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his burden。 As it drew near the great furnaces where； in the deeps of time； it had been shaped and
forged； the Ring's power grew； and it became more fell； untameable save by some mighty will。 As
Sam stood there； even though the Ring was not on him but hanging by its chain about his neck； he
felt himself enlarged； as if he were robed in a huge distorted shadow of himself； a vast and ominous
threat halted upon the walls of Mordor。 He felt that he had from now on only two choices： to
forbear the Ring； though it would torment him； or to claim it； and challenge the Power that sat in its
dark hold beyond the valley of shadows。 Already the Ring tempted him； gnawing at his will and
reason。 Wild fantasies arose in his mind； and he saw Samwise the Strong； Hero of the Age； striding
with a flaming sword across the darkened land； and armies flocking to his call as he marched to the
overthrow of Barad…d？r。 And then all the clouds rolled away； and the white sun shone； and at his
mand the vale of Gorgoroth became a garden of flowers and trees and brought forth fruit。 He
had only to put on the Ring and claim it for his own； and all this could be。
In that hour of trial it was the love of his master that helped most to hold him firm； but also deep
down in him lived still unconquered his plain hobbit…sense： he knew in the core of his heart that he
was not large enough to bear such a burden； even if such visions were not a mere cheat to betray
him。 The one small garden of a free gardener was all his need and due； not a garden swollen to a
realm； his own hands to use； not the hands of others to mand。
'And anyway all these notions are only a trick；' he said to himself。 'He'd spot me and cow me；
before I could so much as shout out。 He'd spot me； pretty quick； if I put the Ring on now； in Mordor。
Well； all I can say is： things look as hopeless as a frost in spring。 Just when being invisible would
be really useful； I can't use the Ring！ And if ever I get any further； it's going to be nothing but a
drag and a burden every step。 So what's to be done？'
He was not really in any doubt。 He knew that he must go down to the gate and not linger any
more。 With a shrug of his shoulders； as if to shake off the shadow and dismiss the phantoms； he
began slowly to descend。 With each step he seemed to diminish。 He had not gone far before he had
shrunk again to a very small and frightened hobbit。 He was now passing under the very walls of the
Tower； and the cries and sounds of fighting could be heard with his unaided ears。 At the moment
the noise seemed to be ing from the court behind the outer wall。
Sam was about half way down the path when out of the dark gateway into the red glow there
came two orcs running。 They did not turn towards him。 They were making for the main road； but
even as they ran they stumbled and fell to the ground and lay still。 Sam had seen no arrows； but he
guessed that the orcs had been shot down by others on the battlements or hidden in the shadow of
the gate。 He went on； hugging the wall on his left。 One look upward had shown him that there was
no hope of climbing it。 The stone…work rose thirty feet； without a crack or ledge； to overhanging
courses like inverted steps。 The gate was the only way。
He crept on； and as he went he wondered how many orcs lived in the Tower with Shagrat； and
how many Gorbag had； and what they were quarrelling about； if that was what was happening。
Shagrat's pany had seemed to be about forty； and Gorbag's more than twice as large； but of
course Shagrat's patrol had only been a part of his garrison。 Almost certainly they were quarrelling
about Frodo； and the spoil。 For a second Sam halted； for suddenly things seemed clear to him；
almost as if he had seen them with his eyes。 The mithril coat！ Of course； Frodo was wearing it； and
they would find it。 And from what Sam had heard Gorbag would covet it。 But the orders of the
Dark Tower were at present Frodo's only protection； and if they were set aside； Frodo might be
killed out of hand at any moment。
'e on； you miserable sluggard！' Sam cried to himself。 ‘Now for it！' He drew Sting and ran
towards the open gate。 But just as he was about to pass under its great arch he felt a shock： as if he
had run into some web like Shelob's； only invisible。 He could see no obstacle； but something too
strong for his will to overe barred the way。 He looked about； and then within the shadow of the
gate he saw the Two Watchers。
They were like great figures seated upon thrones。 Each had three joined bodies； and three heads
facing outward； and inward； and across the gateway。 The heads had vulture…faces； and on their
great knees were laid clawlike hands。 They seemed to be carved out of huge blocks of stone；
immovable； and yet they were aware： some dreadful spirit of evil vigilance abode in them。 They
knew an enemy。 Visible or invisible none could pass unheeded。 They would forbid his entry； or his
escape。
Hardening his will Sam thrust forward once again； and halted with a jerk； staggering as if from a
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