towers

the uruk-hai 579
attacked again, by a hundred Orcs at least, some of them
very large, and they shot a rain of arrows: always at Boromir.
Boromir had blown his great horn till the woods rang, and at
first the Orcs had been dismayed and had drawn back; but
when no answer but the echoes came, they had attacked more
fiercely than ever. Pippin did not remember much more. His
last memory was of Boromir leaning against a tree, plucking
out an arrow; then darkness fell suddenly.
‘I suppose I was knocked on the head,’ he said to himself.
‘I wonder if poor Merry is much hurt. What has happened
to Boromir? Why didn’t the Orcs kill us? Where are we, and
where are we going?’
He could not answer the questions. He felt cold and
sick. ‘I wish Gandalf had never persuaded Elrond to let us
come,’ he thought. ‘What good have I been? Just a nuisance:
a passenger, a piece of luggage. And now I have been stolen
and I am just a piece of luggage for the Orcs. I hope Strider
or someone will come and claim us! But ought I to hope
for it? Won’t that throw out all the plans? I wish I could get
free!’
He struggled a little, quite uselessly. One of the Orcs sitting
near laughed and said something to a companion in their
abominable tongue. ‘Rest while you can, little fool!’ he said
then to Pippin, in the Common Speech, which he made
almost as hideous as his own language. ‘Rest while you can!
We’ll find a use for your legs before long. You’ll wish you
had got none before we get home.’
‘If I had my way, you’d wish you were dead now,’ said the
other. ‘I’d make you squeak, you miserable rat.’ He stooped
over Pippin, bringing his yellow fangs close to his face. He
had a black knife with a long jagged blade in his hand. ‘Lie
quiet, or I’ll tickle you with this,’ he hissed. ‘Don’t draw
attention to yourself, or I may forget my orders. Curse the
Isengarders! Uglúk u bagronk sha pushdug Saruman-glob búbhosh
skai’: he passed into a long angry speech in his own
tongue that slowly died away into muttering and snarling.