe the elven-hoods 
defied his unseen eyes, and the mind of his small enemy; being strengthened, 
had turned aside his thought. But he was in haste. Already the hour had 
struck, and at his great Master's bidding he must march with war into the 
West. 

Soon he had passed, like a shadow into shadow, down the winding road, 
and behind him still the black ranks crossed the bridge. So great an army 
had never issued from that vale since the days of Isildur's might; no host 
so fell and strong in arms had yet assailed the fords of Anduin; and yet it 
was but one and not the greatest of the hosts that Mordor now sent forth. 

Frodo stirred. And suddenly his heart went out to Faramir. 'The storm 
has burst at last,' he thought. 'This great array of spears and swords is 
going to Osgiliath. Will Faramir get across in time? He guessed it, but did 
he know the hour? And who can now hold the fords when the King of the 
Nine 

Riders comes? And other armies will come. I am too late. All is lost. I 
tarried on the way. All is lost. Even if my errand is performed, no one will 
ever know. There will be no one I can tell. It will be in vain.' Overcome 
with weakness he wept. And still the host of Morgul crossed the bridge. 

Then at a great distance, as if it came out of memories of the Shire, 
some sunlit early morning, when the day called and doors were opening, he 
heard Sam's voice speaking. 'Wake up, Mr. Frodo! Wake up! ’ Had the voice 




added: 'Your breakfast is ready,' he would hardly have been surprised. 
Certainly Sam was urgent. 'Wake up, Mr. Frodo! They're gone,' he said. 

There was a dull clang. The gates of Minas Morgul had closed. The last 
rank of spears had vanished down the road. The tower still grinned across 
the valley, but the light was fading in it. The whole city was falling back 
into a dark brooding shade, and silence. Yet still it was filled with 
watchfulness. 

'Wake up, Mr. Frodo! They're gone, and we'd better go too. There's 
something still alive in that place, something with eyes, or a seeing mind, 
if you take me; and the longer we stay in one spot, the sooner it will get 
on to us. Come on, Mr. Frodo! ' 

Frodo raised his head, and then stood up. Despair had not left him, but 
the weakness had passed. He even smiled grimly, feeling now as clearly as a 
moment before he had felt the opposite, that what he had to do, he had to 
do, if he could, and that whether Faramir or Aragorn or Elrond or Galadriel 
or Gandalf or anyone else ever knew about it was beside the purpose. He took 
his staff in one hand and the phial in his other. When he saw that the clear 
light was already welling through his fingers, he thrust it into his bosom 
and held it against his heart. Then turning from the city of Morgul, now no 
more than a grey glimmer across a dark gulf, he prepared to take the upward 
road. 

Gollum, it seemed, had crawled off along the ledge into the darkness 
beyond, when the gates of Minas Morgul opened, leaving the hobbits where 
they lay. He now came creeping back, his teeth chattering and his fingers 
snapping. 'Foolish! Silly! ’ he hissed. 'Make haste! They mustn't think 
danger has passed. It hasn't. Make haste! ' 

They did not answer, but they followed him on to the climbing ledge. It 
was little to the liking of either of them, not even after facing so many 
other perils; but it did not last long. Soon the path reached a rounded 
angle where the mountain-side swelled out again, and there it suddenly 
entered a narrow opening in the rock. They had come to the first stair that 
Gollum had spoken of. The darkness was almost complete, and they could see 
nothing much beyond their hands' stretch; but Gollum's eyes shone pale, 
several feet above, as he turned back towards them. 

'Careful! ' he whispered. 'Steps. Lots of steps. Must be careful! ' 

Care was certainly needed. Frodo and Sam at first felt easier, having 
now a wall on either side, but the stairway was almost as steep as a ladder, 




and as they climbed up and up, they became more and more aware of the long 
black fall behind them. And the steps were narrow, spaced unevenly, and 
often treacherous: they were worn and smooth at the edges, and some were 
broken, and some cracked as foot was set upon them. The hobbits struggled 
on, until at last they were clinging with desperate fingers to the steps 
ahead, and forcing their aching knees to bend and straighten; and ever as 
the stair cut its way deeper into the sheer mountain the rocky walls rose 
higher and higher above their heads. 

At length, just as they felt that they could endure no more, they saw 
Gollum's eyes peering down at them again. 'We're up,’ he whispered. ’First 
stair's past. Clever hobbits to climb so high, very clever hobbits. Just a 
few more little steps and that's all, yes.' 

Dizzy and very tired Sam, and Frodo following him, crawled up the last 
step, and sat down rubbing their legs and knees. They were in a deep dark 
passage that seemed still to go up before them, though at a gentler slope 
and without steps. Gollum did not let them rest long. 

'There's another stair still,' he said. 'Much longer stair. Rest when 
we get to the top of next stair. Not yet.’ 

Sam groaned. ’Longer, did you say? ’ he asked. 

'Yes, yess, longer,' said Gollum. 'But not so difficult. Hobbits have 
climbed the Straight Stair. Next comes the Winding Stair.’ 

'And what after that? ' said Sam. 

'We shall see,' said Gollum softly. 'O yes, we shall see! ’ 

’I thought you said there was a tunnel,' said Sam. 'Isn't there a 
tunnel or something to go through? ' 

'O yes, there's a tunnel,' said Gollum. 'But hobbits can rest before 
they try that. If they get through that, they'll be nearly at the top. Very 
nearly, if they get through. O yes ! ' 

Frodo shivered. The climb had made him sweat, but now he felt cold and 
clammy, and there was a chill draught in the dark passage, blowing down from 
the invisible heights above. He got up and shook himself. 'Well, let's go 
on! 'he said. 'This is no place to sit in.’ 

The passage seemed to go on for miles, and always the chill air flowed 
over them, rising as they went on to a bitter wind. The mountains seemed to 
be trying with their deadly breath to daunt them, to turn them back from the 
secrets of the high places, or to blow them away into the darkness behind. 
They only knew that they had come to the end, when suddenly they felt no 




wall at their right hand. They could see very little. Great black shapeless 
masses and deep grey shadows loomed above them and about them, but now 
and 

again a dull red light flickered up under the lowering clouds, and for a 
moment they were aware of tall peaks, in front and on either side, like 
pillars holding up a vast sagging roof. They seemed to have climbed up many 
hundreds of feet, on to a wide shelf. A cliff was on their left and a chasm 
on their right. 

Gollum led the way close under the cliff. For the present they were no 
longer climbing, but the ground was now more broken and dangerous in the 
dark, and there were blocks and lumps of fallen stone in the way. Their 
going was slow and cautious. How many hours had passed since they had 
entered the Morgul Vale neither Sam nor Frodo could any longer guess. The 
night seemed endless. 

At length they were once more aware of a wall looming up, and once more 
a stairway opened before them. Again they halted, and again they began to 
climb. It was a long and weary ascent; but this stairway did not delve into 
the mountain -side. Here the huge cliff face sloped backwards, and the path 
like a snake wound to and fro across it. At one point it crawled sideways 
right to the edge of the dark chasm, and Frodo glancing down saw below him 
as a vast deep pit the great ravine at the head of the Morgul Valley. Down 
in its depths glimmered like a glow-worm thread the wraith-road from the 
dead city to the Nameless Pass. He turned hastily away. 

Still on and up the stairway bent and crawled, until at last with a 
final flight, short and straight, it climbed out again on to another level. 

The path had veered away from the main pass in the great ravine, and it now 
followed its own perilous course at the bottom of a lesser cleft among the 
higher regions of the Ephel D®ath. Dimly the hobbits could discern tall 
piers and jagged pinnacles of stone on either side, between which were great 
crevices and fissures blacker than the night, where forgotten winters had 
gnawed and carved the sunless stone. And now the red light in the sky seemed 
stronger; though they could not tell whether a dreadful morning were indeed 
coming to this place of shadow, or whether they saw only the flame of some 
great violence of Sauron in the torment of Gorgoroth beyond. Still far 
ahead, and still high above, Frodo, looking up, saw, as he guessed, the very 
crown of this bitter road. Against the sullen redness of the eastern sky a 
cleft was outlined in the topmost ridge, narrow, deep-cloven between two 




black shoulders; and on either shoulder was a horn of stone. 

He paused and looked more attentively. The horn upon the left was tall 
and slender; and in it burned a red light, or else the red light in the land 
beyond was shining through a hole. He saw now: it was a black tower poised 
above the outer pass. He touched Sam's arm and pointed. 

'I don’t like the look of that! ' said Sam. 'So this secret way of 
yours is guarded after all,' he growled, turning to Gollum. 'As you knew all 
along, I suppose? ' 

'All ways are watched, yes,' said Gollum. 'Of course they are. But 
hobbits must try some way. This may be least watched. Perhaps they've all 
gone away to big battle, perhaps ! ' 

'Perhaps,' grunted Sam. 'Well, it still seems a long way off, and a 
long way up before we get there. And there's still the tunnel. I think you 
ought to rest now, Mr. Frodo. I don't know what time of day or night it is, 
but we've kept going for hours and hours.' 

'Yes, we must rest,’ said Frodo. 'Let us find some corner out of the 
wind, and gather our strength-for the last lap.' For so he felt it to be. 

The terrors of the land beyond, and the deed to be done there, seemed 
remote, too far off yet to trouble him. All his mind was bent on getting 
through or over this impenetrable wall and guard. If once he could do that 
impossible thing, then somehow the errand would be accomplished, or so it 
seemed to him in that dark hour of weariness, still labouring in the stony 
shadows under Cirith Ungol. 

In a dark crevice between two great piers of rock they sat down: Frodo 
and Sam a little way within, and Gollum crouched upon the ground near the 
opening. There the hobbits took what they expected would be their last meal 
before they went down into the Nameless Land, maybe the last meal they 
would 

ever eat together. Some of the food of Gondor they ate, and wafers of the 
waybread of the Elves, and they drank a little. But of their water they were 
sparing and took only enough to moisten their dry mouths. 

'I wonder when we'll find water again? ' said Sam. 'But I suppose even 
over there they drink? Ores drink, don't they? ' 

'Yes, they drink,' said Frodo. 'But do not let us speak of that. Such 
drink is not for us.' 

'Then all the more need to fill our bottles,' said Sam. 'But there 
isn't any water up here: not a sound or a trickle have I heard. And anyway 




Faramir said we were not to drink any water in Morgul.' 

'No water flowing out of Imlad Morgul, were his words,' said Frodo. 'We 
are not in that valley now, and if we came on a spring it would be flowing 
into it and not out of it.' 

'I wouldn't trust it,' said Sam, 'not till I was dying of thirst. 

There's a wicked feeling about this place.' Fie sniffed. 'And a smell, I 
fancy. Do you notice it? A queer kind of a smell, stuffy. I don't like it.' 

'I don't like anything here at all.' said Frodo, 'step or stone, breath 
or bone. Earth, air and water all seem accursed. But so our path is laid.’ 

'Yes, that's so,' said Sam. 'And we shouldn't be here at all, if we'd 
known more about it before we started. But I suppose it's often that way. 
The brave things in the old tales and songs, Mr. Frodo: adventures, as I 
used to call them. I used to think that they were things the wonderful folk 
of the stories went out and looked for, because they wanted them, because 
they were exciting and life was a bit dull, a kind of a sport, as you might 
say. But that's not the way of it with the tales that really mattered, or 
the ones that stay in the mind. Folk seem to have been just landed in them, 
usually — their paths were laid that way, as you put it. But I expect they 
had lots of chances, like us, of turning back, only they didn't. And if they 
had, we shouldn't know, because they'd have been forgotten. We hear about 
those as just went on — and not all to a good end, mind you; at least not 
to what folk inside a story and not outside it call a good end. You know, 
coming home, and finding things all right, though not quite the same — like 
old Mr Bilbo. But those aren't always the best tales to hear, though they 
may be the best tales to get landed in! I wonder what sort of a tale we've 
fallen into? ' 

'I wonder,' said Frodo. 'But I don't know. And that's the way of a real 
tale. Take any one that you're fond of. You may know, or guess, what kind of 
a tale it is, happy-ending or sad-ending, but the people in it don't know. 

And you don't want them to.' 

'No, sir, of course not. Beren now, he never thought he was going to 
get that Silmaril from the Iron Crown in Thangorodrim, and yet he did, and 
that was a worse place and a blacker danger than ours. But that's a long 
tale, of course, and goes on past the happiness and into grief and beyond it 
— and the Silmaril went on and came to Edrendil. And why, sir, I never 
thought of that before! We've got — you've got some of the light of it in 
that star-glass that the Lady gave you! Why, to think of it, we're in the 




same tale still! It's going on. Don't the great tales never end? ' 

'No, they never end as tales,' said Frodo. 'But the people in them 
come, and go when their part's ended. Our part will end later — or sooner.' 

'And then we can have some rest and some sleep,' said Sam. He laughed 
grimly. 'And I mean just that, Mr. Frodo. I mean plain ordinary rest, and 
sleep, and waking up to a morning's work in the garden. I'm afraid that's 
all I'm hoping for all the time. All the big important plans are not for my 
sort. Still, I wonder if we shall ever be put into songs or tales. We're in 
one, or course; but I mean: put into words, you know, told by the fireside, 
or read out of a great big book with red and black letters, years and years 
afterwards. And people will say: "Let's hear about Frodo and the Ring! " And 
they'll say: "Yes, that's one of my favourite stories. Frodo was very brave, 
wasn't he, dad?" "Yes, my boy, the famousest of the hobbits, and that's 
saying a lot.'" 

'It's saying a lot too much,' said Frodo, and he laughed, a long clear 
laugh from his heart. Such a sound had not been heard in those places since 
Sauron came to Middle-earth. To Sam suddenly it seemed as if all the stones 
were listening and the tall rocks leaning over them. But Frodo did not heed 
them; he laughed again. 'Why, Sam,' he said, 'to hear you somehow makes me 
as merry as if the story was already written. But you've left out one of the 
chief characters: Samwise the stouthearted. "I want to hear more about Sam, 
dad. Why didn't they put in more of his talk, dad? That's what I like, it 
makes me laugh. And Frodo wouldn't have got far without Sam, would he, 
dad? 

ft f 

'Now, Mr. Frodo,' said Sam, 'you shouldn't make fun. I was serious. ' 

'So was I,' said Frodo, 'and so I am. We're going on a bit too fast. 

You and I, Sam, are still stuck in the worst places of the story, and it is 
all too likely that some will say at this point: "Shut the book now, dad; we 
don't want to read any more." ' 

'Maybe,' said Sam, 'but I wouldn't be one to say that. Things done and 
over and made into part of the great tales are different. Why, even Gollum 
might be good in a tale, better than he is to have by you, anyway. And he 
used to like tales himself once, by his own account. I wonder if he thinks 
he's the hero or the villain? 

'Gollum!' he called. 'Would you like to be the hero — now where's he 
got to again?' 




There was no sign of him at the mouth of their shelter nor in the 
shadows near. He had refused their food, though he had, as usual, accepted a 
mouthful of water; and then he had seemed to curl up for a sleep: They had 
supposed that one at any rate of his objects in his long absence the day 
before had been to hunt for food to his own liking; and now he had evidently 
slipped off again while they talked. But what for this time? 

'I don't like his sneaking off without saying,' said Sam. 'And least of 
all now. He can't be looking for food up here, not unless there's some kind 
of rock he fancies. Why, there isn't even a bit of moss! ' 

"It's no good worrying about him now,' said Frodo. 'We couldn't have 
got so far, not even within sight of the pass, without him, and so we'll 
have to put up with his ways. If he's false, he's false.' 

'All the same, I'd rather have him under my eye,' said Sam. 'All the 
more so, if he's false. Do you remember he never would say if this pass was 
guarded or no? And now we see a tower there — and it may be deserted, and 
it may not. Do you think he's gone to fetch them, Ores or whatever they 
are?' 

'No, I don't think so,' answered Frodo. 'Even if he's up to some 
wickedness, and I suppose that's not unlikely, I don't think it's that: not 
to fetch Ores, or any servants of the Enemy. Why wait till now, and go 
through all the labour of the climb, and come so near the land he fears? He 
could probably have betrayed us to Ores many times since we met him. No, if 
it's anything, it will be some little private trick of his own-that he 
thinks is quite secret.' 

'Well, I suppose you're right, Mr. Frodo,' said Sam. 'Not that it 
comforts me mightily. I don't make no mistake: I don't doubt he'd hand me 
over to Ores as gladly as kiss his hand. But I was forgetting — his 
Precious. No, I suppose the whole time it's been The Precious for poor 
Smjagol. That's the one idea in all his little schemes, if he has any. But 
how bringing us up here will help him in that is more than I can guess.' 

'Very likely he can't guess himself,' said Frodo. 'And I don't think 
he's got just one plain scheme in his muddled head. I think he really is in 
part trying to save the Precious from the Enemy, as long as he can. For that 
would be the last disaster for himself too. if the Enemy got it. And in the 
other part, perhaps, he's just biding his time and waiting on chance.' 

'Yes, Slinker and Stinker, as I've said before,' said Sam. 'But the 
nearer they get to the Enemy's land the more like Stinker Slinker will get. 




Mark my words: if ever we get to the pass, he won't let us really take the 
precious thing over the border without making some kind of trouble.' 

'We haven't got there yet,' said Frodo. 

'No, but we'd better keep our eyes skinned till we do. If we're caught 
napping, Stinker will come out on top pretty quick. Not but what it would be 
safe for you to have a wink now, master. Safe, if you lay close to me. I'd 
be dearly glad to see you have a sleep. I'd keep watch over you; and anyway, 
if you lay near, with my arm round you, no one could come pawing you 
without 

your Sam knowing it.' 

'Sleep!' said Frodo and sighed, as if out of a desert he had seen a 
mirage of cool green. 'Yes, even here I could sleep.' 

'Sleep then, master! Lay your head in my lap.' 

And so Gollum found them hours later, when he returned, crawling and 
creeping down the path out of the gloom ahead. Sam sat propped against the 
stone, his head dropping sideways and his breathing heavy. In his lap lay 
Frodo's head, drowned deep in sleep; upon his white forehead lay one of 
Sam's brown hands, and the other lay softly upon his master's breast. Peace 
was in both their faces. 

Gollum looked at them. A strange expression passed over his lean hungry 
face. The gleam faded from his eyes, and they went dim and grey, old and 
tired. A spasm of pain seemed to twist him, and he turned away, peering back 
up towards the pass, shaking his head, as if engaged in some interior 
debate. Then he came back, and slowly putting out a trembling hand, very 
cautiously he touched Frodo's knee — but almost the touch was a caress. For 
a fleeting moment, could one of the sleepers have seen him, they would have 
thought that they beheld an old weary hobbit, shrunken by the years that had 
carried him far beyond his time, beyond friends and kin, and the fields and 
streams of youth, an old starved pitiable thing. 

But at that touch Frodo stirred and cried out softly in his sleep, and 
immediately Sam was wide awake. The first thing he saw was Gollum — 
'pawing 

at master,’ as he thought. 

'Hey you!’ he said roughly. 'What are you up to?’ 

'Nothing, nothing,' said Gollum softly. 'Nice Master!' 

'I daresay,' said Sam. 'But where have you been to — sneaking off and 
sneaking back, you old villain? ' 




Gollum withdrew himself, and a green glint flickered under his heavy 
lids. Almost spider -like he looked now, crouched back on his bent limbs, 
with his protruding eyes. The fleeting moment had passed, beyond recall. 
'Sneaking, sneaking!' he hissed. 'Hobbits always so polite, yes. O nice 
hobbits! Smjagol brings them up secret ways that nobody else could find. 
Tired he is, thirsty he is, yes thirsty; and he guides them and he searches 
for paths, and they say sneak, sneak. Very nice friends, O yes my precious, 
very nice.' 

Sam felt a bit remorseful, though not more trustful. 'Sorry.' he said. 

'I'm sorry, but you startled me out of my sleep. And I shouldn't have been 
sleeping, and that made me a bit sharp. But Mr. Frodo. he's that tired, I 
asked him to have a wink; and well, that's how it is. Sorry. But where have 
you been to? ' 

'Sneaking,' said Gollum, and the green glint did not leave his eyes. 

'O very well,' said Sam, 'have it your own way! I don't suppose it's so 
far from the truth. And now we'd better all be sneaking along together. 
What's the time? Is it today or tomorrow? ' 

'It's tomorrow,' said Gollum, 'or this was tomorrow when hobbits went 
to sleep. Very foolish, very dangerous-if poor Smjagol wasn't sneaking about 
to watch.' 

'I think we shall get tired of that word soon,’ said Sam. 'But never 
mind. I'll wake master up.' Gently he smoothed the hair back from Frodo's 
brow, and bending down spoke softly to him. 

'Wake up, Mr. Frodo! Wake up! ' 

Frodo stirred and opened his eyes, and smiled, seeing Sam's face 
bending over him. 'Calling me early aren't you, Sam?' he said. 'It's dark 
still! ' 

'Yes it's always dark here,' said Sam. 'But Gollum' s come back Mr. 
Frodo, and he says it's tomorrow. So we must be walking on. The last lap.' 

Frodo drew a deep breath and sat up. 'The last lap! ’ he said. 'Hullo, 
Smjagol! Found any food? Have you had any rest? ' 

'No food, no rest, nothing for Smjagol,' said Gollum. 'He's a sneak.' 

Sam clicked his tongue, but restrained himself. 

'Don't take names to yourself, Smjagol,' said Frodo. 'It's unwise 
whether they are true or false.' 

'Smjagol has to take what's given him,' answered Gollum. 'He was given 
that name by kind Master Samwise, the hobbit that knows so much.' 




Frodo looked at Sam. 'Yes sir,' he said. 'I did use the word, waking up 
out of my sleep sudden and all and finding him at hand. I said I was sorry, 
but I soon shan't be.' 

'Come, let it pass then,' said Frodo. 'But now we seem to have come to 
the point, you and I, Smjagol. Tell me. Can we find the rest of the way by 
ourselves? We're in sight of the pass, of a way in, and if we can find it 
now, then I suppose our agreement can be said to be over. You have done what 
you promised, and you're free: free to go back to food and rest, wherever 
you wish to go, except to servants of the Enemy. And one day I may reward 
you, I or those that remember me.' 

'No, no, not yet,' Gollum whined. 'O no! They can't find the way 
themselves, can they? O no indeed. There's the tunnel coming. Smjagol must 
go on. No rest. No food. Not yet.' 




Chapter 9 . Shelob ' s Lair 



It may indeed have been daytime now, as Gollum said, but the hobbits 
could see little difference, unless, perhaps, the heavy sky above was less 
utterly black, more like a great roof of smoke; while instead of the 
darkness of deep night, which lingered still in cracks and holes, a grey 
blurring shadow shrouded the stony world about them. They passed on, 
Gollum 

in front and the hobbits now side by side, up the long ravine between the 
piers and columns of torn and weathered rock, standing like huge unshapen 
statues on either hand. There was no sound. Some way ahead, a mile or so, 
perhaps, was a great grey wall, a last huge upthrusting mass of 
mountain- stone. Darker it loomed, and steadily it rose as they approached, 
until it towered up high above them, shutting out the view of all that lay 
beyond. Deep shadow lay before its feet. Sam sniffed the air. 

'Ugh! That smell!' he said. 'It's getting stronger and stronger.' 

Presently they were under the shadow, and there in the midst of it they 
saw the opening of a cave. 'This is the way in,' said Gollum softly. 'This 
is the entrance to the tunnel.' He did not speak its name: Torech Ungol, 
Shelob's Lair. Out of it came a stench, not the sickly odour of decay in the 
meads of Morgul, but a foul reek, as if filth unnameable were piled and 
hoarded in the dark within. 

'Is this the only way, Smjagol? ’ said Frodo. 

'Yes, yes,' he answered. 'Yes, we must go this way now.' 

'D'you mean to say you've been through this hole?' said Sam. 'Phew! But 
perhaps you don't mind bad smells.' 

Gollum's eyes glinted. 'He doesn't know what we minds, does he 
precious? No, he doesn't. But Smjagol can bear things. Yes. He's been 
through. O yes, right through. It's the only way.' 

'And what makes the smell, I wonder,' said Sam. 'It's like — well, I 
wouldn't like to say. Some beastly hole of the Ores, I'll warrant, with a 
hundred years of their filth in it.' 

'Well,' said Frodo, 'Ores or no, if it's the only way, we must take 
it.' 

Drawing a deep breath they passed inside. In a few steps they were in 




utter and impenetrable dark. Not since the lightless passages of Moria had 
Frodo or Sam known such darkness, and if possible here it was deeper and 
denser. There, there were airs moving, and echoes, and a sense of space. 

Here the air was still, stagnant, heavy, and sound fell dead. They walked as 
it were in a black vapour wrought of veritable darkness itself that, as it 
was breathed, brought blindness not only to the eyes but to the mind, so 
that even the memory of colours and of forms and of any light faded out of 
thought. Night always had been, and always would be, and night was all. 

But for a while they could still feel, and indeed the senses of their 
feet and fingers at first seemed sharpened almost painfully. The walls felt, 
to their surprise, smooth, and the floor, save for a step now and again, was 
straight and even, going ever up at the same stiff slope. The tunnel was 
high and wide, so wide that, though the hobbits walked abreast, only 
touching the side- walls with their outstretched hands, they were separated, 
cut off alone in the darkness. 

Gollum had gone in first and seemed to be only a few steps ahead. While 
they were still able to give heed to such things, they could hear his breath 
hissing and gasping just in front of them. But after a time their senses 
became duller, both touch and hearing seemed to grow numb, and they kept on, 
groping, walking, on and on, mainly by the force of the will with which they 
had entered, will to go through and desire to come at last to the high gate 
beyond. 

Before they had gone very far, perhaps, but time and distance soon 
passed out of his reckoning, Sam on the right, feeling the wall, was aware 
that there was an opening at the side: for a moment he caught a faint breath 
of some air less heavy, and then they passed it by. 

'There's more than one passage here,' he whispered with an effort: it 
seemed hard to make his breath give any sound. 'It's as ore-like a place as 
ever there could be ! ' 

After that, first he on the right, and then Frodo on the left, passed 
three or four such openings, some wider, some smaller; but there was as yet 
no doubt of the main way, for it was straight, and did not turn, and still 
went steadily up. But how long was it, how much more of this would they have 
to endure, or could they endure? The breathlessness of the air was growing 
as they climbed; and now they seemed often in the blind dark to sense some 
resistance thicker than the foul air. As they thrust forward they felt 
things brush against their heads, or against their hands, long tentacles, or 




hanging growths perhaps: they could not tell what they were. And still the 
stench grew. It grew, until almost it seemed to them that smell was the only 
clear sense left t0 them, and that was for their torment. One hour, two 
hours, three hours: how many had they passed in this lightless hole? 
Hours-days, weeks rather. Sam left the tunnel-side and shrank towards Frodo, 
and their hands met and clasped, and so together they still went on. 

At length Frodo, groping along the left-hand wall, came suddenly to a 
void. Almost he fell sideways into the emptiness. Here was some opening in 
the rock far wider than any they had yet passed; and out of it came a reek 
so foul, and a sense of lurking malice so intense, that Frodo reeled. And at 
that moment Sam too lurched and fell forwards. 

Fighting off both the sickness and the fear, Frodo gripped Sam's hand. 
'Up! ' he said in a hoarse breath without voice. 'It all comes from here, 
the stench and the peril. Now for it! Quick! ' 

Calling up his remaining strength and resolution, he dragged Sam to his 
feet, and forced his own limbs to move. Sam stumbled beside him. One step, 
two steps, three steps-at last six steps. Maybe they had passed the dreadful 
unseen opening, but whether that was so or not, suddenly it was easier to 
move, as if some hostile will for the moment had released them. They 
struggled on, still hand in hand. 

But almost at once they came to a new difficulty. The tunnel forked, or 
so it seemed, and in the dark they could not tell which was the wider way, 
or which kept nearer to the straight. Which should they take, the left, or 
the right? They knew of nothing to guide them, yet a false choice would 
almost certainly be fatal. 

'Which way has Gollum gone? ' panted Sam. 'And why didn't he wait? ' 

'Smjagol! ’said Frodo, trying to call. ’Smjagol! ’ But his voice 
croaked, and the name fell dead almost as it left his lips. There was no 
answer, not an echo, not even a tremor of the air. 

'He's really gone this time, I fancy,' muttered Sam. 'I guess this is 
just exactly where he meant to bring us. Gollum! If ever I lay hands on you 
again, you'll be sorry for it.' 

Presently, groping and fumbling in the dark, they found that the 
opening on the left was blocked: either it was a blind, or else some great 
stone had fallen in the passage. 'This can't be the way,' Frodo whispered. 
'Right or wrong, we must take the other.' 

'And quick! ' Sam panted. 'There's something worse than Gollum about. I 




can feel something looking at us.' 

They had not gone more than a few yards when from behind them came a 
sound, startling and horrible in the heavy padded silence: a gurgling, 
bubbling noise, and a long venomous hiss. They wheeled round, but nothing 
could be seen. Still as stones they stood, staring, waiting for they did not 
know what. 

'It's a trap!’ said Sam, and he laid his hand upon the hilt of his 
sword; and as he did so, he thought of the darkness of the barrow whence it 
came. ’I wish old Tom was near us now!’ he thought. Then as he stood, 
darkness about him and a blackness of despair and anger in his heart, it 
seemed to him that he saw a light: a light in his mind, almost unbearably 
bright at first, as a sun-ray to the eyes of one long hidden in a windowless 
pit. Then the light became colour: green, gold, silver, white. Far off, as 
in a little picture drawn by elven-fingers he saw the Lady Galadriel 
standing on the grass in Lurien, and gifts were in her hands. And you, 
Ring-bearer, he heard her say, remote but clear , for you I have prepared 
this. 

The bubbling hiss drew nearer, and there was a creaking as of some 
great jointed thing that moved with slow purpose in the dark. A reek came on 
before it. 'Master, master!' cried Sam, and the life and urgency came back 
into his voice. 'The Lady's gift! The star-glass! A light to you in dark 
places, she said it was to be. The star-glass! ' 

'The star-glass?' muttered Frodo, as one answering out of sleep, hardly 
comprehending. 'Why yes! Why had I forgotten it? A light when all other 
lights go out! And now indeed light alone can help us.’ 

Slowly his hand went to his bosom, and slowly he held aloft the Phial 
of Galadriel. For a moment it glimmered, faint as a rising star struggling 
in heavy earthward mists, and then as its power waxed, and hope grew in 
Frodo's mind, it began to burn, and kindled to a silver flame, a minute 
heart of dazzling light, as though Edrendil had himself come down from the 
high sunset paths with the last Silmaril upon his brow. The darkness receded 
from it until it seemed to shine in the centre of a globe of airy crystal, 
and the hand that held it sparkled with white fire. 

Frodo gazed in wonder at this marvellous gift that he had so long 
carried, not guessing its full worth and potency. Seldom had he remembered 
it on the road, until they came to Morgul Vale, and never had he used it for 
fear of its revealing light. Aiya Edrendil Elenion Ancalima! he cried, and 




knew not what he had spoken; for it seemed that another voice spoke through 
his, clear, untroubled by the foul air of the pit. 

But other potencies there are in Middle-earth, powers of night, and 
they are old and strong. And She that walked in the darkness had heard the 
Elves cry that cry far back in the deeps of time, and she had not heeded it, 
and it did not daunt her now. Even as Frodo spoke he felt a great malice 
bent upon him, and a deadly regard considering him. Not far down the tunnel, 
between them and the opening where they had reeled and stumbled, he was 
aware of eyes growing visible, two great clusters of many-windowed eyes — 
the coming menace was unmasked at last. The radiance of the star-glass was 
broken and thrown back from their thousand facets, but behind the glitter a 
pale deadly fire began steadily to glow within, a flame kindled in some deep 
pit of evil thought. Monstrous and abominable eyes they were, bestial and 
yet filled with purpose and with hideous delight, gloating over their prey 
trapped beyond all hope of escape. 

Frodo and Sam, horror-stricken, began slowly to back away, their own 
gaze held by the dreadful stare of those baleful eyes; but as they backed so 
the eyes advanced. Frodo's hand wavered, and slowly the Phial drooped. Then 
suddenly, released from the holding spell to run a little while in vain 
panic for the amusement of the eyes, they both turned and fled together; but 
even as they ran Frodo looked back and saw with terror that at once the eyes 
came leaping up behind. The stench of death was like a cloud about him. 

’Stand! stand! ' he cried desperately. 'Running is no use.’ 

Slowly the eyes crept nearer. 

'Galadriel! ' he called, and gathering his courage he lifted up the 
Phial once more. The eyes halted. For a moment their regard relaxed, as if 
some hint of doubt troubled them. Then Frodo's heart flamed within him, and 
without thinking what he did, whether it was folly or despair or courage, he 
took the Phial in his left hand, and with his right hand drew his sword. 

Sting flashed out, and the sharp elven-blade sparkled in the silver light, 
but at its edges a blue fire flicked. Then holding the star aloft and the 
bright sword advanced, Frodo, hobbit of the Shire, walked steadily down to 
meet the eyes. 

They wavered. Doubt came into them as the light approached. One by one 
they dimmed, and slowly they drew back. No brightness so deadly had ever 
afflicted them before. From sun and moon and star they had been safe 
underground, but now a star had descended into the very earth. Still it 




approached, and the eyes began to quail. One by one they all went dark; they 
turned away, and a great bulk, beyond the light's reach, heaved its huge 
shadow in between. They were gone. 

'Master, master!' cried Sam. He was close behind, his own sword drawn 
and ready. 'Stars and glory! But the Elves would make a song of that, if 
ever they heard of it! And may I live to tell them and hear them sing. But 
don't go on, master. Don't go down to that den! Now's our only chance. Now 
let's get out of this foul hole!' 

And so back they turned once more, first walking and then running; for 
as they went the floor of the tunnel rose steeply, and with every stride 
they climbed higher above the stenches of the unseen lair, and strength 
returned to limb and heart. But still the hatred of the Watcher lurked 
behind them, blind for a while, perhaps, but undefeated, still bent on 
death. And now there came a flow of air to meet them, cold and thin. The 
opening, the tunnel's end, at last it was before them. Panting, yearning for 
a roofless place, they flung themselves forward, and then in amazement they 
staggered, tumbling back. The outlet was blocked with some barrier, but not 
of stone: soft and a little yielding it seemed, and yet strong and 
impervious; air filtered through, hut not a glimmer of any light. Once more 
they charged and were hurled back. 

Holding aloft the Phial Frodo looked and before him he saw a greyness 
which the radiance of the star -glass did not pierce and did not illuminate, 
as if it were a shadow that being cast by no light, no light could 
dissipate. Across the width and height of the tunnel a vast web was spun, 
orderly as the web of some huge spider, but denser-woven and far greater, 
and each thread was as thick as rope. 

Sam laughed grimly. 'Cobwebs!' he said. 'Is that all? Cobwebs! But 
what a spider! Have at 'em, down with 'em! ' 

In a fury he hewed at them with his sword, but the thread that he 
struck did not break. It gave a little and then sprang back like a plucked 
bowstring, turning the blade and tossing up both sword and arm. Three times 
Sam struck with all his force, and at last one single cord of all the 
countless cords snapped and twisted, curling and whipping through the air. 
One end of it lashed Sam's hand, and he cried out in pain, starting back and 
drawing his hand across his mouth. 

'It will take days to clear the road like this,' he said. 'What's to be 
done? Have those eyes come back? ' 




'No, not to be seen,' said Frodo. 'But I still feel that they are 
looking at me, or thinking about me: making some other plan, perhaps. If 
this light were lowered, or if it failed, they would quickly come again.' 

'Trapped in the end! ' said Sam bitterly, his anger rising again above 
weariness and despair. 'Gnats in a net. May the curse of Faramir bite that 
Gollum and bite him quick! ’ 

'That would not help us now,' said Frodo. 'Come! Let us see what Sting 
can do. It is an elven-blade. There were webs of horror in the dark ravines 
of Beleriand where it was forged. But you must be the guard and hold back 
the eyes. Here, take the star-glass. Do not be afraid. Hold it up and 
watch!' 

Then Frodo stepped up to the great grey net, and hewed it with a wide 
sweeping stroke, drawing the bitter edge swiftly across a ladder of 
close-strung cords, and at once springing away. The blue-gleaming blade 
shore through them like a scythe through grass, and they leaped and writhed 
and then hung loose. A great rent was made. 

Stroke after stroke he dealt, until at last all the web within his 
reach was shattered, and the upper portion blew and swayed like a loose veil 
in the incoming wind. The trap was broken. 

'Come! ' cried Frodo. 'On! On! ' Wild joy at their escape from the very 
mouth of despair suddenly filled all his mind. His head whirled as with a 
draught of potent wine. He sprang out, shouting as he came. 

It seemed light in that dark land to his eyes that had passed through 
the den of night. The great smokes had risen and grown thinner, and the last 
hours of a sombre day were passing; the red glare of Mordor had died away in 
sullen gloom. Yet it seemed to Frodo that he looked upon a morning of sudden 
hope. Almost he had reached the summit of the wall. Only a little higher 
now. The Cleft, Cirith Ungol, was before him, a dim notch in the black 
ridge, and the horns of rock darkling in the sky on either side. A short 
race, a sprinter's course and he would be through! 

'The pass, Sam! ’ he cried, not heeding the shrillness of his voice, 
that released from the choking airs of the tunnel rang out now high and 
wild. 'The pass ! Run, run, and we'll be through-through before any one can 
stop us! ' 

Sam came up behind as fast as he could urge his legs; but glad as he 
was to be free, he was uneasy, and as he ran, he kept on glancing back at 
the dark arch of the tunnel, fearing to see eyes, or some shape beyond his 




imagining, spring out in pursuit. Too little did he or his master know of 
the craft of Shelob. She had many exits from her lair. 

There agelong she had dwelt, an evil thing in spider-form, even such as 
once of old had lived in the Land of the Elves in the West that is now under 
the Sea, such as Beren fought in the Mountains of Terror in Doriath, and so 
came to L®thien upon the green sward amid the hemlocks in the moonlight 
long 

ago. How Shelob came there, flying from ruin, no tale tells, for out of the 
Dark Years few tales have come. But still she was there, who was there 
before Sauron, and before the first stone of Barad-dyr; and she served none 
but herself, drinking the blood of Elves and Men, bloated and grown fat with 
endless brooding on her feasts, weaving webs of shadow; for all living 
things were her food, and her vomit darkness. Far and wide her lesser 
broods, bastards of the miserable mates, her own offspring, that she slew, 
spread from glen to glen, from the Ephel D®ath to the eastern hills, to Dol 
Guldur and the fastnesses of Mirkwood. But none could rival her, Shelob the 
Great, last child of Ungoliant to trouble the unhappy world. 

Already, years before, Gollum had beheld her, Smjagol who pried into 
all dark holes, and in past days he had bowed and worshipped her, and the 
darkness of her evil will walked through all the ways of his weariness 
beside him, cutting him off from light and from regret. And he had promised 
to bring her food. But her lust was not his lust. Little she knew of or 
cared for towers, or rings, or anything devised by mind or hand, who only 
desired death for all others, mind and body, and for herself a glut of life, 
alone, swollen till the mountains could no longer hold her up and the 
darkness could not contain her. 

But that desire was yet far away, and long now had she been hungry, 
lurking in her den, while the power of Sauron grew, and light and living 
things forsook his borders; and the city in the valley was dead, and no Elf 
or Man came near, only the unhappy Ores. Poor food and wary. But she must 
eat, and however busily they delved new winding passages from the pass and 
from their tower, ever she found some way to snare them. But she lusted for 
sweeter meat. And Gollum had brought it to her. 

'We'll see, we’ll see,' he said often to himself, when the evil mood 
was on him, as he walked the dangerous road from Emyn Muil to Morgul 
Vale, 

'we'll see. It may well be, O yes, it may well be that when She throws away 




the bones and the empty garments, we shall find it, we shall get it, the 
Precious, a reward for poor Smjagol who brings nice food. And we'll save the 
Precious, as we promised. O yes. And when we’ve got it safe, then She'll 
know it, O yes, then we'll pay Her back, my precious. Then we'll pay 
everyone back! ' 

So he thought in an inner chamber of his cunning, which he still hoped 
to hide from her, even when he had come to her again and had bowed low 
before her while his companions slept. 

And as for Sauron: he knew where she lurked. It pleased him that she 
should dwell there hungry but unabated in malice, a more sure watch upon 
that ancient path into his land than any other that his skill could have 
devised. And Ores, they were useful slaves, but he had them in plenty. If 
now and again Shelob caught them to stay her appetite, she was welcome: he 
could spare them. And sometimes as a man may cast a dainty to his cat ( his 
cat he calls her, but she owns him not) Sauron would send her prisoners that 
he had no better uses for: he would have them driven to her hole, and report 
brought back to him of the play she made. 

So they both lived, delighting in their own devices, and feared no 
assault, nor wrath, nor any end of their wickedness. Never yet had any fly 
escaped from Shelob's webs, and the greater now was her rage and hunger. 

But nothing of this evil which they had stirred up against them did 
poor Sam know, except that a fear was growing on him, a menace which he 
could not see; and such a weight did it become that it was a burden to him 
to run, and his feet seemed leaden. 

Dread was round him, and enemies before him in the pass, and his master 
was in a fey mood running heedlessly to meet them. Turning his eyes away 
from the shadow behind and the deep gloom beneath the cliff upon his left, 
he looked ahead, and he saw two things that increased his dismay. He saw 
that the sword which Frodo still held unsheathed was glittering with blue 
flame; and he saw that though the sky behind was now dark, still the window 
in the tower was glowing red. 

'Ores!' he muttered. 'We'll never rush it like this. There's Ores 
about, and worse than Ores.' Then returning quickly to his long habit of 
secrecy, he closed his hand about the precious Phial which he still bore. 

Red with his own living blood his hand shone for a moment, and then he 
thrust the revealing light deep into a pocket near his breast and drew his 
elven-cloak about him. Now he tried to quicken his pace. His master was 




gaining on him; already he was some twenty strides ahead, flitting on like a 
shadow; soon he would be lost to sight in that grey world. 

Hardly had Sam hidden the light of the star-glass when she came. A 
little way ahead and to his left he saw suddenly, issuing from a black hole 
of shadow under the cliff, the most loathly shape that he had ever beheld, 
horrible beyond the horror of an evil dream. Most like a spider she was, but 
huger than the great hunting beasts, and more terrible than they because of 
the evil purpose in her remorseless eyes. Those same eyes that he had 
thought daunted and defeated, there they were lit with a fell light again, 
clustering in her out-thrust head. Great horns she had, and behind her short 
stalk -like neck was her huge swollen body, a vast bloated bag, swaying and 
sagging between her legs; its great bulk was black, blotched with livid 
marks, but the belly underneath was pale and luminous and gave forth a 
stench. Her legs were bent, with great knobbed joints high above her back, 
and hairs that stuck out like steel spines, and at each leg’s end there was 
a claw. 

As soon as she had squeezed her soft squelching body and its folded 
limbs out of the upper exit from her lair, she moved with a horrible speed, 
now running on her creaking legs, now making a sudden bound. She was 
between 

Sam and his master. Either she did not see Sam, or she avoided him for the 
moment as the bearer of the light' and fixed all her intent upon one prey, 
upon Frodo, bereft of his Phial, running heedless up the path, unaware yet 
of his peril. Swiftly he ran, but Shelob was swifter; in a few leaps she 
would have him. 

Sam gasped and gathered all his remaining breath to shout. 'Look out 
behind! ' he yelled. ’Look out master! I'm' — but suddenly his cry was 
stifled. 

A long clammy hand went over his mouth and another caught him by the 
neck, while something wrapped itself about his leg. Taken off his guard he 
toppled backwards into the arms of his attacker. 

'Got him! ' hissed Gollum in his ear. 'At last, my precious, we’ve got 
him, yes, the nassty hobbit. We takes this one. She'll get the other. O yes, 
Shelob will get him, not Smjagol: he promised; he won't hurt Master at all. 
But he's got you, you nassty filthy little sneak!' He spat on Sam's neck. 

Fury at the treachery, and desperation at the delay when his master was 
in deadly peril, gave to Sam a sudden violence and strength that was far 




beyond anything that Gollum had expected from this slow stupid hobbit, as he 
thought him. Not Gollum himself could have twisted more quickly or more 
fiercely. His hold on Sam's mouth slipped, and Sam ducked and lunged 
forward 

again, trying to tear away from the grip on his neck. His sword was still in 
his hand, and on his left arm, hanging by its thong, was Faramir's staff. 
Desperately he tried to turn and stab his enemy. But Gollum was too quick. 
His long right arm shot out, and he grabbed Sam's wrist: his fingers were 
like a vice; slowly and relentlessly he bent the hand down and forward, till 
with a cry of pain Sam released the sword and it fell to the ground; and all 
the while Gollum's other hand was tightening on Sam's throat. 

Then Sam played his last trick. With all his strength he pulled away 
and got his feet firmly planted; then suddenly he drove his legs against the 
ground and with his whole force hurled himself backwards. 

Not expecting even this simple trick from Sam, Gollum fell over with 
Sam on top, and he received the weight of the sturdy hobbit in his stomach. 

A sharp hiss came out of him, and for a second his hand upon Sam's throat 
loosened; but his fingers still gripped the sword-hand. Sam tore himself 
forward and away, and stood up, and then quickly he wheeled away to his 
right, pivoted on the wrist held by Gollum. Laying hold of the staff with 
his left hand, Sam swung it up, and down it came with a whistling crack on 
Gollum's outstretched arm, just below the elbow. 

With a squeal Gollum let go. Then Sam waded in; not waiting to change 
the staff from left to right he dealt another savage blow. Quick as a snake 
Gollum slithered aside, and the stroke aimed at his head fell across his 
back. The staff cracked and broke. That was enough for him. Grabbing from 
behind was an old game of his, and seldom had he failed in it. But this 
time, misled by spite, he had made the mistake of speaking and gloating 
before he had both hands on his victim's neck. Everything had gone wrong 
with his beautiful plan, since that horrible light had so unexpectedly 
appeared in the darkness. And now he was face to face with a furious enemy, 
little less than his own size. This fight was not for him. Sam swept up his 
sword from the ground and raised it. Gollum squealed, and springing aside on 
to all fours, he jumped away in one big bound like a frog. Before Sam could 
reach him, he was off, running with amazing speed back towards the tunnel. 

Sword in hand Sam went after him. For the moment he had forgotten 
everything else but the red fury in his brain and the desire to kill Gollum. 




But before he could overtake him, Gollum was gone. Then as the dark hole 
stood before him and the stench came out to meet him, like a clap of thunder 
the thought of Frodo and the monster smote upon Sam's mind. He spun round, 
and rushed wildly up the path, calling and calling his master's name. He was 
too late. So far Gollum's plot had succeeded. 




Chapter 10. The Choices of Master Samwise 



Frodo was lying face upward on the ground and the monster was bending 
over him, so intent upon her victim that she took no heed of Sam and his 
cries, until he was close at hand. As he rushed up he saw that Frodo was 
already bound in cords, wound about him from ankle to shoulder, and the 
monster with her great forelegs was beginning half to lift, half to drag his 
body away. 

On the near side of him lay, gleaming on the ground, his elven-blade, 
where it had fallen useless from his grasp. Sam did not wait to wonder what 
was to be done, or whether he was brave, or loyal, or filled with rage. He 
sprang forward with a yell, and seized his master's sword in his left hand. 
Then he charged. No onslaught more fierce was ever seen in the savage world 
of beasts; where some desperate small creature armed with little teeth 
alone, will spring upon a tower of horn and hide that stands above its 
fallen mate. 

Disturbed as if out of some gloating dream by his small yell she turned 
slowly the dreadful malice of her glance upon him. But almost before she was 
aware that a fury was upon her greater than any she had known in countless 
years, the shining sword bit upon her foot and shore away the claw. Sam 
sprang in, inside the arches of her legs, and with a quick upthrust of his 
other hand stabbed at the clustered eyes upon her lowered head. One great 
eye went dark. 

Now the miserable creature was right under her, for the moment out of 
the reach of her sting and of her claws. Her vast belly was above him with 
its putrid light, and the stench of it almost smote him down. Still his fury 
held for one more blow, and before she could sink upon him, smothering him 
and all his little impudence of courage, he slashed the bright elven-blade 
across her with desperate strength. 

But Shelob was not as dragons are, no softer spot had she save only her 
eyes. Knobbed and pitted with corruption was her age-old hide, but ever 
thickened from within with layer on layer of evil growth. The blade scored 
it with a dreadful gash, but those hideous folds could not be pierced by any 
strength of men, not though Elf or Dwarf should forge the steel or the hand 
of Beren or of T®rin wield it. She yielded to the stroke, and then heaved up 




the great bag of her belly high above Sam's head. Poison frothed and bubbled 
from the wound. Now splaying her legs she drove her huge bulk down on 
him 

again. Too soon. For Sam still stood upon his feet, and dropping his own 
sword, with both hands he held the elven-blade point upwards, fending off 
that ghastly roof; and so Shelob, with the driving force of her own cruel 
will, with strength greater than any warrior's hand, thrust herself upon a 
bitter spike. Deep, deep it pricked, as Sam was crushed slowly to the 
ground. 

No such anguish had Shelob ever known, or dreamed of knowing, in all 
her long world of wickedness. Not the doughtiest soldier of old Gondor, nor 
the most savage Ore entrapped, had ever thus endured her, or set blade to 
her beloved flesh. A shudder went through her. Heaving up again, wrenching 
away from the pain, she bent her writhing limbs beneath her and sprang 
backwards in a convulsive leap. 

Sam had fallen to his knees by Frodo's head, his senses reeling in the 
foul stench, his two hands still gripping the hilt of the sword. Through the 
mist before his eyes he was aware dimly of Frodo's face and stubbornly he 
fought to master himself and to drag himself out of the swoon that was upon 
him. Slowly he raised his head and saw her, only a few paces away, eyeing 
him, her beak drabbling a spittle of venom, and a green ooze trickling from 
below her wounded eye. There she crouched, her shuddering belly splayed 
upon 

the ground, the great bows of her legs quivering, as she gathered herself 
for another spring-this time to crush and sting to death: no little bite of 
poison to still the struggling of her meat; this time to slay and then to 
rend. 

Even as Sam himself crouched, looking at her, seeing his death in her 
eyes, a thought came to him, as if some remote voice had spoken, and he 
fumbled in his breast with his left hand, and found what he sought: cold and 
hard and solid it seemed to his touch in a phantom world of horror, the 
Phial of Galadriel. 

'Galadriel! ' he said faintly, and then he heard voices far off but 
clear: the crying of the Elves as they walked under the stars in the beloved 
shadows of the Shire, and the music of the Elves as it came through his 
sleep in the Hall of Fire in the house of Elrond. 

Gilthoniel A Elberethl 




And then his tongue was loosed and his voice cried in a language which 
he did not know: 

A Elbereth Gilthoniel 

o menel palan-diriel, 

le nallon sn di'nguruthos! 

A tiro nin, Fanuilos! 

And with that he staggered to his feet and was Sam wise the hobbit, 
Hamfast's son, again. 

'Now come, you filth!' he cried. 'You've hurt my master, you brute, and 
you'll pay for it. We're going on; but we'll settle with you first. Come on, 
and taste it again!' 

As if his indomitable spirit had set its potency in motion, the glass 
blazed suddenly like a white torch in his hand. It flamed like a star that 
leaping from the firmament sears the dark air with intolerable light. No 
such terror out of heaven had ever burned in Shelob's face before. The beams 
of it entered into her wounded head and scored it with unbearable pain, and 
the dreadful infection of light spread from eye to eye. She fell back 
beating the air with her forelegs, her sight blasted by inner lightnings, 
her mind in agony. Then turning her maimed head away, she rolled aside and 
began to crawl, claw by claw, towards the opening in the dark cliff behind. 

Sam came on. He was reeling like a drunken man, but he came on. And 
Shelob cowed at last, shrunken in defeat, jerked and quivered as she tried 
to hasten from him. She reached the hole, and squeezing down, leaving a 
trail of green-yellow slime, she slipped in, even as Sam hewed a last stroke 
at her dragging legs. Then he fell to the ground. 

Shelob was gone; and whether she lay long in her lair, nursing her 
malice and her misery, and in slow years of darkness healed herself from 
within, rebuilding her clustered eyes, until with hunger like death she spun 
once more her dreadful snares in the glens of the Mountains of Shadow, this 
tale does not tell. 

Sam was left alone. Wearily, as the evening of the Nameless Land fell 
upon the place of battle, he crawled back to his master. 

'Master, dear master,' he said, but Frodo did not speak. As he had run 
forward, eager, rejoicing to be free, Shelob with hideous speed had come 
behind and with one swift stroke had stung him in the neck. He lay now pale, 
and heard no voice, and did not move. 

'Master, dear master! ’ said Sam, and through a long silence waited. 




listening in vain. 

Then as quickly as he could he cut away the binding cords and laid his 
head upon Frodo's breast and to his mouth, but no stir of life could he 
find, nor feel the faintest flutter of the heart. Often he chafed his 
master's hands and feet, and touched his brow, but all were cold. 

'Frodo, Mr. Frodo! ' he called. 'Don't leave me here alone! It's your 
Sam calling. Don't go where I can't follow! Wake up, Mr. Frodo! O wake up, 
Frodo, me dear, me dear. Wake up!' 

Then anger surged over hint, and he ran about his master's body in a 
rage, stabbing the air, and smiting the stones, and shouting challenges. 
Presently he came back, and bending looked at Frodo's face, pale beneath him 
in the dusk. And suddenly he saw that he was in the picture that was 
revealed to him in the mirror of Galadriel in Lurien: Frodo with a pale face 
lying fast asleep under a great dark cliff. Or fast asleep he had thought 
then. 'He's dead! ' he said. 'Not asleep, dead! ' And as he said it, as if 
the words had set the venom to its work again, it seemed to him that the hue 
of the face grew livid green. 

And then black despair came down on him, and Sam bowed to the ground, 
and drew his grey hood over his head, and night came into his heart, and he 
knew no more. 

When at last the blackness passed, Sam looked up and shadows were about 
him; but for how many minutes or hours the world had gone dragging on he 
could not tell. He was still in the same place, and still his master lay 
beside him dead. The mountains had not crumbled nor the earth fallen into 
ruin. 

'What shall I do, what shall I do? ' he said. 'Did I come all this way 
with him for nothing? ’ And then he remembered his own voice speaking 
words 

that at the time he did not understand himself, at the beginning of their 
journey: I have something to do before the end. I must see it through, sir, 
if you understand. 

'But what can I do? Not leave Mr. Frodo dead, unburied on the top of 
the mountains, and go home? Or go on? Go on?’ he repeated, and for a 
moment 

doubt and fear shook him. 'Go on? Is that what I've got to do? And leave 
him?' 

Then at last he began to weep; and going to Frodo he composed his body, 




and folded his cold hands upon his breast, and wrapped his cloak about him; 
and he laid his own sword at one side, and the staff that Faramir had given 
at the other. 

'If I’m to go on,' he said, 'then I must take your sword, by your 
leave, Mr. Frodo, but I'll put this one to lie by you, as it lay by the old 
king in the barrow; and you've got your beautiful mithril coat from old Mr. 
Bilbo. And your star-glass, Mr. Frodo, you did lend it to me and I'll need 
it, for I'll be always in the dark now. It's too good for me, and the Lady 
gave it to you, but maybe she'd understand. Do you understand, Mr. Frodo? 
I've got to go on.' 

But he could not go, not yet. He knelt and held Frodo's hand and could 
not release it. And time went by and still he knelt, holding his master's 
hand, and in his heart keeping a debate. 

Now he tried to find strength to tear himself away and go on a lonely 
journey — for vengeance. If once he could go, his anger would bear him down 
all the roads of the world, pursuing, until he had him at last: Gollum. Then 
Gollum would die in a corner. But that was not what he had set out to do. It 
would not be worth while to leave his master for that. It would not bring 
him back. Nothing would. They had better both be dead together. And that too 
would be a lonely journey. 

He looked on the bright point of the sword. He thought of the places 
behind where there was a black brink and an empty fall into nothingness. 
There was no escape that way. That was to do nothing, not even to grieve. 
That was not what he had set out to do. 'What am I to do then? ' he cried 
again, and now he seemed plainly to know the hard answer: see it through. 
Another lonely journey, and the worst. 

'What? Me, alone, go to the Crack of Doom and all? ' He quailed still, 
but the resolve grew. 'What? Me take the Ring from him ? The Council gave it 
to him.’ 

But the answer came at once: 'And the Council gave him companions, so 
that the errand should not fail. And you are the last of all the Company. 

The errand must not fail.' 

'I wish I wasn't the last,' he groaned. 'I wish old Gandalf was hare or 
somebody. Why am I left all alone to make up my mind? I’m sure to go wrong. 
And it's not for me to go taking the Ring, putting myself forward.' 

'But you haven't put yourself forward; you've been put forward. And as 
for not being the right and proper person, why, Mr. Frodo wasn't as you 




might say, nor Mr. Bilbo. They didn’t choose themselves.' 

'Ah well, I must make up my own mind. I will make it up. But I'll be 
sure to go wrong: that'd be Sam Gamgee all over. 

'Let me see now: if we're found here, or Mr. Frodo's found, and that 
Thing's on him, well, the Enemy will get it. And that's the end of all of 
us, of Lorien, and Rivendell, and the Shire and all. And there s no time to 
lose, or it'll be the end anyway. The war's begun, and more than likely 
things are all going the Enemy's way already. No chance to go back with It 
and get advice or permission. No, it's sit here till they come and kill me 
over master's body, and gets It: or take It and go.' He drew a deep breath. 

'Then take It, it is ! ' 

He stooped. Very gently he undid the clasp at the neck and slipped his 
hand inside Frodo's tunic; then with his other hand raising the head, he 
kissed the cold forehead, and softly drew the chain over it. And then the 
head lay quietly back again in rest. No change came over the still face, and 
by that more than by all other tokens Sam was convinced at last that Frodo 
had died and laid aside the Quest. 

'Good-bye, master, my dear! ' he murmured. 'Forgive your Sam. He'll 
come back to this spot when the job's done — if he manages it. And then 
he'll not leave you again. Rest you quiet till I come; and may no foul 
creature come anigh you ! And if the Lady could hear me and give me one wish, 
I would wish to come back and find you again. Good-bye! ' 

And then he bent his own neck and put the chain upon it, and at once 
his head was bowed to the ground with the weight of the Ring, as if a great 
stone had been strung on him. But slowly, as if the weight became less, or 
new strength grew in him, he raised his head, and then with a great effort 
got to his feet and found that he could walk and bear his burden. And for a 
moment he lifted up the Phial and looked down at his master, and the light 
burned gently now with the soft radiance of the evening-star in summer, and 
in that light Frodo's face was fair of hue again, pale but beautiful with an 
elvish beauty, as of one who has long passed the shadows. And with the 
bitter comfort of that last sight Sam turned and hid the light and stumbled 
on into the growing dark. 

He had not far to go. The tunnel was some way behind; the Cleft a 
couple of hundred yards ahead, or less. The path was visible in the dusk' a 
deep rut worn in ages of passage, running now gently up in a long trough 
with cliffs on either side. The trough narrowed rapidly. Soon Sam came to a 




long flight of broad shallow steps. Now the ore-tower was right above him, 
frowning black, and in it the red eye glowed. Now he was hidden in the dark 
shadow under it. He was coming to the top of the steps and was in the Cleft 
at last. 

'I've made up my mind,' he kept saying to himself. But he had not. 
Though he had done his best to think it out, what he was doing was 
altogether against the grain of his nature. 'Have I got it wrong? ' he 
muttered. 'What ought I to have done? ’ 

As the sheer sides of the Cleft closed about him, before he reached the 
actual summit, before he looked at last on the path descending into the 
Nameless Land, he turned. For a moment, motionless in intolerable doubt, he 
looked back. He could still see, like a small blot in the gathering gloom, 
the mouth of the tunnel; and he thought he could see or guess where Frodo 
lay. He fancied there was a glimmer on the ground down there, or perhaps it 
was some trick of his tears, as he peered out at that high stony place where 
all his life had fallen in ruin. 

’If only I could have my wish, my one wish,’ he sighed, 'to go back and 
find him!' Then at last he turned to the road in front and took a few 
steps: the heaviest and the most reluctant he had ever taken. 

Only a few steps; and now only a few more and he would be going down 
and would never see that high place again. And then suddenly he heard cries 
and voices. He stood still as stone. Ore- voices. They were behind him and 
before him. A noise of tramping feet and harsh shouts: Ores were coming up 
to the Cleft from the far side, from some entry to the tower, perhaps. 
Tramping feet and shouts behind. He wheeled round. He saw small red lights, 
torches, winking away below there as they issued from the tunnel. At last 
the hunt was up. The red eye of the tower had not been blind. He was caught. 

Now the flicker of approaching torches and the clink of steel ahead was 
very near. In a minute they would reach the top and be on him. He had taken 
too long in making up his mind, and now it was no good. How could he escape, 
or save himself, or save the Ring? The Ring. He was not aware of any thought 
or decision. He simply found himself drawing out the chain and taking the 
Ring in his hand. The head of the ore-company appeared in the Cleft right 
before him. Then he put it on. 

The world changed, and a single moment of time was filled with an hour 
of thought. At once he was aware that hearing was sharpened while sight was 
dimmed, but otherwise than in Shelob's lair. All things about him now were 




not dark but vague; while he himself was there in a grey hazy world, alone, 
like a small black solid rock and the Ring, weighing down his left hand, was 
like an orb of hot gold. He did not feel invisible at all, but horribly and 
uniquely visible; and he knew that somewhere an Eye was searching for him. 

He heard the crack of stone, and the murmur of water far off in Morgul 
Vale; and down away under the rock the bubbling misery of Shelob, groping, 
lost in some blind passage; and voices in the dungeons of the tower; and the 
cries of the Ores as they came out of the tunnel; and deafening, roaring in 
his ears, the crash of the feet and the rending clamour of the Ores before 
him. He shrank against the cliff. But they marched up like a phantom 
company, grey distorted figures in a mist, only dreams of fear with pale 
flames in their hands. And they passed him by. He cowered, trying to creep 
away into some cranny and to hide. 

He listened. The Ores from the tunnel and the others marching down had 
sighted one another, and both parties were now hurrying and shouting. He 
heard them both clearly, and he understood what they said. Perhaps the Ring 
gave understanding of tongues, or simply understanding, especially of the 
servants of Sauron its maker, so that if he gave heed, he understood and 
translated the thought to himself. Certainly the Ring had grown greatly in 
power as it approached the places of its forging; but one thing it did not 
confer, and that was courage. At present Sam still thought only of hiding, 
of lying low till all was quiet again; and he listened anxiously. He could 
not tell how near the voices were, the words seemed almost in his ears. 

'Hola! Gorbag! What are you doing up here? Had enough of war already? ' 

'Orders, you lubber. And what are you doing, Shagrat? Tired of lurking 
up there? Thinking of coming down to fight? ' 

'Orders to you. I'm in command of this pass. So speak civil. What's 
your report? ' 

'Nothing.' 

'Hai! hai! yoi !' A yell broke into the exchanges of the leaders. The 
Ores lower down had suddenly seen something. They began to run. So did the 
others. 

'Hai! Hola! Here's something! Lying right in the road. A spy, a spy! ' 

There was a hoot of snarling horns and a babel of baying voices. 

With a dreadful stroke Sam was wakened from his cowering mood. They 
had 

seen his master. What would they do? He had heard tales of the Ores to make 




the blood run cold. It could not be borne. He sprang up. He flung the Quest 
and all his decisions away, and fear and doubt with them. He knew now where 
his place was and had been: at his master's side, though what he could do 
there was not clear. Back he ran down the steps, down the path towards 
Frodo. 

'How many are there?' he thought. 'Thirty or forty from the tower at 
least, and a lot more than that from down below, I guess. How many can I 
kill before they get me? They'll see the flame of the sword, as soon as I 
draw it, and they'll get me sooner or later. I wonder if any song will ever 
mention it: How Samwise fell in the High Pass and made a wall of bodies 
round his master. No, no song. Of course not, for the Ring'll be found, and 
there'll be no more songs. I can't help it. My place is by Mr. Frodo. They 
must understand that — Elrond and the Council, and the great Lords and 
Ladies with all their wisdom. Their plans have gone wrong. I can't be their 
Ring-bearer. Not without Mr. Frodo.' 

But the Ores were out of his dim sight now. He had had no time to 
consider himself, but now he realized that he was weary, weary almost to 
exhaustion: his legs would not carry him as he wished. He was too slow. The 
path seemed miles long. Where had they all got to in the mist? 

There they were again! A good way ahead still. A cluster of figures 
round something lying on the ground; a few seemed to be darting this way and 
that, bent like dogs on a trail. He tried to make a spurt. 

'Come on, Sam! ' he said, 'or you'll be too late again.' He loosened 
the sword in its sheath. In a minute he would draw it, and then— 

There was a wild clamour, hooting and laughing, as something was lifted 
from the ground. 'Ya hoi! Ya harri hoi! Up! Up! ' 

Then a voice shouted: 'Now off! The quick way. Back to the Undergate! 
She'll not trouble us tonight by all the signs.' The whole band of 
ore-figures began to move. Four in the middle were carrying a body high on 
their shoulders. 'Ya hoi! ’ 

They had taken Frodo's body. They were off. He could not catch them up. 
Still he laboured on. The Ores reached the tunnel and were passing in. Those 
with the burden went first, and behind them there was a good deal of 
struggling and jostling. Sam came on. He drew the sword, a flicker of blue 
in his wavering hand, but they did not see it. Even as he came panting up, 
the last of them vanished into the black hole. 

For a moment he stood, gasping, clutching his breast. Then he drew his 




sleeve across his face, wiping away the grime, and sweat, and tears. ’Curse 
the filth! ' he said, and sprang after them into the darkness. 

It no longer seemed very dark to him in the tunnel, rather it was as if 
he had stepped out of a thin mist into a heavier fog. His weariness was 
growing but his will hardened all the more. He thought he could see the 
light of torches a little way ahead, but try as he would, he could not catch 
them up. Ores go fast in tunnels, and this tunnel they knew well.; for in 
spite of Shelob they were forced to use it often as the swiftest way from 
the Dead City over the mountains. In what far-off time the main tunnel and 
the great round pit had been made, where Shelob had taken up her abode in 
ages past, they did not know: but many byways they had themselves delved 
about in on either side, so as to escape the lair in their goings to and fro 
on the business of their masters. Tonight they did not intend to go far 
down, but were hastening to find a side-passage that led back to their 
watch-tower on the cliff. Must of them were gleeful, delighted with what 
they had found and seen, and as they ran they gabbled and yammered after the 
fashion of their kind. Sam heard the noise of their harsh voices, flat and 
hard in the dead air, and he could distinguish two voices from among all the 
rest: they were louder, and nearer to him. The captains of the two parties 
seemed to be bringing up the rear, debating as they went. 

’Can't you stop your rabble making such a racket, Shagrat? ' grunted 
the one. 'We don’t want Shelob on us.’ 

'Go on, Gorbag! Yours are making more than half the noise,’ said the 
other. 'But let the lads play! No need to worry about Shelob for a bit, I 
reckon. She’s sat on a nail, it seems, and we shan’t cry about that. Didn’t 
you see: a nasty mess all the way back to that cursed crack of hers? If 
we’ve stopped it once, we’ve stopped it a hundred times. So let ’em laugh. 
And we’ve struck a bit of luck at last: got something that Lugb®rz wants.’ 
’Lugb®rz wants it, eh? What is it, d’you think? Elvish it looked to me, 
but undersized. What’s the danger in a thing like that? ’ 

’Don’t know till we’ve had a look.’ 

’Oho! So they haven’t told you what to expect? They don’t tell us all 
they know, do they? Not by half. But they can make mistakes, even the Top 
Ones can.’ 

'Sh, Gorbag!’ Shagrat’s voice was lowered, so that even with his 
strangely sharpened hearing Sam could only just catch what was said. ’They 
may, but they’ve got eyes and ears everywhere; some among my lot, as like as 




not. But there's no doubt about it, they're troubled about something. The 
Nazgyl down below are, by your account; and Lugb®rz is too. Something 
nearly 
slipped.’ 

'Nearly, you say! ’ said Gorbag. 

'All right,’ said Shagrat, 'but we’ll talk of that later: Wait till we 
get to the Under-way. There’s a place there where we can talk a bit, while 
the lads go on.’ 

Shortly afterwards Sam saw the torches disappear. Then there was a 
rumbling noise, and just as he hurried up, a bump. As far as he could guess 
the Ores had turned and gone into the very opening which Frodo and he had 
tried and found blocked. It was still blocked. 

There seemed to be a great stone in the way, but the Ores had got 
through somehow, for he could hear their voices on the other side. They were 
still running along, deeper and deeper into the mountain, back towards the 
tower. Sam felt desperate. They were carrying off his master's body for some 
foul purpose and he could not follow. He thrust and pushed at the block, and 
he threw himself against it, but it did not yield. Then not far inside, or 
so he thought, he heard the two captains' voices talking again. He stood 
still listening for a little hoping perhaps to learn something useful. 

Perhaps Gorbag, who seemed to belong to Minas Morgul, would come out, and 
he 

could then slip in. 

'No, I don’t know,’ said Gorbag's voice. 'The messages go through 
quicker than anything could fly, as a rule. But I don’t enquire how it’s 
done. Safest not to. Grr! Those Nazgyl give me the creeps. And they skin the 
body off you as soon as look at you, and leave you all cold in the dark on 
the other side. But He likes ’em; they’re His favourites nowadays, so it’s 
no use grumbling. I tell you, it’s no game serving down in the city.’ 

'You should try being up here with Shelob for company,’ said Shagrat. 

’I’d like to try somewhere where there's none of 'em. But the war's on 
now, and when that's over things may be easier.' 

'It's going well, they say.’ 

'They would.’ grunted Gorbag. 'We'll see. But anyway, if it does go 
well, there should be a lot more room. What d’you say? — if we get a 
chance, you and me’ll slip off and set up somewhere on our own with a few 
trusty lads, somewhere where there's good loot nice and handy, and no big 




bosses.' 

’Ah! ' said Shagrat. 'Like old times.' 

'Yes,' said Gorbag. 'But don't count on it. I'm not easy in my mind. As 
I said, the Big Bosses, ay,' his voice sank almost to a whisper, 'ay, even 
the Biggest, can make mistakes. Something nearly slipped you say. I say, 
something has slipped. And we've got to look out. Always the poor Uruks to 
put slips right, and small thanks. But don't forget: the enemies don't love 
us any more than they love Him, and if they get topsides on Him, we're done 
too. But see here: when were you ordered out? ' 

'About an hour ago, just before you saw us. A message came: Nazgyl 
uneasy. Spies feared on Stairs. Double vigilance. Patrol to head of Stairs. 

I came at once.' 

'Bad business,' said Gorbag. 'See here — our Silent Watchers were 
uneasy more than two days ago. that I know. But my patrol wasn't ordered out 
for another day, nor any message sent to Lugb®rz either: owing to the Great 
Signal going up, and the High Nazgyl going off to the war, and all that. And 
then they couldn't get Lugb®rz to pay attention for a good while, I'm told.' 

'The Eye was busy elsewhere, I suppose,' said Shagrat. 'Big things 
going on away west, they say.’ 

’I daresay,' growled Gorbag. 'But in the meantime enemies have got up 
the Stairs. And what were you up to? You're supposed to keep watch, aren't 
you, special orders or no? What are you for?' 

'That's enough! Don't try and teach me my job. We were awake all right. 

We knew there were funny things going on.' 

'Very funny! ’ 

'Yes, very funny: lights and shouting and all. But Shelob was on the 
go. My lads saw her and her Sneak.' 

'Her Sneak? What's that? ' 

'You must have seen him: little thin black fellow; like a spider 
himself, or perhaps more like a starved frog. He's been here before. Came 
out of Lugb®rz the first time, years ago, and we had word from High Up to 
let him pass. He's been up the Stairs once or twice since then, but we've 
left him alone: seems to have some understanding with Her Ladyship. I 
suppose he's no good to eat: she wouldn't worry about words from High Up. 
But a fine guard you keep in the valley: he was up here a day before all 
this racket. Early last night we saw him. Anyway my lads reported that Her 
Ladyship was having some fun, and that seemed good enough for me, until the 




message came. I thought her Sneak had brought her a toy. or that you'd 
perhaps sent her a present, a prisoner of war or something. I don't 
interfere when she's playing. Nothing gets by Shelob when she's on the 
hunt.' 

'Nothing, say you! Didn't you use your eyes back there? I tell you I'm 
not easy in my mind. Whatever came up the Stairs, did get by. It cut her web 
and got clean out of the hole. That's something to think about! ' 

'Ah well, but she got him in the end, didn't she? ' 

' Got him? Got whol This little fellow? But if he was the only one then 
she'd have had him off to her larder long before, and there he'd be now. And 
if Lugb®rz wanted him, you'd have to go and get him. Nice for you. But there 
was more than one.' 

At this point Sam began to listen more attentively and pressed his ear 
against the stone. 

'Who cut the cords she'd put round him, Shagrat? Same one as cut the 
web. Didn't you see that? And who stuck a pin into Her Ladyship? Same one, I 
reckon. And where is he? Where is he, Shagrat? ' 

Shagrat made no reply. 

'You may well put your thinking cap on, if you've got one. It's no 
laughing matter. No one, no one has ever stuck a pin in Shelob before, as 
you should know well enough. There's no grief in that; but think -there's 
someone loose hereabouts as is more dangerous than any other damned rebel 
that ever walked since the bad old times, since the Great Siege. Something 
has slipped.' 

'And what is it then? ' growled Shagrat. 

'By all the signs, Captain Shagrat, I'd say there's a large warrior 
loose, Elf most likely, with an elf-sword anyway, and an axe as well maybe: 
and he's loose in your bounds, too, and you've never spotted him. Very funny 
indeed! ' Gorbag spat. Sam smiled grimly at this description of himself. 

'Ah well, you always did take a gloomy view.' said Shagrat. 'You can 
read the signs how you like, but there may be other ways to explain them. 
Anyhow. I've got watchers at every point, and I'm going to deal with one 
thing at a time. When I've had a look at the fellow we have caught, then 
I'll begin to worry 



lcb2 




about something else.' 

It s my guess you won’t find much in that little fellow,' said Gorbag. 

'He may have had nothing to do with the real mischief. The big fellow with 
the sharp sword doesn't seem to have thought him worth much anyhow — just 
left him lying: regular elvish trick.' 

'We'll see. Come on now! We've talked enough. Let's go and have a look 
at the prisoner! 

'What are you going to do with him? Don't forget I spotted him first. 

If there's any game, me and my lads must be in it.' 

'Now, now,' growled Shagrat. 'I have my orders. And it's more than my 
belly's worth, or yours, to break 'em. Any trespasser found by the guard is 
to be held at the tower. Prisoner is to be stripped. Full description of 
every article, garment, weapon, letter, ring, or trinket is to be sent to 
Lugb®rz at once, and to Lugb®rz only. And the prisoner is to be kept safe 
and intact, under pain of death for every member of the guard, until He 
sends or comes Himself. That's plain enough, and that's what I'm going to 
do.' 

'Stripped, eh? ' said Gorbag. 'What, teeth, nails, hair, and all? ' 

'No, none of that. He's for Lugb®rz, I tell you. He's wanted safe and 
whole.' 

'You'll find that difficult,' laughed Gorbag. 'He's nothing but carrion 
now. What Lugb®rz will do with such stuff I can't guess. He might as well go 
in the pot.' 

'You fool,' snarled Shagrat. 'You've been talking very clever, but 
there's a lot you don't know, though most other folk do. You'll be for the 
pot or for Shelob, if you don't take care. Carrion! Is that all you know of 
Her Ladyship? When she binds with cords, she's after meat. She doesn't eat 
dead meat, nor suck cold blood. This fellow isn't dead! ' 

Sam reeled, clutching at the stone. He felt as if the whole dark world 
was turning upside down. So great was the shock that he almost swooned, but 
even as he fought to keep a hold on his senses, deep inside him he was aware 
of the comment: 'You fool, he isn't dead, and your heart knew it. Don't 
trust your head, Samwise, it is not the best part of you. The trouble with 
you is that you never really had any hope. Now what is to be done? ' Fur the 
moment nothing, but to prop himself against the unmoving stone and listen, 
listen to the vile ore- voices. 

'Garn!' said Shagrat. 'She's got more than one poison. When she's 




hunting, she just gives ’em a dab in the neck and they go as limp as boned 
fish, and then she has her way with them. D'you remember old Ufthak? We lost 
him for days. Then we found him in a corner; hanging up he was, but he was 
wide awake and glaring. How we laughed! She’d forgotten him, maybe, but 
we 

didn't touch him-no good interfering with Her. Nar — this little filth, 
he’ll wake up, in a few hours; and beyond feeling a bit sick for a hit, 
he'll be all right. Or would be, if Lugb®rz would let him alone. And of 
course, beyond wondering where he is and what's happened to him.’ 

'And what's going to happen to him,' laughed Gorbag. 'We can tell him a 
few stories at any rate, if we can't do anything else. I don't suppose he's 
ever been in lovely Lugb®rz, so he may like to know what to expect. This is 
going to be more funny than I thought. Let's go!' 

'There's going to be no fun, I tell you,' said Shagrat. 'And he's got 
to be kept safe, or we're all as good as dead.' 

'All right! But if I were you, I’d catch the big one that's loose, 
before you send in any report to Lugb®rz. It won't sound too pretty to say 
you've caught the kitten and let the cat escape.' 

The voices began to move away. Sam heard the sound of feet receding. He 
was recovering from his shock, and now a wild fury was on him. 'I got it all 
wrong! ’ he cried. 'I knew I would. Now they've got him, the devils! the 
filth! Never leave your master, never, never: that was my right rule. And I 
knew it in my heart. May I be forgiven! Now I've got to get back to him. 
Somehow, somehow! ' 

He drew his sword again and beat on the stone with the hilt, but it 
only gave out a dull sound. The sword, however, blazed so brightly now that 
he could see dimly in its light. To his surprise he noticed that the great 
block was shaped like a heavy door, and was less than twice his own height. 
Above it was a dark blank space between the top and the low arch of the 
opening. It was probably only meant to be a stop against the intrusion of 
Shelob, fastened on the inside with some latch or bolt beyond the reach of 
her cunning. With his remaining strength Sam leaped and caught the top, 
scrambled up, and dropped; and then he ran madly, sword blazing in hand, 
round a bend and up a winding tunnel. 

The news that his master was still alive roused him to a last effort 
beyond thought of weariness. He could not see anything ahead, for this new 
passage twisted and turned constantly; but he thought he was catching the 




two Ores up: their voices were growing nearer again. Now they seemed quite 
close. 

'That's what I'm going to do,' said Shagrat in angry tones. 'Put him 
right up in the top chamber.' 

'What for? ' growled Gorbag. 'Haven't you any lock-ups down below? ' 

'He's going out of harm's way, I tell you,' answered Shagrat. 'See? 

He's precious. I don't trust all my lads, and none of yours; nor you 
neither, when you're mad for fun. He's going where I want him, and where you 
won't come, if you don't keep civil. Up to the top, I say. He'll be safe 
there.' 

'Will he?’ said Sam. 'You're forgetting the great big elvish warrior 
that's loose!' And with that he raced round the last corner, only to find 
that by some trick of the tunnel, or of the hearing which the Ring gave him, 
he had misjudged the distance. 

The two ore-figures were still some way ahead. He could see them now, 
black and squat against a red glare. The passage ran straight at last, up an 
incline; and at the end, wide open, were great double doors, leading 
probably to deep chambers far below the high horn of the tower. Already the 
Ores with their burden had passed inside. Gorbag and Shagrat were drawing 
near the gate. 

Sam heard a burst of hoarse singing, blaring of horns and banging of 
gongs, a hideous clamour. Gorbag and Shagrat were already on the threshold. 

Sam yelled and brandished Sting, but his little voice was drowned in 
the tumult. No one heeded him. 

The great doors slammed to. Boom. The bars of iron fell into place 
inside. Clang. The gate was shut. Sam hurled himself against the bolted 
brazen plates and fell senseless to the ground. He was out in the darkness. 
Frodo was alive but taken by the Enemy. 




Here ends the second part of the history of the War of the Ring. 

The third part tells of the last defence against the Shadow, and the 
end of the mission of the Ring-bearer in THE RETURN OF THE KING.