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.Here in the northward regions were the mines andforges, and the musterings of long-planned war; and here the Dark Power, movingits armies like pieces on the board, was gathering them together.Its firstmoves, the first feelers of its strength, had been checked upon its westernline, southward and northward.For the moment it withdrew them, and brought upnew forces, massing them about Cirith Gorgor for an avenging stroke.And if ithad also been its purpose to defend the Mountain against all approach, it couldscarcely have done more.'Well!' Sam went on.'Whatever they have to eat and drink, we can't get it.There's no way down that I can see.And we couldn't cross all that open countrycrawling with enemies, even if we did get down.''Still we shall have to try,' said Frodo.'It's no worse than I expected.Inever hoped to get across.I can't see any hope of it now.But I've still gotto do the best I can.At present that is to avoid being captured as long aspossible.So we must still go northwards, I think, and see what it is likewhere the open plain is narrower.''I guess what it'll be like,' said Sam.'Where it's narrower the Orcs and Menwill just be packed closer.You'll see, Mr.Frodo.''I dare say I shall, if we ever get so far,' said Frodo and turned away.They soon found that it was impossible to make their way along the crest of theMorgai, or anywhere along its higher levels, pathless as they were and scoredwith deep ghylls.In the end they were forced to go back down the ravine thatthey had climbed and seek for a way along the valley.It was rough going, forthey dared not cross over to the path on the westward side.After a mile ormore they saw, huddled in a hollow at the cliff's foot, the orc-hold that theyhad guessed was near at hand: a wall and a cluster of stone huts set about thedark mouth of a cave.There was no movement to be seen, but the hobbits creptby cautiously, keeping as much as they could to the thorn-brakes that grewthickly at this point along both sides of the old water-course.They went two or three miles further, and the orc-hold was hidden from sightbehind them; but they had hardly begun to breathe more freely again when harshand loud they heard orc-voices.Quickly they slunk out of sight behind a brownand 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 asmall breed, black-skinned, with wide and snuffling nostrils: evidently atracker of some kind.The other was a big fighting-orc, like those of Shagrat'scompany, bearing the token of the Eye.He also had a bow at his back andcarried a short broad-headed spear.As usual they were quarrelling, and beingof different breeds they used the Common 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.'Nogood 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, notalong the valley, I tell you.''Not much use are you, you little snufflers?' said the big orc.'I reckon eyesare better than your snotty noses.''Then what have you seen with them?' snarled the other.'Garn! You don't evenknow what you're looking for.''Whose blame's that?' said the soldier.'Not mine.That comes from Higher Up.First they say it's a great Elf in bright armour, then it's a sort of smalldwarf-man, then it must be a pack of rebel Uruk-hai; or maybe it's all the lottogether.''Ar!' said the tracker.'They've lost their heads, that's what it is.And someof the bosses are going to lose their skins too, I guess, if what I hear istrue: Tower raided and all, and hundreds of your lads done in, and prisoner gotaway.If that's the way you fighters go on, small wonder there's bad news fromthe 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 theflapping hands?''I don't know.Nothing, maybe.But he's up to no good, nosing around, I'llwager.Curse him! No sooner had he slipped us and run off than word came he'swanted alive, wanted quick.''Well, I hope they get him and put him through it,' growled the tracker.'Hemessed up the scent back there, pinching that cast-off mail-shirt that hefound, 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 wantedI 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 runtoo slow, and then you send for the poor trackers.I've had enough of you.' Heloped off.'You come 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 Nazgûl,' said the soldier lowering hisvoice 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 peachingsneakthief!' he yelled.'You can't do your job, and you can't even stick byyour own folk.Go to your filthy Shriekers, and may they freeze the flesh offyou! If the enemy doesn't get them first.They've done in Number One, I'veheard, and I hope it's true!'The big orc, spear in hand, leapt after him.But the tracker, springing behinda stone, put an arrow in his eye as he ran up, and he fell with a crash.Theother ran off across the valley and disappeared.For a while the hobbits sat in silence.At length Sam stirred.'Well I callthat neat as neat,' he said.'If this nice friendliness would spread about inMordor, half our trouble would be over.''Quietly, Sam,' Frodo whispered.'There may be others about
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