return

1210 the return of the king
say. I’ve lost the scent through giving way to you. It went up
into the hills, not along the valley, I tell you.’
‘Not much use are you, you little snufflers?’ said the big
orc. ‘I reckon eyes are better than your snotty noses.’
‘Then what have you seen with them?’ snarled the other.
‘Garn! You don’t even know what you’re looking for.’
‘Whose blame’s that?’ said the soldier. ‘Not mine. That
comes from Higher Up. First they say it’s a great Elf in bright
armour, then it’s a sort of small dwarf-man, then it must be
a pack of rebel Uruk-hai; or maybe it’s all the lot together.’
‘Ar!’ said the tracker. ‘They’ve lost their heads, that’s what
it is. And some of the bosses are going to lose their skins too,
I guess, if what I hear is true: Tower raided and all, and
hundreds of your lads done in, and prisoner got away. If
that’s the way you fighters go on, small wonder there’s bad
news from the battles.’
‘Who says there’s bad news?’ shouted the soldier.
‘Ar! Who says there isn’t?’
‘That’s cursed rebel-talk, and I’ll stick you, if you don’t
shut it down, see?’
‘All right, all right!’ said the tracker. ‘I’ll say no more and
go on thinking. But what’s the black sneak got to do with it
all? That gobbler with the flapping hands?’
‘I don’t know. Nothing, maybe. But he’s up to no good,
nosing around, I’ll wager. Curse him! No sooner had he
slipped us and run off than word came he’s wanted alive,
wanted quick.’
‘Well, I hope they get him and put him through it,’ growled
the tracker. ‘He messed up the scent back there, pinching
that cast-off mail-shirt that he found, and paddling all round
the place before I could get there.’
‘It saved his life anyhow,’ said the soldier. ‘Why, before I
knew he was wanted I shot him, as neat as neat, at fifty paces
right in the back; but he ran on.’
‘Garn! You missed him,’ said the tracker. ‘First you shoot
wild, then you run too slow, and then you send for the poor
trackers. I’ve had enough of you.’ He loped off.