return

Chapter 1
THE TOWER OF CIRITH UNGOL
Sam roused himself painfully from the ground. For a moment
he wondered where he was, and then all the misery and
despair returned to him. He was in the deep dark outside the
under-gate of the orcs’ stronghold; its brazen doors were
shut. He must have fallen stunned when he hurled himself
against them; but how long he had lain there he did not know.
Then he had been on fire, desperate and furious; now he was
shivering and cold. He crept to the doors and pressed his
ears against them.
Far within he could hear faintly the voices of orcs clamouring,
but soon they stopped or passed out of hearing, and
all was still. His head ached and his eyes saw phantom lights
in the darkness, but he struggled to steady himself and think.
It was clear at any rate that he had no hope of getting into
the orc-hold by that gate; he might wait there for days before
it was opened, and he could not wait: time was desperately
precious. He no longer had any doubt about his duty: he
must rescue his master or perish in the attempt.
‘The perishing is more likely, and will be a lot easier anyway,’
he said grimly to himself, as he sheathed Sting and
turned from the brazen doors. Slowly he groped his way
back in the dark along the tunnel, not daring to use the
elven-light; and as he went he tried to fit together the events
since Frodo and he had left the Cross-roads. He wondered
what the time was. Somewhere between one day and the
next, he supposed; but even of the days he had quite lost
count. He was in a land of darkness where the days of the
world seemed forgotten, and where all who entered were
forgotten too.
‘I wonder if they think of us at all,’ he said, ‘and what is