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unclenching feebly。 He put the bundle on the floor and with his right claw drew out a long red knife
and spat on it。 Going to the parapet he leaned over； looking down into the outer court far below。
Twice he shouted but no answer came。
Suddenly； as Shagrat was stooped over the battlement； his back to the roof…top； Sam to his
amazement saw that one of the sprawling bodies was moving。 It was crawling。 It put out a claw and
clutched the bundle。 It staggered up。 In its other hand it held a broad…headed spear with a short
broken haft。 It was poised for a stabbing thrust。 But at that very moment a hiss escaped its teeth； a
gasp of pain or hate。 Quick as a snake Shagrat slipped aside； twisted round； and drove his knife into
his enemy's throat。
‘Got you； Gorbag！' he cried。 'Not quite dead； eh？ Well； I'll finish my job now。' He sprang on to
the fallen body； and stamped and trampled it in his fury； stooping now and again to stab and slash it
with his knife。 Satisfied at last； he threw back his head and let out a horrible gurgling yell of
triumph。 Then he licked his knife； and put it between his teeth； and catching up the bundle he came
loping towards the near door of the stairs。
Sam had no time to think。 He might have slipped out of the other door； but hardly without being
seen； and he could not have played hide…and…seek with this hideous orc for long。 He did what was
probably the best thing he could have done。 He sprang out to meet Shagrat with a shout。 He was no
longer holding the Ring； but it was there； a hidden power； a cowing menace to the slaves of Mordor；
and in his hand was Sting； and its light smote the eyes of the orc like the glitter of cruel stars in the
terrible elf…countries； the dream of which was a cold fear to all his kind。 And Shagrat could not both
fight and keep hold of his treasure。 He stopped； growling； baring his fangs。 Then once more； orc…
fashion； he leapt aside； and as Sam sprang at him； using the heavy bundle as both shield and
weapon； he thrust it hard into his enemy's face。 Sam staggered； and before he could recover；
Shagrat darted past and down the stairs。
Sam ran after him； cursing； but he did not go far。 Soon the thought of Frodo returned to him； and
he remembered that the other orc had gone back into the turret。 Here was another dreadful choice；
and he had no time to ponder it。 If Shagrat got away； he would soon get help and e back。 But if
Sam pursued him； the other orc might do some horrible deed up there。 And anyway Sam might
miss Shagrat or be killed by him。 He turned quickly and ran back up the stairs。 ‘Wrong again； I
expect；' he sighed。 ‘But it's my job to go right up to the top first； whatever happens afterwards。'
Away below Shagrat went leaping down the stairs and out over the court and through the gate；
bearing his precious burden。 If Sam could have seen him and known the grief that his escape would
bring； he might have quailed。 But now his mind was set on the last stage of his search。 He came
cautiously to the turret…door and stepped inside。 It opened into darkness。 But soon his staring eyes
were aware of a dim light at his right hand。 It came from an opening that led to another stairway；
dark and narrow： it appeared to go winding up the turret along the inside of its round outer wall。 A
torch was glimmering from somewhere up above。
Softly Sam began to climb。 He came to the guttering torch； fixed above a door on his left that
faced a window…slit looking out westward： one of the red eyes that he and Frodo had seen from
down below by the tunnel's mouth。 Quickly Sam passed the door and hurried on to the second
storey； dreading at any moment to he attacked and to feel throttling fingers seize his throat from
behind。 He came next to a window looking east and another torch above the door to a passage
through the middle of the turret。 The door was open； the passage dark save for the glimmer of the
torch and the red glare from outside filtering through the window…slit。 But here the stair stopped
and climbed no further。 Sam crept into the passage。 On either side there was a low door； both were
closed and locked。 There was no sound at all。
‘A dead end；' muttered Sam； ‘and after all my climb！ This can't be the top of the tower。 But what
can I do now？'
He ran back to the lower storey and tried the door。 It would not move。 He ran up again； and
sweat began to trickle down his face。 He felt that even minutes were precious； but one by one they
escaped； and he could do nothing。 He cared no longer for Shagrat or Snaga or any other orc that
was ever spawned。 He longed only for his master； for one sight of his face or one touch of his hand。
At last； weary and feeling finally defeated； he sat on a step below the level of the passage…floor
and bowed his head into his hands。 It was quiet； horribly quiet。 The torch； that was already burning
low when he arrived； sputtered and went out； and he felt the darkness cover him like a tide。 And
then softly； to his own surprise； there at the vain end of his long journey and his grief； moved by
what thought in his heart he could not tell； Sam began to sing。
His voice sounded thin and quavering in the cold dark tower： the voice of a forlorn and weary
hobbit that no listening orc could possibly mistake for the clear song of an Elven…lord。 He
murmured old childish tunes out of the Shire； and snatches of Mr。 Bilbo's rhymes that came into his
mind like fleeting glimpses of the country of his home。 And then suddenly new strength rose in him；
and his voice rang out； while words of his own came unbidden to fit the simple tune。
_In western lands beneath the Sun
the flowers may rise in Spring；
the trees may bud； the waters run；
the merry finches sing。
Or there maybe 'tis cloudless night
and swaying beeches bear
the Elven…stars as jewels white
amid their branching hair。
Though here at journey's end I lie
in darkness buried deep；
beyond all towers strong and high；
beyond all mountains steep；
above all shadows rides the Sun
and Stars for ever dwell：
I will not say the Day is done；
nor bid the Stars farewell。_
‘Beyond all towers strong and high；' he began again； and then he stopped short。 He thought that
he had heard a faint voice answering him。 But now he could hear nothing。 Yes； he could hear
something； but not a voice。 Footsteps were approaching。 Now a door was being opened quietly in
the passage above； the hinges creaked。 Sam crouched down listening。 The door closed with a dull
thud； and then a snarling orc…voice rang out。
'Ho la！ You up there； you dunghill rat！ Stop your squeaking； or I'll e and deal with you。
D'you hear？'
There was no answer。
'All right；' growled Snaga。 ‘But I'll e and have a look at you all the same； and see what
you're up to。'
The hinges creaked again； and Sam； now peering over the corner of the passage…threshold； saw a
flicker of light in an open doorway； and the dim shape of an orc ing out。 He seemed to be
carrying a ladder。 Suddenly the answer dawned on Sam： the topmost chamber was reached by a
trap…door in the roof of the passage。 Snaga thrust the ladder upwards； steadied it； and then
clambered out of sight。 Sam heard a bolt drawn back。 Then he heard the hideous voice speaking
again。
‘You lie quiet； or you'll pay for it！ You've not got long to live in peace； I guess； but if you don't
want the fun to begin right now； keep your trap shut； see？ There's a reminder for you！' There was a
sound like the crack of a whip。
At that rage blazed in Sam's heart to a sudden fury。 He sprang up； ran； and went up the ladder
like a cat。 His head came out in the middle of the floor of a large round chamber。 A red lamp hung
from its roof； the westward window…slit was high and dark。 Something was lying on the floor by
the wall under the window； but over it a black orc…shape was straddled。 It raised a whip a second
time； but the blow never fell。
With a cry Sam leapt across the floor； Sting in hand。 The orc wheeled round； but before it could
make a move Sam slashed its whip…hand from its arm。 Howling with pain and fear but desperate the
orc charged head…down at him。 Sam's next blow went wide； and thrown off his balance he fell
backwards； clutching at the orc as it stumbled over him。 Before he could scramble up he heard a cry
and a thud。 The orc in its wild haste had tripped on the ladder…head and fallen through the open
trap…door。 Sam gave no more thought to it。 He ran to the figure huddled on the floor。 It was Frodo。
He was naked； lying as if in a swoon on a heap of filthy rags： his arm was flung up； shielding his
head； and across his side there ran an ugly whip…weal。
‘Frodo！ Mr。 Frodo； my dear！' cried Sam； tears almost blinding him。 ‘It's Sam； I've e！' He
half lifted his master and hugged him to his breast。 Frodo opened his eyes。
‘Am I still dreaming？' he muttered。 ‘But the other dreams were horrible。'
‘You're not dreaming at all； Master；' said Sam。 ‘It's real。 It's me。 I've e。'
‘I can hardly believe it；' said Frodo； clutching him。 ‘There was an orc with a whip； and then it
turns into Sam！ Then I wasn't dreaming after all when I heard that singing down below； and I tried
to answer？ Was it you？'
'It was indeed； Mr。 Frodo。 I'd given up hope； almost。 I couldn't find you。
Well； you have now； Sam； dear Sam； said Frodo； and he la back in Sam's gentle arms； closing
his eyes； like a child at rest when night…fears are driven away by some loved voice or hand。
Sam felt that he could sit like that in endless happiness； but it was not allowed。 It was not
enough for him to find his master； he had still to try and save him。 He kissed Frodo's forehead。
‘e！ Wake up Mr。 Frodo！' he said； trying to sound as cheerful as he had when he drew back the
curtains at Bag End on a summer's morning。
Frodo sighed and sat up。 ‘Where are we？ How did I get here？' he asked。
'There's no time for tales till we get somewhere else； Mr。 Frodo；' said Sam。 ‘But you're in the top
of that tower you and me saw from away down by the tunnel before the orcs got you。 How long ago
that was I don't know。 More than a day； I guess。'
‘Only that？' said Frodo。 ‘It seems weeks。 You must tell me all about it； if we get a chance。
Something hit me； didn't it？ And I fell into darkness and foul dreams； and woke and found that
waking was worse。 Orcs were all round me。 I think they had just been pouring some horrible
burning drink down my throat。 My head grew clear； but I was aching and weary。 They stripped me
of everything； and then two great brutes came and questioned me； questioned me until I thought I
should go mad； standing over me； gloating； fingering their knives。 I'll never forget their claws and
eyes。'
‘You won't； if you talk about them； Mr。 Frodo；' said Sam。 'And if we don't want to see them
again； the sooner we get going the better。 Can you walk？'
‘Yes； I can walk；' said Frodo； getting up slowly。 'I am not hurt Sam。 Only I feel very tired； and
I've a pain here。' He put his hand to the back of his neck above his left shoulder。 He stood up； and it
looked to Sam as if he was clothed in flame： his naked skin was scarlet in the light of the lamp
above。 Twice he paced across the floor。
‘That's better！' he said； his spirits rising a little。 ‘I didn't dare to move when I was left alone； or
one of the guards came。 Until the yelling and fighting began。 The two big brutes： they quarrelled； I
think。 Over me and my things。 I lay here terrified。 And then all went deadly quiet； and that was
worse。'
‘Yes； they quarrelled； seemingly；' said Sam。 There must have been a couple of hundred of the
dirty creatures in this place。 A bit of a tall order for Sam Gamgee； as you might say。 But they've
done all the killing of themselves。 That's lucky； but it's too long to make a song about； till we're out
of here。 Now what's to be done？ You can't go walking in the Black Land in naught but your skin；
Mr。 Frodo。'
‘They've taken everything； Sam；' said Frodo。 ‘Everything I had。 Do you understand？
_Everything！_' He cowered on the floor again with bowed head； as his own words brought home to
him the fullness of the disaster； and despair overwhelmed him。 'The quest has failed Sam。 Even if
we get out of here； we can't escape。 Only Elves can escape。 Away； away out of Middle…earth； far
away over the Sea。 If even that is wide enough to keep the Shadow out。'
‘No； _not_ everything； Mr。 Frodo。 And it hasn't failed； not yet。 I took it； Mr。 Frodo； begging
your pardon。 And I've kept it safe。 It's round my neck now； and a terrible burden it is； too。' Sam
fumbled for the Ring and its chain。 ‘But I suppose you must take it back。' Now it had e to it；
Sam felt reluctant to give up the Ring and burden his master with it again。
‘You've got it？' gasped Frodo。 ‘You've got it here？ Sam； you're a marvel！' Then quickly and
strangely his tone changed。 ‘Give it to me！' he cried； standing up； holding o