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the tower of cirith ungol 1185
‘I’m not going down those stairs again,’ growled Snaga,
‘be you captain or no. Nar! Keep your hands off your knife,
or I’ll put an arrow in your guts. You won’t be a captain long
when They hear about all these goings-on. I’ve fought for
the Tower against those stinking Morgul-rats, but a nice mess
you two precious captains have made of things, fighting over
the swag.’
‘That’s enough from you,’ snarled Shagrat. ‘I had my
orders. It was Gorbag started it, trying to pinch that pretty
shirt.’
‘Well, you put his back up, being so high and mighty. And
he had more sense than you anyway. He told you more than
once that the most dangerous of these spies was still loose,
and you wouldn’t listen. And you won’t listen now. Gorbag
was right, I tell you. There’s a great fighter about, one of
those bloody-handed Elves, or one of the filthy tarks.* He’s
coming here, I tell you. You heard the bell. He’s got past the
Watchers, and that’s tark’s work. He’s on the stairs. And until
he’s off them, I’m not going down. Not if you were a Nazgûl,
I wouldn’t.’
‘So that’s it, is it?’ yelled Shagrat. ‘You’ll do this, and you’ll
not do that? And when he does come, you’ll bolt and leave
me? No, you won’t! I’ll put red maggot-holes in your belly
first.’
Out of the turret-door the smaller orc came flying. Behind
him came Shagrat, a large orc with long arms that, as he ran
crouching, reached to the ground. But one arm hung limp
and seemed to be bleeding; the other hugged a large black
bundle. In the red glare Sam, cowering behind the stair-door,
caught a glimpse of his evil face as it passed: it was scored
as if by rending claws and smeared with blood; slaver dripped
from its protruding fangs; the mouth snarled like an
animal.
As far as Sam could see, Shagrat hunted Snaga round
the roof, until ducking and eluding him the smaller orc with
* See Appendix F, 1487.