towers

the taming of sméagol 789
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,