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‘So that's it； is it？' yelled Shagrat。 'You'll do this； and you'll not do that？ And when he does e；
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 a yelp darted back into the turret and disappeared。 Then Shagrat halted。 Out of
the eastward door Sam could see him now by the parapet； panting； his left claw clenching and
unclenching feebly。 He put the bundle on the floor and with his right claw drew out a long red knife
and spat on it。 Going to the parapet he leaned over； looking down into the outer court far below。
Twice he shouted but no answer came。
Suddenly； as Shagrat was stooped over the battlement； his back to the roof…top； Sam to his
amazement saw that one of the sprawling bodies was moving。 It was crawling。 It put out a claw and
clutched the bundle。 It staggered up。 In its other hand it held a broad…headed spear with a short
broken haft。 It was poised for a stabbing thrust。 But at that very moment a hiss escaped its teeth； a
gasp of pain or hate。 Quick as a snake Shagrat slipped aside； twisted round； and drove his knife into
his enemy's throat。
‘Got you； Gorbag！' he cried。 'Not quite dead； eh？ Well； I'll finish my job now。' He sprang on to
the fallen body； and stamped and trampled it in his fury； stooping now and again to stab and slash it
with his knife。 Satisfied at last； he threw back his head and let out a horrible gurgling yell of
triumph。 Then he licked his knife； and put it between his teeth； and catching up the bundle he came
loping towards the near door of the stairs。
Sam had no time to think。 He might have slipped out of the other door； but hardly without being
seen； and he could not have played hide…and…seek with this hideous orc for long。 He did what was
probably the best thing he could have done。 He sprang out to meet Shagrat with a shout。 He was no
longer holding the Ring； but it was there； a hidden power； a cowing menace to the slaves of Mordor；
and in his hand was Sting； and its light smote the eyes of the orc like the glitter of cruel stars in the
terrible elf…countries； the dream of which was a cold fear to all his kind。 And Shagrat could not both
fight and keep hold of his treasure。 He stopped； growling； baring his fangs。 Then once more； orc…
fashion； he leapt aside； and as Sam sprang at him； using the heavy bundle as both shield and
weapon； he thrust it hard into his enemy's face。 Sam staggered； and before he could recover；
Shagrat darted past and down the stairs。
Sam ran after him； cursing； but he did not go far。 Soon the thought of Frodo returned to him； and
he remembered that the other orc had gone back into the turret。 Here was another dreadful choice；
and he had no time to ponder it。 If Shagrat got away； he would soon get help and e back。 But if
Sam pursued him； the other orc might do some horrible deed up there。 And anyway Sam might
miss Shagrat or be killed by him。 He turned quickly and ran back up the stairs。 ‘Wrong again； I
expect；' he sighed。 ‘But it's my job to go right up to the top first； whatever happens afterwards。'
Away below Shagrat went leaping down the stairs and out over the court and through the gate；
bearing his precious burden。 If Sam could have seen him and known the grief that his escape would
bring； he might have quailed。 But now his mind was set on the last stage of his search。 He came
cautiously to the turret…door and stepped inside。 It opened into darkness。 But soon his staring eyes
were aware of a dim light at his right hand。 It came from an opening that led to another stairway；
dark and narrow： it appeared to go winding up the turret along the inside of its round outer wall。 A
torch was glimmering from somewhere up above。
Softly Sam began to climb。 He came to the guttering torch； fixed above a door on his left that
faced a window…slit looking out westward： one of the red eyes that he and Frodo had seen from
down below by the tunnel's mouth。 Quickly Sam passed the door and hurried on to the second
storey； dreading at any moment to he attacked and to feel throttling fingers seize his throat from
behind。 He came next to a window looking east and another torch above the door to a passage
through the middle of the turret。 The door was open； the passage dark save for the glimmer of the
torch and the red glare from outside filtering through the window…slit。 But here the stair stopped
and climbed no further。 Sam crept into the passage。 On either side there was a low door； both were
closed and locked。 There was no sound at all。
‘A dead end；' muttered Sam； ‘and after all my climb！ This can't be the top of the tower。 But what
can I do now？'
He ran back to the lower storey and tried the door。 It would not move。 He ran up again； and
sweat began to trickle down his face。 He felt that even minutes were precious； but one by one they
escaped； and he could do nothing。 He cared no longer for Shagrat or Snaga or any other orc that
was ever spawned。 He longed only for his master； for one sight of his face or one touch of his hand。
At last； weary and feeling finally defeated； he sat on a step below the level of the passage…floor
and bowed his head into his hands。 It was quiet； horribly quiet。 The torch； that was already burning
low when he arrived； sputtered and went out； and he felt the darkness cover him like a tide。 And
then softly； to his own surprise； there at the vain end of his long journey and his grief； moved by
what thought in his heart he could not tell； Sam began to sing。
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