towers

900 the two towers
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. Sméagol! 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.’