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the tower of cirith ungol 1181
of steel had snapped to behind him, that their vigilance was
renewed. And from those evil heads there came a high shrill
cry that echoed in the towering walls before him. Far up
above, like an answering signal, a harsh bell clanged a single
stroke.
‘That’s done it!’ said Sam. ‘Now I’ve rung the front-door
bell! Well, come on somebody!’ he cried. ‘Tell Captain
Shagrat that the great Elf-warrior has called, with his elfsword
too!’
There was no answer. Sam strode forward. Sting glittered
blue in his hand. The courtyard lay in deep shadow, but he
could see that the pavement was strewn with bodies. Right
at his feet were two orc-archers with knives sticking in their
backs. Beyond lay many more shapes; some singly as they
had been hewn down or shot; others in pairs, still grappling
one another, dead in the very throes of stabbing, throttling,
biting. The stones were slippery with dark blood.
Two liveries Sam noticed, one marked by the Red Eye, the
other by a Moon disfigured with a ghastly face of death; but
he did not stop to look more closely. Across the court a great
door at the foot of the Tower stood half open, and a red light
came through; a large orc lay dead upon the threshold. Sam
sprang over the body and went in; and then he peered about
at a loss.
A wide and echoing passage led back from the door
towards the mountain-side. It was dimly lit with torches flaring
in brackets on the walls, but its distant end was lost in
gloom. Many doors and openings could be seen on this side
and that; but it was empty save for two or three more bodies
sprawling on the floor. From what he had heard of the captains’
talk Sam knew that, dead or alive, Frodo would most
likely be found in a chamber high up in the turret far above;
but he might search for a day before he found the way.
‘It’ll be near the back, I guess,’ Sam muttered. ‘The whole
Tower climbs backwards-like. And anyway I’d better follow
these lights.’