towers

the stairs of cirith ungol 927
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 mountainside
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.’
* * *