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Quickly they slunk out of sight behind a brown and stunted bush。 The voices drew nearer。 Presently
two orcs came into view。 One was clad in ragged brown and was armed with a bow of horn； it was
of a small breed； black…skinned； with wide and snuffling nostrils： evidently a tracker of some kind。
The other was a big fighting…orc； like those of Shagrat's pany； bearing the token of the Eye。 He
also had a bow at his back and carried a short broad…headed spear。 As usual they were quarrelling；
and being of different breeds they used the mon Speech after their fashion。
Hardly twenty paces from where the hobbits lurked the small orc stopped。 'Nar！' it snarled。 'I'm
going home。' It pointed across the valley to the orc…hold。 'No good wearing my nose out on stones
any more。 There's not a trace left； I 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 es 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。
'You e back；' shouted the soldier； 'or I'll report you！'
'Who to？ Not to your precious Shagrat。 He won't be captain any more。'
'I'll give your name and number to the Nazg？l；' said the soldier lowering his voice to a hiss。 'One
of _them_'s in charge at the Tower now。'
The other halted； and his voice was full of fear and rage。 'You cursed peaching sneakthief！' he
yelled。 'You can't do your job； and you can't even stick by your own folk。 Go to your filthy
Shriekers； and may they freeze the flesh off you！ If the enemy doesn't get them first。 They've done
in Number One； I've heard； and I hope it's true！'
The big orc； spear in hand； leapt after him。 But the tracker； springing behind a stone； put an
arrow in his eye as he ran up； and he fell with a crash。 The other ran off across the valley and
disappeared。
For a while the hobbits sat in silence。 At length Sam stirred。 'Well I call that neat as neat；' he
said。 'If this nice friendliness would spread about in Mordor； half our trouble would be over。'
'Quietly； Sam；' Frodo whispered。 'There may be others about。 We have evidently had a very
narrow escape； and the hunt was hotter on our tracks than we guessed。 But that is the spirit of
Mordor； Sam； and it has spread to every corner of it。 Orcs have always behaved like that； or so all
tales say； when they are on their own。 But you can't get much hope out of it。 They hate us far more；
altogether and all the time。 If those two had seen us； they would have dropped all their quarrel until
we were dead。'
There was another long silence。 Sam broke it again； but with a whisper this time。 'Did you hear
what they said about _that gobbler_； Mr。 Frodo？ I told you Gollum wasn't dead yet； didn't I？'
'Yes； I remember。 And I wondered how you knew；' said Frodo。 'Well e now！ I think we had
better not move out from here again； until it has gone quite dark。 So you shall tell me how you
know； and all about what happened。 If you can do it quietly。'
'I'll try；' said Sam； 'but when I think of that Stinker I get so hot l could shout。'
There the hobbits sat under the cover of the thorny bush； while the drear light of Mordor faded
slowly into a deep and starless night； and Sam spoke into Frodo's ear all that he could find words
for of Gollum's treacherous attack； the horror of Shelob； and his own adventures with the orcs。
When he had finished； Frodo said nothing but took Sam's hand and pressed it。 At length he stirred。
'Well； I suppose we must be going on again；' he said。 'I wonder how long it will be before we
really are caught and all the toiling and the slinking will be over； and in vain。' He stood up。 'It's dark；
and we cannot use the Lady's glass。 Keep it safe for me； Sam。 I have nowhere to keep it now；
except in my hand； and I shall need both hands in the blind night。 But Sting I give to you。 I have
got an orc…blade； but I do not think it will be my part to strike any blow again。'
It was difficult and dangerous moving in the night in the pathless land； but slowly and with
much stumbling the two hobbits toiled on hour by hour northward along the eastern edge of the
stony valley。 When a grey light crept back over the western heights； long after day had opened in
the lands beyond； they went into hiding again and slept a little； turn by turn。 In his times of waking
Sam was busy with thoughts of food。 At last when Frodo roused himself and spoke of eating and
making ready for yet another effort； he asked the question that was troubling him most。
'Begging your pardon； Mr。 Frodo；' he said； 'but have you any notion how far there is still to go？'
'No； not any clear notion； Sam；' Frodo answered。 'In Rivendell before I set out I was shown a
map of Mordor that was made before the Enemy came back here； but I only remember it vaguely。 I
remember clearest that there was a place in the north where the western range and the northern
range send out spurs that nearly meet。 That must be twenty leagues at least from the bridge back by
the Tower。 It might be a good point at which to cross。 But of course； if we get there； we shall be
further than we were from the Mountain； sixty miles from it； I should think。 I guess that we have
gone about twelve leagues north from the bridge now。 Even if all goes well； I could hardly reach
the Mountain in a week。 I am afraid； Sam； that the burden will get very heavy； and I shall go still
slower as we get nearer。'
Sam sighed。 'That's just as I feared；' he said。 'Well； to say nothing of water； we've got to eat less；
Mr。 Frodo； or else move a bit quicker； at any rate while we're still in this valley。 One more bite and
all the food's ended； save the Elves' waybread。'
'I'll try and be a bit quicker； Sam；' said Frodo； drawing a deep breath。 'e on then！ Let's start
another march！'
It was not yet quite dark again。 They plodded along； on into the night。 The hours passed in a
weary stumbling trudge with a few brief halts。 At the first hint of grey light under the skirts of the
canopy of shadow they hid themselves again in a dark hollow under an overhanging stone。
Slowly the light grew； until it was clearer than it yet had been。 A strong wind from the West was
now driving the fumes of Mordor from the upper airs。 Before long the hobbits could make out the
shape of the land for some miles about them。 The trough between the mountains and the Morgai
had steadily dwindled as it climbed upwards； and the inner ridge was now no more than a shelf in
the steep faces of the Ephel Dúath； but to the east it fell as sheerly as ever down into Gorgoroth。
Ahead the water…course came to an end in broken steps of rock； for out from the main range there
sprang a high barren spur； thrusting eastward like a wall。 To meet it there stretched out from the
grey and misty northern range of Ered Lithui a long jutting arm； and between the ends there was a
narrow gap： Carach Angren； the Isenmouthe； beyond which lay the deep dale of Ud？n。 In that dale
behind the Morannon were the tunnels and deep armouries that the servants of Mordor had made
for the defence of the Black Gate of their land； and there now their Lord was gathering in haste
great forces to meet the onslaught of the Captains of the West。 Upon the out…thrust spurs forts and
towers were built； and wat