towers

962 the two towers
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 Orcs 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 orc-figures began to move. Four in the middle
were carrying a body high on their shoulders. ‘Ya hoi!’
* * *