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‘Stripped, eh?’ said Gorbag. ‘What, teeth, nails, hair, and all?’
‘No, none of that. He’s for Lugbúrz, I tell you. He’s wanted safe and whole.’
‘You’ll find that difficult,’ laughed Gorbag. ‘He’s nothing but carrion now. What Lugbúrz will do with such stuff I can’t guess. He might as well go in the pot.’
‘You fool,’ snarled Shagrat. ‘You’ve been talking very clever, but there’s a lot you don’t know, though most other folk do. You’ll be for the pot or for Shelob, if you don’t take care. Carrion! Is that all you know of Her Ladyship? When she binds with cords, she’s after meat. She doesn’t eat dead meat, nor suck cold blood. This fellow isn’t dead!’
Sam reeled, clutching at the stone. He felt as if the whole dark world was turning upside down. So great was the shock that he almost swooned, but even as he fought to keep a hold on his senses, deep inside him he was aware of the comment: ‘You fool, he isn’t dead, and your heart knew it. Don’t trust your head, Samwise, it is not the best part of you. The trouble with you is that you never really had any hope. Now what is to be done?’ For the moment nothing, but to prop himself against the unmoving stone and listen, listen to the vile orc-voices.
‘Garn!’ said Shagrat. ‘She’s got more than one poison. When she’s hunting, she just gives ’em a dab in the neck and they go as limp as boned fish, and then she has her way with them. D’you remember old Ufthak? We lost him for days. Then we found him in a corner; hanging up he was, but he was wide awake and glaring. How we laughed! She’d forgotten him, maybe, but we didn’t touch him – no good interfering with Her. Nar – this little filth, he’ll wake up, in a few hours; and beyond feeling a bit sick for a bit, he’ll be all right. Or would be, if Lugbúrz would let him alone. And of course, beyond wondering where he is and what’s happened to him.’
‘And what’s going to happen to him,’ laughed Gorbag. ‘We can tell him a few stories at any rate, if we can’t do anything else. I don’t suppose he’s ever been in lovely Lugbúrz, so he may like to know what to expect. This is going to be more funny than I thought. Let’s go!’
‘There’s going to be no fun, I tell you,’ said Shagrat. ‘And he’s got to be kept safe, or we’re all as good as dead.’
‘All right! But if I were you, I’d catch the big one that’s loose, before you send in any report to Lugbúrz. It won’t sound too pretty to say you’ve caught the kitten and let the cat escape.’
The voices began to move away. Sam heard the sound of feet receding. He was recovering from his shock, and now a wild fury was on him. ‘I got it all wrong!’ he cried. ‘I knew I would. Now they’ve got him, the devils! the filth! Never leave your master, never, never: that was my right rule. And I knew it in my heart. May I be forgiven! Now I’ve got to get back to him. Somehow, somehow!’
He drew his sword again and beat on the stone with the hilt, but it only gave out a dull sound. The sword, however, blazed so brightly now that he could see dimly in its light. To his surprise he noticed that the great block was shaped like a heavy door, and was less than twice his own height. Above it was a dark blank space between the top and the low arch of the opening. It was probably only meant to be a stop against the intrusion of Shelob, fastened on the inside with some latch or bolt beyond the reach of her cunning. With his remaining strength Sam leaped and caught the top, scrambled up, and dropped; and then he ran madly, sword blazing in hand, round a bend and up a winding tunnel.
The news that his master was still alive roused him to a last effort beyond thought of weariness. He could not see anything ahead, for this new passage twisted and turned constantly; but he thought he was catching the two Orcs up: their voices were growing nearer again. Now they seemed quite close.
‘That’s what I’m going to do,’ said Shagrat in angry tones. ‘Put him right up in the top chamber.’
‘What for?’ growled Gorbag. ‘Haven’t you any lock-ups down below?’
‘He’s going out of harm’s way, I tell you,’ answered Shagrat. ‘See? He’s precious. I don’t trust all my lads, and none of yours; nor you neither, when you’re mad for fun. He’s going where I want him, and where you won’t come, if you don’t keep civil. Up to the top, I say. He’ll be safe there.’
‘Will he?’ said Sam. ‘You’re forgetting the great big Elvish warrior that’s loose!’ And with that he raced round the last corner, only to find that by some trick of the tunnel, or of the hearing which the Ring gave him, he had misjudged the distance.
The two orc-figures were still some way ahead. He could see them now, black and squat against a red glare. The passage ran straight at last, up an incline; and at the end, wide open, were great double doors, leading probably to deep chambers far below the high horn of the tower. Already the Orcs with their burden had passed inside. Gorbag and Shagrat were drawing near the gate.
Sam heard a burst of hoarse singing, blaring of horns and banging of gongs, a hideous clamour. Gorbag and Shagrat were already on the threshold.
Sam yelled and brandished Sting, but his little voice was drowned in the tumult. No one heeded him.
The great doors slammed to. Boom. The bars of iron fell into place inside. Clang. The gate was shut. Sam hurled himself against the bolted brazen plates and fell senseless to the ground. He was out in the darkness. Frodo was alive but taken by the Enemy.
