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blow upon his breast and head。 Then greatly daring； because he could think of nothing else to do；
answering a sudden thought that came to him； he drew slowly out the phial of Galadriel and held it
up。 Its white light quickened swiftly； and the shadows under the dark arch fled。 The monstrous
Watchers sat there cold and still； revealed in all their hideous shape。 For a moment Sam caught a
glitter in the black stones of their eyes； the very malice of which made him quail； but slowly he felt
their will waver and crumble into fear。
He sprang past them； but even as he did so； thrusting the phial back into his bosom； he was
aware； as plainly as if a bar 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； e on somebody！' he
cried。 ‘Tell Captain Shagrat that the great Elf…warrior has called； with his elf…sword 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。'
He advanced down the passage； but slowly now； each step more reluctant。 Terror was beginning
to grip him again。 There was no sound save the rap of his feet； which seemed to grow to an echoing
noise； like the slapping of great hands upon the stones。 The dead bodies： the emptiness； the dank
black walls that in the torchlight seemed to drip with blood； the fear of sudden death lurking in
doorway or shadow； and behind all his mind the waiting watchful malice at the gate： it was almost
more than he could screw himself to face。 He would have weled a fight…with not too many
enemies at a time – rather than this hideous brooding uncertainty。 He forced himself to think of
Frodo； lying bound or in pain or dead somewhere in this dreadful place。 He went on。
He had passed beyond the torchlight； almost to a great arched door at the end of the passage； the
inner side of the under gate； as he rightly guessed； when there came from high above a dreadful
choking shriek。 He stopped short。 Then he heard feet ing。 Someone was running in great haste
down an echoing stairway overhead。
His will was too weak and slow to restrain his hand。 It dragged at the chain and clutched the
Ring。 But Sam did not put it on； for even as he clasped it to his breast； an orc came clattering down。
Leaping out of a dark opening at the right； it ran towards him。 It was no more than six paces from
him when； lifting its head； it saw him； and Sam could hear its gasping breath and see the glare in its
bloodshot eyes。 It stopped short aghast。 For what it saw was not a small frightened hobbit trying to
hold a steady sword： it saw a great silent shape； cloaked in a grey shadow； looming against the
wavering light behind； in one hand it held a sword； the very light of which was a bitter pain； the
other was clutched at its breast； but held concealed some nameless menace of power and doom。
For a moment the orc crouched； and then with a hideous yelp of fear it turned and fled back as it
had e。 Never was any dog more heartened when its enemy turned tail than Sam at this
unexpected flight。 With a shout he gave chase。
‘Yes！ The Elf…warrior is loose！' he cried。 'I'm ing。 Just you show me the way up； or I'll skin
you！'
But the orc was in its own haunts； nimble and well…fed。 Sam was a stranger； hungry and weary。
The stairs were high and steep and winding。 Sam's breath began to e in gasps。 The orc had soon
passed out of sight； and now only faintly could be heard the slapping of its feet as it went on and up。
Every now and again it gave a yell； and the echo ran along the walls。 But slowly all sound of it died
away。
Sam plodded on。 He felt that he was on the right road； and his spirits had risen a good deal。 He
thrust the Ring away and tightened his belt。 ‘Well； well！' he said。 ‘If only they all take such a
dislike to me and my Sting； this may turn out better than I hoped。 And anyway it looks as if Shagrat；
Gorbag； and pany have done nearly all my job for me。 Except for that little frightened rat； I do
believe there's nobody left alive in the place！'
And with that he stopped； brought up hard； as if he had hit his head against the stone wall。 The
full meaning of what he had said struck him like a blow。 Nobody left alive！ Whose had been that
horrible dying shriek？ ‘Frodo； Frodo！ Master！' he cried half sobbing。 'If they've killed you； what
shall I do？ Well； I'm ing at last； right to the top； to see what I must。'
Up； up he went。 It was dark save for an occasional torch flaring at a turn； or beside some
opening that led into the higher levels of the Tower。 Sam tried to count the steps； but after two
hundred he lost his reckoning。 He was moving quietly now： for he thought that he could hear the
sound of voices talking； still some way above。 More than one rat remained alive； it seemed。
All at once； when he felt that he could pump out no more breath； nor force his knees to bend
again； the stair ended。 He stood still。 The voices were now loud and near。 Sam peered about。 He
had climbed right to the flat roof of the third and highest tier of the Tower： an open space； about
twenty yards across； with a low parapet。 There the stair was covered by a small domed chamber in
the midst of the roof； with low doors facing east and west。 Eastward Sam could see the plain of
Mordor vast and dark below； and the burning mountain far away。 A fresh turmoil was surging in its
deep wells； and the rivers of fire blazed so fiercely that even at this distance of many miles the light
of them lit the tower…top with a red glare。 Westward the view was blocked by the base of the great
turret that stood at the back of this upper court and reared its horn high above the crest of the
encircling hills。 Light gleamed in a window…slit。 Its door was not ten yards from where Sam stood。
It was open but dark； and from just within its shadow the voices came。
At first Sam did not listen； he took a pace out of the eastward door and looked about。 At once he
saw that up here the fighting had been fiercest。 All the court was choked with dead orcs or their
severed and scattered heads and limbs。 The place stank of death。 A snarl followed by a blow and a
cry sent him darting back into hiding。 An orc…voice rose in anger； and he knew it again at once；
harsh； brutal； cold。 It was Shagrat speaking； Captain of the Tower。
‘You won't go again； you say？ Curse you； Snaga； you little maggot！ If you think I'm so damaged
that it's safe to flout me； you're mistaken e here； and I'll squee