return

1200 the return of the king
Their cloaks were rent and tattered before they broke free
at last.
‘Now down we go, Sam,’ Frodo whispered. ‘Down into
the valley quick, and then turn northward, as soon as ever
we can.’
Day was coming again in the world outside, and far beyond
the glooms of Mordor the Sun was climbing over the eastern
rim of Middle-earth; but here all was still dark as night. The
Mountain smouldered and its fires went out. The glare faded
from the cliffs. The easterly wind that had been blowing ever
since they left Ithilien now seemed dead. Slowly and painfully
they clambered down, groping, stumbling, scrambling among
rock and briar and dead wood in the blind shadows, down
and down until they could go no further.
At length they stopped, and sat side by side, their backs
against a boulder. Both were sweating. ‘If Shagrat himself
was to offer me a glass of water, I’d shake his hand,’
said Sam.
‘Don’t say such things!’ said Frodo. ‘It only makes it
worse.’ Then he stretched himself out, dizzy and weary, and
he spoke no more for a while. At last with a struggle he got
up again. To his amazement he found that Sam was asleep.
‘Wake up, Sam!’ he said. ‘Come on! It’s time we made
another effort.’
Sam scrambled to his feet. ‘Well I never!’ he said. ‘I
must have dropped off. It’s a long time, Mr. Frodo, since
I had a proper sleep, and my eyes just closed down on
their own.’
Frodo now led the way, northward as near as he could
guess, among the stones and boulders lying thick at the
bottom of the great ravine. But presently he stopped again.
‘It’s no good, Sam,’ he said. ‘I can’t manage it. This mailshirt,
I mean. Not in my present state. Even my mithril-coat
seemed heavy when I was tired. This is far heavier. And
what’s the use of it? We shan’t win through by fighting.’
‘But we may have some to do,’ said Sam. ‘And there’s