Lord of the rings - J.R.R Tolkien

The three companions now left the hill-top, where they might be an easy mark against the pale sky, and they walked slowly down the northward slope. A little above the hill''s foot they halted, and wrapping their cloaks about them, they sat huddled together upon the faded grass. The time passed slowly and heavily. The wind was thin and searching. Gimli was uneasy.
''What do you know of these horsemen, Aragorn?'' he said. ''Do we sit here waiting for sudden death?''
''I have been among them,'' answered Aragorn. ''They are proud and wilful, but they are true-hearted, generous in thought and deed; bold but not cruel; wise but unlearned, writing no books but singing many songs, after the manner of the children of Men before the Dark Years. But I do not know what has happened here of late, nor in what mind the Rohirrim may now be between the traitor Saruman and the threat of Sauron. They have long been the friends of the people of Gondor, though they are not akin to them. It was in forgotten years long ago that Eorl the Young brought them out of the North, and their kinship is rather with the Bardings of Dale, and with the Beornings of the Wood, among whom may still be seen many men tall and fair, as are the Riders of Rohan. At least they will not love the Orcs.''
''But Gandalf spoke of a rumour that they pay tribute to Mordor '' said Gimli.
''I believe it no more than did Boromir,'' answered Aragorn.
''You will soon learn the truth,'' said Legolas. ''Already they approach.''
At length even Gimli could hear the distant beat of galloping hoofs. The horsemen, following the trail, had turned from the river, and were drawing near the downs. They were riding like the wind.
Now the cries of clear strong voices came ringing over the fields. Suddenly they swept up with a noise like thunder, and the foremost horseman swerved, passing by the foot of the hill, and leading the host back southward along the western skirts of the downs. After him they rode: a long line of mail-clad men. swift, shining, fell and fair to look upon.
Their horses were of great stature, strong and clean-limbed; their grey coats glistened, their long tails flowed in the wind, their manes were braided on their proud necks. The Men that rode them matched them well: tall and long-limbed; their hair, flaxen-pale, flowed under their light helms, and streamed in long braids behind them; their faces were stern and keen. In their hands were tall spears of ash, painted shields were slung at their backs, long swords were at their belts, their burnished skirts of mail hung down upon their knees.
In pairs they galloped by, and though every now and then one rose in his stirrups and gazed ahead and to either side, they appeared not to perceive the three strangers sitting silently and watching them. The host had almost passed when suddenly Aragorn stood up, and called in a loud voice:
''What news from the North, Riders of Rohan?''
With astonishing speed and skill they checked their steeds, wheeled, and came charging round. Soon the three companions found themselves in a ring of horsemen moving in a running circle, up the hill-slope behind them and down, round and round them, and drawing ever inwards. Aragorn stood silent, and the other two sat without moving, wondering what way things would turn.
Without a word or cry, suddenly, the Riders halted. A thicket of spears were pointed towards the strangers; and some of the horsemen had bows in hand, and their arrows were already fitted to the string. Then one rode forward, a tall man, taller than all the rest; from his helm as a crest a white horsetail flowed. He advanced until the point of his spear was within a foot of Aragorn''s breast. Aragorn did not stir.
''Who are you, and what are you doing in this land?'' said the Rider, using the Common Speech of the West, in manner and tone like to the speech of Boromir, Man of Gondor.
''I am called Strider,'' answered Aragorn. ''I came out of the North. I am hunting Orcs.''
The Rider leaped from his horse. Giving his spear to another who rode up and dismounted at his side, he drew his sword and stood face to face with Aragorn, surveying him keenly, and not without wonder. At length he spoke again.
''At first I thought that you yourselves were Orcs,'' he said; ''but now I see that it is not so. Indeed you know little of Orcs, if you go hunting them in this fashion. They were swift and well-armed, and they were many. You would have changed from hunters to prey, if ever you had overtaken them. But there is something strange about you, Strider.'' He bent his clear bright eyes again upon the Ranger. ''That is no name for a Man that you give. And strange too is your raiment. Have you sprung out of the grass? How did you escape our sight? Are you elvish folk?''
''No,'' said Aragorn. ''One only of us is an Elf, Legolas from the Woodland Realm in distant Mirkwood. But we have passed through Lothlórien, and the gifts and favour of the Lady go with us.''
The Rider looked at them with renewed wonder, but his eyes hardened. ''Then there is a Lady in the Golden Wood, as old tales tell!'' he said. ''Few escape her nets, they say. These are strange days! But if you have her favour, then you also are net-weavers and sorcerers, maybe.'' He turned a cold glance suddenly upon Legolas and Gimli. ''Why do you not speak, silent ones?'' he demanded.
Gimli rose and planted his feet firmly apart: his hand gripped the handle of his axe, and his dark eyes flashed. ''Give me your name, horse-master, and I will give you mine, and more besides,'' he said.
''As for that,'' said the Rider, staring down at the Dwarf, ''the stranger should declare himself first. Yet I am named Éomer son of Éomund, and am called the Third Marshal of Riddermark.''
''Then Éomer son of Éomund, Third Marshal of Riddermark, let Gimli the Dwarf Glóin''s son warn you against foolish words. You speak evil of that which is fair beyond the reach of your thought, and only little wit can excuse you.''
Éomer''s eyes blazed, and the Men of Rohan murmured angrily, and closed in, advancing their spears. ''I would cut off your head, beard and all, Master Dwarf, if it stood but a little higher from the ground '' said Éomer.
''He stands not alone,'' said Legolas, bending his bow and fitting an arrow with hands that moved quicker than sight. ''You would die before your stroke fell.''
Éomer raised his sword, and things might have gone ill, but Aragorn sprang between them, and raised his hand. ''Your pardon, Éomer!'' he cried. ''When you know more you will understand why you have angered my companions. We intend no evil to Rohan, nor to any of its folk, neither to man nor to horse. Will you not hear our tale before you strike?''
''I will,'' said Éomer lowering his blade. ''But wanderers in the Riddermark would be wise to be less haughty in these days of doubt. First tell me your right name.''
''First tell me whom you serve,'' said Aragorn. ''Are you friend or foe of Sauron, the Dark Lord of Mordor?''
''I serve only the Lord of the Mark, Théoden King son of Thengel,'' answered Éomer. ''We do not serve the Power of the Black Land far away, but neither are we yet at open war with him; and if you are fleeing from him, then you had best leave this land. There is trouble now on all our borders, and we are threatened; but we desire only to be free, and to live as we have lived, keeping our own, and serving no foreign lord, good or evil. We welcomed guests kindly in the better days, but in these times the unbidden stranger finds us swift and hard. Come! Who are you? Whom do you serve? At whose command do you hunt Orcs in our land?''
''I serve no man,'' said Aragorn; ''but the servants of Sauron I pursue into whatever land they may go. There are few among mortal Men who know more of Orcs; and I do not hunt them in this fashion out of choice. The Orcs whom we pursued took captive two of my friends. In such need a man that has no horse will go on foot, and he will not ask for leave to follow the trail. Nor will he count the heads of the enemy save with a sword. I am not weaponless.''
Aragorn threw back his cloak. The elven-sheath glittered as he grasped it, and the bright blade of Andúril shone like a sudden flame as he swept it out. ''Elendil!'' he cried. ''I am Aragorn son of Arathorn and am called Elessar, the Elfstone, Dúnadan, the heir of Isildur Elendil''s son of Gondor. Here is the Sword that was Broken and is forged again! Will you aid me or thwart me? Choose swiftly!''
Gimli and Legolas looked at their companion in amazement, for they had not seen him in this mood before. He seemed to have grown in stature while Éomer had shrunk; and in his living face they caught a brief vision of the power and majesty of the kings of stone. For a moment it seemed to the eyes of Legolas that a white flame flickered on the brows of Aragorn like a shining crown.
Éomer stepped back and a look of awe was in his face. He cast down his proud eyes. ''These are indeed strange days,'' he muttered. ''Dreams and legends spring to life out of the grass.
''Tell me, lord,'' he said, ''what brings you here? And what was the meaning of the dark words? Long has Boromir son of Denethor been gone seeking an answer, and the horse that we lent him came back riderless. What doom do you bring out of the North?''
''The doom of choice,'' said Aragorn. ''You may say this to Théoden son of Thengel: open war lies before him, with Sauron or against him. None may live now as they have lived, and few shall keep what they call their own. But of these great matters we will speak later. If chance allows, I will come myself to the king. Now I am in great need, and I ask for help, or at least for tidings. You heard that we are pursuing an orc-host that carried off our friends. What can you tell us?''
''That you need not pursue them further,'' said Éomer. ''The Orcs are destroyed.''
''And our friends?''
''We found none but Orcs.''
''But that is strange indeed,'' said Aragorn. ''Did you search the slain? Were there no bodies other than those of orc-kind? They would be small. Only children to your eyes, unshod but clad in grey.''
''There were no dwarves nor children,'' said Éomer. ''We counted all the slain and despoiled them, and then we piled the carcases and burned them, as is our custom. The ashes are smoking still.''
''We do not speak of dwarves or children,'' said Gimli. ''Our friends were hobbits.''
''Hobbits?'' said Éomer. ''And what may they be? It is a strange name.''
''A strange name for a strange folk,'' said Gimli. ''But these were very dear to us. It seems that you have heard in Rohan of the words that troubled Minas Tirith. They spoke of the Halfling. These hobbits are Halflings.''
''Halflings!'' laughed the Rider that stood beside Éomer. ''Halflings! But they are only a little people in old songs and children''s tales out of the North. Do we walk in legends or on the green earth in the daylight?''
''A man may do both,'' said Aragorn. ''For not we but those who come after will make the legends of our time. The green earth, say you? That is a mighty matter of legend, though you tread it under the light of day!''
''Time is pressing,'' said the Rider, not heeding Aragorn. ''We must hasten south, lord. Let us leave these wild folk to their fancies. Or let us bind them and take them to the king.''

...until the heart betrays​

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''Peace, Éothain!'' said Éomer in his own tongue. ''Leave me a while. Tell the éored to assemble on the path'' and make ready to ride to the Entwade.''
Muttering Éothain retired, and spoke to the others. Soon they drew off and left Éomer alone with the three companions.
''All that you say is strange, Aragorn.'' he said. ''Yet you speak the truth, that is plain: the Men of the Mark do not lie, and therefore they are not easily deceived. But you have not told all. Will you not now speak more fully of your errand, so that I may judge what to do?''
''I set out from Imladris, as it is named in the rhyme, many weeks ago,'' answered Aragorn. ''With me went Boromir of Minas Tirith. My errand was to go to that city with the son of Denethor, to aid his folk in their war against Sauron. But the Company that I journeyed with had other business. Of that I cannot speak now. Gandalf the Grey was our leader.''
''Gandalf!'' Éomer exclaimed. ''Gandalf Greyhame is known in the Mark: but his name, I warn you, is no longer a password to the king''s favour. He has been a guest in the land many times in the memory of men, coming as he will, after a season, or after many years. He is ever the herald of strange events: a bringer of evil, some now say.
''Indeed since his last coming in the summer all things have gone amiss. At that time our trouble with Saruman began. Until then we counted Saruman our friend, but Gandalf came then and warned us that sudden war was preparing in Isengard. He said that he himself had been a prisoner in Orthanc and had hardly escaped, and he begged for help. But Théoden would not listen to him, and he went away. Speak not the name of Gandalf loudly in Théoden''s ears! He is wroth. For Gandalf took the horse that is called Shadowfax, the most precious of all the king''s steeds, chief of the Mearas, which only the Lord of the Mark may ride. For the sire of their race was the great horse of Eorl that knew the speech of Men. Seven nights ago Shadowfax returned; but the king''s anger is not less, for now the horse is wild and will let no man handle him.''
''Then Shadowfax has found his way alone from the far North,'' said Aragorn; ''for it was there that he and Gandalf parted. But alas! Gandalf will ride no longer. He fell into darkness in the Mines of Moria and comes not again.''
''That is heavy tidings,'' said Éomer. ''At least to me, and to many; though not to all, as you may find, if you come to the king.''
''It is tidings more grievous than any in this land can understand, though it may touch them sorely ere the year is much older,'' said Aragorn. ''But when the great fall, the less must lead. My part it has been to guide our Company on the long road from Moria. Through Lórien we came ?" of which it were well that you should learn the truth ere you speak of it again ?" and thence down the leagues of the Great River to the falls of Rauros. There Boromir was slain by the same Orcs whom you destroyed.''
''Your news is all of woe!'' cried Éomer in dismay. ''Great harm is this death to Minas Tirith, and to us all. That was a worthy man! All spoke his praise. He came seldom to the Mark, for he was ever in the wars on the East-borders; but I have seen him. More like to the swift sons of Eorl than to the grave Men of Gondor he seemed to me, and likely to prove a great captain of his people when his time came. But we have had no word of this grief out of Gondor. When did he fall?''
''It is now the fourth day since he was slain,'' answered Aragorn, ''and since the evening of that day we have journeyed from the shadow of Tol Brandir.''
''On foot?'' cried Éomer.
''Yes, even as you see us.''
Wide wonder came into Éomer''s eyes. ''Strider is too poor a name, son of Arathorn,'' he said. ''Wingfoot I name you. This deed of the three friends should be sung in many a hall. Forty leagues and five you have measured ere the fourth day is ended! Hardy is the race of Elendil!
''But now, lord, what would you have me do! I must return in haste to Théoden. I spoke warily before my men. It is true that we are not yet at open war with the Black Land, and there are some, close to the king''s ear, that speak craven counsels; but war is coming. We shall not forsake our old alliance with Gondor, and while they fight we shall aid them: so say I and all who hold with me. The East-mark is my charge. the ward of the Third Marshal, and I have removed all our herds and herdfolk, withdrawing them beyond Entwash, and leaving none here but guards and swift scouts.''
''Then you do not pay tribute to Sauron?'' said Gimli.
''We do not and we never have.'' said Éomer with a flash of his eyes; ''though it comes to my ears that that lie has been told. Some years ago the Lord of the Black Land wished to purchase horses of us at great price, but we refused him. for he puts beasts to evil use. Then he sent plundering Orcs, and they carry off what they can, choosing always the black horses: few of these are now left. For that reason our feud with the Orcs is bitter.
''But at this time our chief concern is with Saruman. He has claimed lordship over all this land, and there has been war between us for many months. He has taken Orcs into his service, and Wolf-riders, and evil Men, and he has closed the Gap against us, so that we are likely to be beset both east and west.
''It is ill dealing with such a foe: he is a wizard both cunning and dwimmer-crafty, having many guises. He walks here and there, they say, as an old man hooded and cloaked, very like to Gandalf, as many now recall. His spies slip through every net, and his birds of ill omen are abroad in the sky. I do not know how it will all end, and my heart misgives me; for it seems to me that his friends do not all dwell in Isengard. But if you come to the king''s house, you shall see for yourself. Will you not come? Do I hope in vain that you have been sent to me for a help in doubt and need?''
''I will come when I may,'' said Aragorn.
''Come now!'' said Éomer. ''The Heir of Elendil would be a strength indeed to the Sons of Eorl in this evil tide. There is battle even now upon the Westemnet, and I fear that it may go ill for us.
''Indeed in this riding north I went without the king''s leave, for in my absence his house is left with little guard. But scouts warned me of the orc-host coming down out of the East Wall three nights ago, and among them they reported that some bore the white badges of Saruman. So suspecting what I most fear, a league between Orthanc and the Dark Tower, I led forth my éored, men of my own household; and we overtook the Orcs at nightfall two days ago, near to the borders of the Entwood. There we surrounded them, and gave battle yesterday at dawn. Fifteen of my men I lost, and twelve horses alas! For the Orcs were greater in number than we counted on. Others joined them. coming out of the East across the Great River: their trail is plain to see a little north of this spot. And others, too, came out of the forest. Great Orcs, who also bore the White Hand of Isengard: that kind is stronger and more fell than all others.
''Nonetheless we put an end to them. But we have been too long away. We are needed south and west. Will you not come? There are spare horses as you see. There is work for the Sword to do. Yes, and we could find a use for Gimli''s axe and the bow of Legolas, if they will pardon my rash words concerning the Lady of the Wood. I spoke only as do all men in my land, and I would gladly learn better.''
''I thank you for your fair words,'' said Aragorn, ''and my heart desires to come with you; but I cannot desert my friends while hope remains.''
''Hope does not remain,'' said Éomer. ''You will not find your friends on the North-borders.''
''Yet my friends are not behind. We found a clear token not far from the East Wall that one at least of them was still alive there. But between the wall and the downs we have found no other trace of them, and no trail has turned aside, this way or that, unless my skill has wholly left me.''
''Then what do you think has become of them?''
''I do not know. They may have been slain and burned among the Orcs; but that you will say cannot be, and I do not fear it. I can only think that they were carried off into the forest before the battle, even before you encircled your foes, maybe. Can you swear that none escaped your net in such a way?''
''I would swear that no Orc escaped after we sighted them,'' said Éomer. ''We reached the forest-eaves before them, and if after that any living thing broke through our ring, then it was no Orc and had some elvish power.''
''Our friends were attired even as we are,'' said Aragorn; ''and you passed us by under the full light of day.''
''I had forgotten that,'' said Éomer. ''It is hard to be sure of anything among so many marvels. The world is all grown strange. Elf and Dwarf in company walk in our daily fields; and folk speak with the Lady of the Wood and yet live; and the Sword comes back to war that was broken in the long ages ere the fathers of our fathers rode into the Mark! How shall a man judge what to do in such times?''
''As he ever has judged,'' said Aragorn. ''Good and ill have not changed since yesteryear; nor are they one thing among Elves and Dwarves µ and another among Men. It is a man''s part to discern them, as much in the Golden Wood as in his own house.''

...until the heart betrays​

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''True indeed,'' said Éomer. ''But I do not doubt you, nor the deed which my heart would do. Yet I am not free to do all as I would. It is against our law to let strangers wander at will in our land, until the king himself shall give them leave, and more strict is the command in these days of peril. I have begged you to come back willingly with me, and you will not. Loth am I to begin a battle of one hundred against three.''
''I do not think your law was made for such a chance,'' said Aragorn. ''Nor indeed am I a stranger; for I have been in this land before, more than once, and ridden with the host of the Rohirrim, though under other name and in other guise. You I have not seen before, for you are young, but I have spoken with Éomund your father, and with Théoden son of Thengel. Never in former days would any high lord of this land have constrained a man to abandon such a quest as mine. My duty at least is clear, to go on. Come now, son of Éomund, the choice must be made at last. Aid us, or at the worst let us go free. Or seek to carry out your law. If you do so there will be fewer to return to your war or to your king.''
Éomer was silent for a moment, then he spoke. ''We both have need of haste,'' he said. ''My company chafes to be away, and every hour lessens your hope. This is my choice. You may go; and what is more, I will lend you horses. This only I ask: when your quest is achieved, or is proved vain, return with the horses over the Entwade to Meduseld, the high house in Edoras where Théoden now sits. Thus you shall prove to him that I have not misjudged. In this I place myself, and maybe my very life, in the keeping of your good faith. Do not fail.''
''I will not,'' said Aragorn.
There was great wonder, and many dark and doubtful glances, among his men, when Éomer gave orders that the spare horses were to be lent to the strangers; but only Éothain dared to speak openly.
''It may be well enough for this lord of the race of Gondor, as he claims,'' he said, ''but who has heard of a horse of the Mark being given to a Dwarf?''
''No one,'' said Gimli. ''And do not trouble: no one will ever hear of it. I would sooner walk than sit on the back of any beast so great, free or begrudged.''
''But you must ride now, or you will hinder us,'' said Aragorn.
''Come, you shall sit behind me, friend Gimli, said Legolas. Then all will be well, and you need neither borrow a horse nor be troubled by one.''
A great dark-grey horse was brought to Aragorn, and he mounted it. ''Hasufel is his name,'' said Éomer. ''May he bear you well and to better fortune than Gárulf, his late master!''
A smaller and lighter horse, but restive and fiery, was brought to Legolas. Arod was his name. But Legolas asked them to take off saddle and rein. ''I need them not,'' he said, and leaped lightly up, and to their wonder Arod was tame and willing beneath him, moving here and there with but a spoken word: such was the elvish way with all good beasts. Gimli was lifted up behind his friend. and he clung to him, not much more at ease than Sam Gamgee in a boat.
''Farewell, and may you find what you seek!'' cried Éomer. ''Return with what speed you may, and let our swords hereafter shine together!''
''I will come,'' said Aragorn.
''And I will come, too,'' said Gimli. ''The matter of the Lady Galadriel lies still between us. I have yet to teach you gentle speech. ''
''We shall see,'' said Éomer. ''So many strange things have chanced that to learn the praise of a fair lady under the loving strokes of a Dwarf''s axe will seem no great wonder. Farewell!''
With that they parted. Very swift were the horses of Rohan. When after a little Gimli looked back, the company of Éomer were already small and far away. Aragorn did not look back: he was watching the trail as they sped on their way, bending low with his head beside the neck of Hasufel. Before long they came to the borders of the Entwash, and there they met the other trail of which Éomer had spoken, coming down from the East out of the Wold.
Aragorn dismounted and surveyed the ground, then leaping back into the saddle, he rode away for some distance eastward, keeping to one side and taking care not to override the footprints. Then he again dismounted and examined the ground, going backwards and forwards on foot.
''There is little to discover,'' he said when he returned. ''The main trail is all confused with the passage of the horsemen as they came back; their outward course must have lain nearer the river. But this eastward trail is fresh and clear. There is no sign there of any feet going the other way, back towards Anduin. Now we must ride slower, and make sure that no trace or footstep branches off on either side. The Orcs must have been aware from this point that they were pursued; they may have made some attempt to get their captives away before they were overtaken.''
As they rode forward the day was overcast. Low grey clouds came over the Wold. A mist shrouded the sun. Ever nearer the tree-clad slopes of Fangorn loomed, slowly darkling as the sun went west. They saw no sign of any trail to right or left, but here and there they passed single Orcs, fallen in their tracks as they ran, with grey-feathered arrows sticking in back or throat.
At last as the afternoon was waning they came to the eaves of the forest, and in an open glade among the first trees they found the place of the great burning: the ashes were still hot and smoking. Beside it was a great pile of helms and mail, cloven shields, and broken swords, bows and darts and other gear of war. Upon a stake in the middle was set a great goblin head; upon its shattered helm the white badge could still be seen. Further away, not far from the river, where it came streaming out from the edge of the wood, there was a mound. It was newly raised: the raw earth was covered with fresh-cut turves: about it were planted fifteen spears.
Aragorn and his companions searched far and wide about the field of battle, but the light faded, and evening soon drew down, dim and misty. By nightfall they had discovered no trace of Merry and Pippin.
''We can do no more,'' said Gimli sadly. ''We have been set many riddles since we came to Tol Brandir, but this is the hardest to unravel. I would guess that the burned bones of the hobbits are now mingled with the Orcs''. It will be hard news for Frodo, if he lives to hear it; and hard too for the old hobbit who waits in Rivendell. Elrond was against their coming.''
''But Gandalf was not,'' said Legolas.
''But Gandalf chose to come himself, and he was the first to be lost '' answered Gimli. ''His foresight failed him.''
''The counsel of Gandalf was not founded on foreknowledge of safety, for himself or for others,'' said Aragorn. ''There are some things that it is better to begin than to refuse, even though the end may be dark. But I shall not depart from this place yet. In any case we must here await the morning-light.''
A little way beyond the battle-field they made their camp under a spreading tree: it looked like a chestnut, and yet it still bore many broad brown leaves of a former year, like dry hands with long splayed fingers; they rattled mournfully in the night-breeze.
Gimli shivered. They had brought only one blanket apiece. ''Let us light a fire,'' he said. ''I care no longer for the danger. Let the Orcs come as thick as summer-moths round a candle!''
''If those unhappy hobbits are astray in the woods, it might draw them hither,'' said Legolas.
''And it might draw other things, neither Orc nor Hobbit,'' said Aragorn. ''We are near to the mountain-marches of the traitor Saruman. Also we are on the very edge of Fangorn, and it is perilous to touch the trees of that wood, it is said.''
''But the Rohirrim made a great burning here yesterday,'' said Gimli, ''and they felled trees for the fire, as can be seen. Yet they passed the night after safely here, when their labour was ended.''
''They were many,'' said Aragorn, ''and they do not heed the wrath of Fangorn, for they come here seldom, and they do not go under the trees. But our paths are likely to lead us into the very forest itself. So have a care! Cut no living wood!''
''There is no need,'' said Gimli. ''The Riders have left chip and bough enough, and there is dead wood lying in plenty.'' He went off to gather fuel, and busied himself with building and kindling a fire; but Aragorn sat silent with his back to the great tree, deep in thought; and Legolas stood alone in the open, looking towards the profound shadow of the wood, leaning forward, as one who listens to voices calling from a distance.
When the Dwarf had a small bright blaze going, the three companions drew close to it and sat together, shrouding the light with their hooded forms. Legolas looked up at the boughs of the tree reaching out above them.
''Look!'' he said. ''The tree is glad of the fire!''
It may have been that the dancing shadows tricked their eyes, but certainly to each of the companions the boughs appeared to be bending this way and that so as to come above the flames, while the upper branches were stooping down; the brown leaves now stood out stiff, and rubbed together like many cold cracked hands taking comfort in the warmth.
There was a silence, for suddenly the dark and unknown forest, so near at hand, made itself felt as a great brooding presence, full of secret purpose. After a while Legolas spoke again.
''Celeborn warned us not to go far into Fangorn,'' he said. ''Do you know why, Aragorn? What are the fables of the forest that Boromir had heard?''
''I have heard many tales in Gondor and elsewhere,'' said Aragorn, ''but if it were not for the words of Celeborn I should deem them only fables that Men have made as true knowledge fades. I had thought of asking you what was the truth of the matter. And if an Elf of the Wood does not know, how shall a Man answer?''
''You have journeyed further than I,'' said Legolas. ''I have heard nothing of this in my own land, save only songs that tell how the Onodrim, that Men call Ents, dwelt there long ago; for Fangorn is old, old even as the Elves would reckon it.''
''Yes, it is old,'' said Aragorn, ''as old as the forest by the Barrow-downs, and it is far greater. Elrond says that the two are akin, the last strongholds of the mighty woods of the Elder Days, in which the Firstborn roamed while Men still slept. Yet Fangorn holds some secret of its own. What it is I do not know.''
''And I do not wish to know,'' said Gimli. ''Let nothing that dwells in Fangorn be troubled on my account!''
They now drew lots for the watches, and the lot for the first watch fell to Gimli. The others lay down. Almost at once sleep laid hold on them. ''Gimli!'' said Aragorn drowsily. ''Remember, it is perilous to cut bough or twig from a living tree in Fangorn. But do not stray far in search of dead wood. Let the fire die rather! Call me at need!''
With that he fell asleep. Legolas already lay motionless, his fair hands folded upon his breast, his eyes unclosed, blending living night and deep dream, as is the way with Elves. Gimli sat hunched by the fire, running his thumb thoughtfully along the edge of his axe. The tree rustled. There was no other sound.
Suddenly Gimli looked up, and there just on the edge of the fire-light stood an old bent man, leaning on a staff, and wrapped in a great cloak; his wide-brimmed hat was pulled down over his eyes. Gimli sprang up, too amazed for the moment to cry out, though at once the thought flashed into his mind that Saruman had caught them. Both Aragorn and Legolas, roused by his sudden movement, sat up and stared. The old man did not speak or make, sign.
''Well, father, what can we do for you?'' said Aragorn, leaping to his feet. ''Come and be warm, if you are cold!'' He strode forward, but the old man was gone. There was no trace of him to be found near at hand, and they did not dare to wander far. The moon had set and the night was very dark.
Suddenly Legolas gave a cry. ''The horses! The horses!''
The horses were gone. They had dragged their pickets and disappeared. For me time the three companions stood still and silent, troubled by this new stroke of ill fortune. They were under the eaves of Fangorn, and endless leagues lay between them and the Men of Rohan, their only friends in this wide and dangerous land. As they stood, it seemed to them that they heard, far off in the night. the sound of horses whinnying and neighing. Then all was quiet again, except for the cold rustle of the wind.
''Well, they are gone,'' said Aragorn at last. ''We cannot find them or catch them; so that if they do not return of their own will, we must do without. We started on our feet, and we have those still.''
''Feet!'' said Gimli. ''But we cannot eat them as well as walk on them '' He threw some fuel on the fire and slumped down beside it.
''Only a few hours ago you were unwilling to sit on a horse of Rohan,'' laughed Legolas. ''You will make a rider yet.''

...until the heart betrays​

 ​

''It seems unlikely that I shall have the chance,'' said Gimli.
''If you wish to know what I think,'' he began again after a while ''I think it was Saruman. Who else? Remember the words of Éomer: he walks about like an old man hooded and cloaked. Those were the words. He has gone off with our horses, or scared them away, and here we are. There is more trouble coming to us, mark my words!''
''I mark them,'' said Aragorn. ''But I marked also that this old man had a hat not a hood. Still I do not doubt that you guess right, and that we are in peril here, by night or day. Yet in the meantime there is nothing that we can do but rest, while we may. I will watch for a while now, Gimli. I have more need of thought than of sleep.''
The night passed slowly. Legolas followed Aragorn, and Gimli followed Legolas, and their watches wore away. But nothing happened. The old man did not appear again, and the horses did not return.

...until the heart betrays​

 ​

Chapter 3
The Uruk-Hai​

Pippin lay in a dark and troubled dream: it seemed that he could hear his own small voice echoing in black tunnels, calling Frodo, Frodo! But instead of Frodo hundreds of hideous orc-faces grinned at him out of the shadows, hundreds of hideous arms grasped at him from every side. Where was Merry?
He woke. Cold air blew on his face. He was lying on his back. Evening was coming and the sky above was growing dim. He turned and found that the dream was little worse than the waking. His wrists, legs, and ankles were tied with cords. Beside him Merry lay, white-faced, with a dirty rag bound across his brows. All about them sat or stood a great company of Orcs.
Slowly in Pippin''s aching head memory pieced itself together and became separated from dream-shadows. Of course: he and Merry had run off into the woods. What had come over them? Why had they dashed off like that, taking no notice of old Strider? They had run a long way shouting--he could not remember how far or how long; and then suddenly they had crashed right into a group of Orcs: they were standing listening, and they did not appear to see Merry and Pippin until they were almost in their arms. Then they yelled and dozens of other goblins had sprung out of the trees. Merry and he had drawn their swords, but the Orcs did not wish to fight, and had tried only to lay hold of them, even when Merry had cut off several of their arms and hands. Good old Merry!
Then Boromir had come leaping through the trees. He had made them fight. He slew many of them and the rest fled. But they had not gone far on the way back when they were attacked again. by a hundred Orcs at least, some of them very large, and they shot a rain of arrows: always at Boromir. Boromir had blown his great horn till the woods rang, and at first the Orcs had been dismayed and had drawn back; but when no answer but the echoes came, they had attacked more fierce than ever. Pippin did not remember much more. His last memo was of Boromir leaning against a tree, plucking out an arrow; then darkness fell suddenly.
''I suppose I was knocked on the head,'' he said to himself. ''I wonder if poor Merry is much hurt. What has happened to Boromir? Why didn''t the Orcs kill us? Where are we, and where are we going?''
He could not answer the questions. He felt cold and sick. ''I wish Gandalf had never persuaded Elrond to let us come,'' he thought. ''What good have I been? Just a nuisance: a passenger, a piece of luggage. And now I have been stolen and I am just a piece of luggage for the Orcs. I hope Strider or someone will come and claim us! But ought I to hope for it? Won''t that throw out all the plans? I wish I could get free!''
He struggled a little, quite uselessly. One of the Orcs sitting near laughed and said something to a companion in their abominable tongue. ''Rest while you can, little fool!'' he said then to Pippin, in the Common Speech, which he made almost as hideous as his own language. ''Rest while you can! We''ll find a use for your legs before long. You''ll wish you had got none before we get home.''
''If I had my way, you''d wish you were dead now,'' said the other. ''I''d make you squeak, you miserable rat.'' He stooped over Pippin bringing his yellow fangs close to his face. He had a black knife with a long jagged blade in his hand. ''Lie quiet, or I''ll tickle you with this,'' he hissed. ''Don''t draw attention to yourself, or I may forget my orders. Curse the Isengarders! UglSk u bagronk sha pushdug Saruman-glob bSbhosh skai'': he passed into a long angry speech in his own tongue that slowly died away into muttering and snarling.
Terrified Pippin lay still, though the pain at his wrists and ankles was growing, and the stones beneath him were boring into his back. To take his mind off himself he listened intently to all that he could hear. There were many voices round about, and though orc-speech sounded at all times full of hate and anger, it seemed plain that something like a quarrel had begun, and was getting hotter.
To Pippin''s surprise he found that much of the talk was intelligible many of the Orcs were using ordinary language. Apparently the members of two or three quite different tribes were present, and they could not understand one another''s orc-speech. There was an angry debate concerning what they were to do now: which way they were to take and what should be done with the prisoners.
''There''s no time to kill them properly,'' said one. ''No time for play on this trip.''
''That can''t be helped,'' said another. ''But why not kill them quick, kill them now? They''re a cursed nuisance, and we''re in a hurry. Evening''s coming on, and we ought to get a move on.''
''Orders.'' said a third voice in a deep growl. ''Kill all but NOT the Halfings; they are to be brought back ALIVE as quickly as possible. That''s my orders.''
''What are they wanted for?'' asked several voices. ''Why alive? Do they give good sport?''
''No! I heard that one of them has got something, something that''s wanted for the War, some elvish plot or other. Anyway they''ll both be questioned.''
''Is that all you know? Why don''t we search them and find out? We might find something that we could use ourselves.''
''That is a very interesting remark,'' sneered a voice, softer than the others but more evil. ''I may have to report that. The prisoners are NOT to be searched or plundered: those are my orders.''
''And mine too,'' said the deep voice. ''Alive and as captured; no spoiling. That''s my orders.''
''Not our orders!'' said one of the earlier voices. ''We have come all the way from the Mines to kill, and avenge our folk. I wish to kill, and then go back north.''
''Then you can wish again,'' said the growling voice. ''I am Uglúk. I command. I return to Isengard by the shortest road.''
''Is Saruman the master or the Great Eye?'' said the evil voice. ''We should go back at once to Lugbúrz.''
''If we could cross the Great River, we might,'' said another voice. ''But there are not enough of us to venture down to the bridges.''
''I came across,'' said the evil voice. ''A winged Nazgûl awaits us northward on the east-bank.''
''Maybe, maybe! Then you''ll fly off with our prisoners, and get all the pay and praise in Lugbúrz, and leave us to foot it as best we can through the Horse-country. No, we must stick together. These lands are dangerous: full of foul rebels and brigands.''
''Aye, we must stick together,'' growled Uglúk. ''I don''t trust you little swine. You''ve no guts outside your own sties. But for us you''d all have run away. We are the fighting Uruk-hai! We slew the great warrior. We took the prisoners. We are the servants of Saruman the Wise, the White Hand: the Hand that gives us man''s-flesh to eat. We came out of Isengard, and led you here, and we shall lead you back by the way we choose. I am Uglúk. I have spoken.''
''You have spoken more than enough, Uglúk,'' sneered the evil voice. ''I wonder how they would like it in Lugbúrz. They might think that Uglúk''s shoulders needed relieving of a swollen head. They might ask where his strange ideas came from. Did they come from Saruman, perhaps? Who does he think he is, setting up on his own with his filthy white badges? They might agree with me, with Grishnákh their trusted messenger; and I Grishnákh say this: Saruman is a fool. and a dirty treacherous fool. But the Great Eye is on him.
''Swine is it? How do you folk like being called swine by the muck-rakers of a dirty little wizard? It''s orc-flesh they eat, I''ll warrant.''
Many loud yells in orc-speech answered him, and the ringing clash of weapons being drawn. Cautiously Pippin rolled over, hoping to see what would happen. His guards had gone to join in the fray. In the twilight he saw a large black Orc, probably Uglúk, standing facing Grishnákh, a short crook-legged creature, very broad and with long arms that hung almost to the ground. Round them were many smaller goblins. Pippin supposed that these were the ones from the North. They had drawn their knives and swords, but hesitated to attack Uglúk.
Uglúk shouted, and a number of other Orcs of nearly his own size ran up. Then suddenly, without warning, Uglúk sprang forwards, and with two swift strokes swept the heads off two of his opponents. Grishnákh stepped aside and vanished into the shadows. The others gave way, and one stepped backwards and fell over Merry''s prostrate form with a curse. Yet that probably saved his life, for Uglúk''s followers leaped over him and cut down another with their broad-bladed swords. It was the yellow-fanged guard. His body fell right on top of Pippin, still clutching its long saw-edged knife.
''Put up your weapons!'' shouted Uglúk. ''And let''s have no more nonsense! We go straight west from here, and down the stair. From there straight to the downs, then along the river to the forest. And we march day and night. That clear?''
''Now,'' thought Pippin, ''if only it takes that ugly fellow a little while to get his troop under control, I''ve got a chance.'' A gleam of hope had come to him. The edge of the black knife had snicked his arm, and then slid down to his wrist. He felt the blood trickling on to his hand, but he also felt the cold touch of steel against his skin.
The Orcs were getting ready to march again, but some of the Northerners were still unwilling, and the Isengarders slew two more before the rest were cowed. There was much cursing and confusion. For the moment Pippin was unwatched. His legs were securely bound, but his arms were only tied about the wrists, and his hands were in front of him. He could move them both together, though the bonds were cruelly tight. He pushed the dead Orc to one side, then hardly daring to breathe, he drew the knot of the wrist-cord up and down against the blade of the knife. It was sharp and the dead hand held it fast. The cord was cut! Quickly Pippin took it in his fingers and knotted it again into a loose bracelet of two loops and slipped it over his hands. Then he lay very still.
''Pick up those prisoners!'' shouted Uglúk. ''Don''t play any tricks with them! If they are not alive when we get back, someone else will die too.''
An Orc seized Pippin like a sack. put its head between his tied hands, grabbed his arms and dragged them down, until Pippin''s face was crushed against its neck; then it jolted off with him. Another treated Merry in the same way. The Orc''s clawlike hand gripped Pippin''s arms like iron; the nails bit into him. He shut his eyes and slipped back into evil dreams.
Suddenly he was thrown on to the stony floor again. It was early night, but the slim moon was already falling westward. They were on the edge of a cliff that seemed to look out over a sea of pale mist. There was a sound of water falling nearby.
''The scouts have come back at last,'' said an Orc close at hand.
''Well, what did you discover?'' growled the voice of Uglúk.
''Only a single horseman, and he made off westwards. All''s clear now.''
''Now, I daresay. But how long? You fools! You should have shot him. He''ll raise the alarm. The cursed horsebreeders will hear of us by morning. Now we''ll have to leg it double quick.''
A shadow bent over Pippin. It was Uglúk. ''Sit up!'' said the Orc. ''My lads are tired of lugging you about. We have got to climb down and you must use your legs. Be helpful now. No crying out, no trying to escape. We have ways of paying for tricks that you won''t like, though they won''t spoil your usefulness for the Master.''
He cut the thongs round Pippin''s legs and ankles, picked him up by his hair and stood him on his feet. Pippin fell down, and Uglúk dragged him up by his hair again. Several Orcs laughed. Uglúk thrust a flask between his teeth and poured some burning liquid down his throat: he felt a hot fierce glow flow through him. The pain in his legs and ankles vanished. He could stand.
''Now for the other!'' said Uglúk. Pippin saw him go to Merry, who was lying close by, and kick him. Merry groaned. Seizing him roughly Uglúk pulled him into a sitting position, and tore the bandage off his head. Then he smeared the wound with some dark stuff out of a small wooden box. Merry cried out and struggled wildly.
The Orcs clapped and hooted. ''Can''t take his medicine,'' they jeered. ''Doesn''t know what''s good for him. Ai! We shall have some fun later.''
But at the moment Uglúk was not engaged in sport. He needed speed and had to humour unwilling followers. He was healing Merry in orc-fashion; and his treatment worked swiftly. When he had forced a drink from his flask down the hobbit''s throat, cut his leg-bonds, and dragged him to his feet, Merry stood up, looking pale but grim and defiant, and very much alive. The gash in his forehead gave him no more trouble, but he bore a brown scar to the end of his days.

...until the heart betrays​

 ​

''Hullo, Pippin!'' he said. ''So you''ve come on this little expe***ion, too? Where do we get bed and breakfast?''
''Now then!'' said Uglúk. ''None of that! Hold your tongues. No talk to one another. Any trouble will be reported at the other end, and He''ll know how to pay you. You''ll get bed and breakfast all right: more than you can stomach.''
The orc-band began to descend a narrow ravine leading down into the misty plain below. Merry and Pippin, separated by a dozen Orcs or more, climbed down with them. At the bottom they stepped on to grass, and the hearts of the hobbits rose.
''Now straight on!'' shouted Uglúk. ''West and a little north. Follow Lugdush.''
''But what are we going to do at sunrise?'' said some of the Northerners.
''Go on running,'' said Uglúk. ''What do you think? Sit on the grass and wait for the Whiteskins to join the picnic?''
''But we can''t run in the sunlight.''
''You''ll run with me behind you,'' said Uglúk. ''Run! Or you''ll never see your beloved holes again. By the White Hand! What''s the use of sending out mountain-maggots on a trip, only half trained. Run, curse you! Run while night lasts!''
Then the whole company began to run with the long loping strides of Orcs. They kept no order, thrusting, jostling, and cursing; yet their speed was very great. Each hobbit had a guard of three. Pippin was far back in the line. He wondered how long he would be able to go on at this pace: he had had no food since the morning. One of his guards had a whip. But at present the orc-liquor was still hot in him. His wits, too, were wide-awake.
Every now and again there came into his mind unbidden a vision of the keen face of Strider bending over a dark trail, and running, running behind. But what could even a Ranger see except a confused trail of orc-feet? His own little prints and Merry''s were overwhelmed by the trampling of the iron-shod shoes before them and behind them and about them.
They had gone only a mile or so from the cliff when the land sloped down into a wide shallow depression, where the ground was soft and wet. Mist lay there, pale-glimmering in the last rays of the sickle moon. The dark shapes of the Orcs in front grew dim, and then were swallowed up.
''Ai! Steady now!'' shouted Uglúk from the rear.
A sudden thought leaped into Pippin''s mind, and he acted on it at once. He swerved aside to the right, and dived out of the reach of his clutching guard, headfirst into the mist; he landed sprawling on the grass.
''Halt!'' yelled Uglúk.
There was for a moment turmoil and confusion. Pippin sprang up and ran. But the Orcs were after him. Some suddenly loomed up right in front of him.
''No hope of escape!'' thought Pippin. ''But there is a hope that I have left some of my own marks unspoilt on the wet ground.'' He groped with his two tied hands at his throat, and unclasped the brooch of his cloak. Just as long arms and hard claws seized him. he let it fall. ''There I suppose it will lie until the end of time,'' he thought. ''I don''t know why I did it. If the others have escaped, they''ve probably all gone with Frodo.''
A whip-thong curled round his legs, and he stifled a cry.
''Enough!'' shouted Uglúk running up. ''He''s still got to run a long way yet. Make ''em both run! Just use the whip as a reminder.''
''But that''s not all,'' he snarled, turning to Pippin. ''I shan''t forget. Payment is only put off. Leg it!''
Neither Pippin nor Merry remembered much of the later part of the journey. Evil dreams and evil waking were blended into a long tunnel of misery, with hope growing ever fainter behind. They ran, and they ran, striving to keep up the pace set by the Orcs, licked every now and again with a cruel thong cunningly handled. If they halted or stumbled, they were seized and dragged for some distance.
The warmth of the orc-draught had gone. Pippin felt cold and sick again. Suddenly he fell face downward on the turf. Hard hands with rending nails gripped and lifted him. He was carried like a sack once more, and darkness grew about him: whether the darkness of another night, or a blindness of his eyes, he could not tell.
Dimly he became aware of voices clamouring: it seemed that many of the Orcs were demanding a halt. Uglúk was shouting. He felt himself flung to the ground, and he lay as he fell, till black dreams took him. But he did not long escape from pain; soon the iron grip of merciless hands was on him again. For a long time he was tossed and shaken, and then slowly the darkness gave way, and he came back to the waking world and found that it was morning. Orders were shouted and he was thrown roughly on the grass.
There he lay for a while, fighting with despair. His head swam, but from the heat in his body he guessed that he had been given another draught. An Orc stooped over him, and flung him some bread and a strip of raw dried flesh. He ate the stale grey bread hungrily, but not the meat. He was famished but not yet so famished as to eat flesh flung to him by an Orc, the flesh of he dared not guess what creature.
He sat up and looked about. Merry was not far away. They were by the banks of a swift narrow river. Ahead mountains loomed: a tall peak was catching the first rays of the sun. A dark smudge of forest lay on the lower slopes before them.
There was much shouting and debating among the Orcs; a quarrel seemed on the point of breaking out again between the Northerners and the Isengarders. Some were pointing back away south, and some were pointing eastward.
''Very well,'' said Uglúk. ''Leave them to me then! No killing, as I''ve told you before; but if you want to throw away what we''ve come all the way to get, throw it away! I''ll look after it. Let the fighting Uruk-hai do the work, as usual. If you''re afraid of the Whiteskins, run! Run! There''s the forest,'' he shouted, pointing ahead. ''Get to it! It''s your best hope. Off you go! And quick, before I knock a few more heads off, to put some sense into the others.''
There was some cursing and scuffling, and then most of the Northerners broke away and dashed off, over a hundred of them, running wildly along the river towards the mountains. The hobbits were left with the Isengarders: a grim dark band, four score at least of large, swart, slant-eyed Orcs with great bows and short broad-bladed swords. A few of the larger and bolder Northerners remained with them.
''Now we''ll deal with Grishnákh,'' said Uglúk; but some even of his own followers were looking uneasily southwards.
''I know,'' growled Uglúk. ''The cursed horse-boys have got wind of us. But that''s all your fault, Snaga. You and the other scouts ought to have your ears cut off. But we are the fighters. We''ll feast on horseflesh yet, or something better.''
At that moment Pippin saw why some of the troop had been pointing eastward. From that direction there now came hoarse cries, and there was Grishnákh again, and at his back a couple of score of others like him: long-armed crook-legged Orcs. They had a red eye painted on their shields. Uglúk stepped forward to meet them. ''So you''ve come back?'' he said. ''Thought better of it, eh?''
''I''ve returned to see that Orders are carried out and the prisoners safe,'' answered Grishnákh.
''Indeed!'' said Uglúk. ''Waste of effort. I''ll see that orders are carried out in my command. And what else did you come back for? You went in a hurry. Did you leave anything behind?''
''I left a fool,'' snarled Grishnákh. ''But there were some stout fellows with him that are too good to lose. I knew you''d lead them into a mess. I''ve come to help them.''
''Splendid!'' laughed Uglúk. ''But unless you''ve got some guts for fighting, you''ve taken the wrong way. Lugbúrz was your road. The Whiteskins are coming. What''s happened to your precious Nazgûl? Has he had another mount shot under him? Now, if you''d brought him along, that might have been useful-if these Nazgûl are all they make out.''
''Nazgûl, Nazgûl,'' said Grishnákh, shivering and licking his lips, as if the word had a foul taste that he savoured painfully. ''You speak of what is deep beyond the reach of your muddy dreams, Uglúk,'' he said. ''Nazgûl! Ah! All that they make out! One day you''ll wish that you had not said that. Ape!'' he snarled fiercely. ''You ought to know that they''re the apple of the Great Eye. But the winged Nazgûl: not yet, not yet. He won''t let them show themselves across the Great River yet, not too soon. They''re for the War-and other purposes.''
''You seem to know a lot,'' said Uglúk. ''More than is good for you, I guess. Perhaps those in Lugbúrz might wonder how, and why. But in the meantime the Uruk-hai of Isengard can do the dirty work, as usual. Don''t stand slavering there! Get your rabble together! The other swine are legging it to the forest. You''d better follow. You wouldn''t get back to the Great River alive. Right off the mark! Now! I''ll be on your heels.''
The Isengarders seized Merry and Pippin again and slung them on their backs. Then the troop started off. Hour after hour they ran, pausing now and again only to sling the hobbits to fresh carriers. Either because they were quicker and hardier, or because of some plan of Grishnákh''s, the Isengarders gradually passed through the Orcs of Mordor, and Grishnákh''s folk closed in behind. Soon they were gaining also on the Northerners ahead. The forest began to draw nearer.
Pippin was bruised and torn, his aching head was grated by the filthy jowl and hairy ear of the Orc that held him. Immediately in front were bowed backs, and tough thick legs going up and down, up and down, unresting, as if they were made of wire and horn, beating out the nightmare seconds of an endless time.
In the afternoon Uglúk''s troop overtook the Northerners. They were flagging in the rays of the bright sun, winter sun shining in a pale cool sky though it was; their heads were down and their tongues lolling out.
''Maggots!'' jeered the Isengarders. ''You''re cooked. The Whiteskins will catch you and eat you. They''re coming!''
A cry from Grishnákh showed that this was not mere jest. Horsemen, riding very swiftly, had indeed been sighted: still far behind, but gaining on the Orcs, gaining on them like a tide over the flats on folk straying in a quicksand.
The Isengarders began to run with a redoubled pace that astonished Pippin, a terrific spurt it seemed for the end of a race. Then he saw that the sun was sinking, falling behind the Misty Mountains; shadows reached over the land. The soldiers of Mordor lifted their heads and also began to put on speed. The forest was dark and close. Already they had passed a few outlying trees. The land was beginning to slope upwards. ever more steeply; but the Orcs did not halt. Both Uglúk and Grishnákh shouted, spurring them on to a last effort.
''They will make it yet. They will escape,'' thought Pippin. And then he managed to twist his neck. so as to glance back with one eye over his shoulder. He saw that riders away eastward were already level with the Orcs, galloping over the plain. The sunset gilded their spears and helmets, and glinted in their pale flowing hair. They were hemming the Orcs in, preventing them from scattering, and driving them along the line of the river.
He wondered very much what kind of folk they were. He wished now that he had learned more in Rivendell, and looked more at maps and things; but in those days the plans for the journey seemed to be in more competent hands, and he had never reckoned with being cut off from Gandalf, or from Strider, and even from Frodo. All that he could remember about Rohan was that Gandalf''s horse, Shadowfax, had come from that land. That sounded hopeful, as far as it went.
''But how will they know that we are not Orcs?'' he thought. ''I don''t suppose they''ve ever heard of hobbits down here. I suppose I ought to be glad that the beastly Orcs look like being destroyed, but I would rather be saved myself.'' The chances were that he and Merry would be killed together with their captors, before ever the Men of Rohan were aware of them.
A few of the riders appeared to be bowmen, skilled at shooting from a running horse. Riding swiftly into range they shot arrows at the Orcs that straggled behind, and several of them fell; then the riders wheeled away out of the range of the answering bows of their enemies, who shot wildly, not daring to halt. This happened many times, and on one occasion arrows fell among the Isengarders. One of them, just in front of Pippin, stumbled and did not get up again.
Night came down without the Riders closing in for battle. Many Orcs had fallen, but fully two hundred remained. In the early darkness the Orcs came to a hillock. The eaves of the forest were very near, probably no more than three furlongs away, but they could go no further. The horsemen had encircled them. A small band disobeyed Uglúk''s command, and ran on towards the forest: only three returned.
''Well, here we are,'' sneered Grishnákh. ''Fine leadership! I hope the great Uglúk will lead us out again.''
''Put those Halflings down!'' ordered Uglúk, taking no notice of Grishnákh. ''You, Lugdush, get two others and stand guard over them! They''re not to be killed, unless the filthy Whiteskins break through. Understand? As long as I''m alive, I want ''em. But they''re not to cry out, and they''re not to be rescued. Bind their legs!''
The last part of the order was carried out mercilessly. But Pippin found that for the first time he was close to Merry. The Orcs were making a great deal of noise, shouting and clashing their weapons, and the hobbits managed to whisper together for a while.
''I don''t think much of this,'' said Merry. ''I feel nearly done in. Don''t think I could crawl away far, even if I was free.''
''Lembas!'' whispered Pippin. ''Lembas: I''ve got some. Have you? I don''t think they''ve taken anything but our swords.''
''Yes, I had a packet in my pocket,'' answered Merry, ''but it must be battered to crumbs. Anyway I can''t put my mouth in my pocket!''
''You won''t have to. I''ve?"''; but just then a savage kick warned Pippin that the noise had died down, and the guards were watchful.

...until the heart betrays​

 ​

The night was cold and still. All round the knoll on which the Orcs were gathered little watch-fires sprang up, golden-red in the darkness, a complete ring of them. They were within a long bowshot. but the riders did not show themselves against the light, and the Orcs wasted many arrows shooting at the fires, until Uglúk stopped them. The riders made no sound. Later in the night when the moon came out of the mist, then occasionally they could be seen, shadowy shapes that glinted now and again in the white light, as they moved in ceaseless patrol.
''They''ll wait for the Sun, curse them!'' growled one of the guards. ''Why don''t we get together and charge through? What''s old Uglúk think he''s doing, I should like to know?''
''I daresay you would,'' snarled Uglúk stepping up from behind. ''Meaning I don''t think at all, eh? Curse you! You''re as bad as the other rabble: the maggots and the apes of Lugbúrz. No good trying to charge with them. They''d just squeal and bolt, and there are more than enough of these filthy horse-boys to mop up our lot on the flat.
''There''s only one thing those maggots can do: they can see like gimlets in the dark. But these Whiteskins have better night-eyes than most Men, from all I''ve heard; and don''t forget their horses! They can see the night-breeze, or so it''s said. Still there''s one thing the fine fellows don''t know: Mauhúr and his lads are in the forest, and they should turn up any time now.''
Uglúk''s words were enough, apparently, to satisfy the Isengarders; but the other Orcs were both dispirited and rebellious. They posted a few watchers, but most of them lay on the ground, resting in the pleasant darkness. It did indeed become very dark again; for the moon passed westward into thick cloud, and Pippin could not see anything a few feet away. The fires brought no light to the hillock. The riders were not, however, content merely to wait for the dawn and let their enemies rest. A sudden outcry on the east side of the knoll showed that something was wrong. It seemed that some of the Men had ridden in close, slipped off their horses, crawled to the edge of the camp and killed several Orcs, and then had faded away again. Uglúk dashed off to stop a stampede.
Pippin and Merry sat up. Their guards, Isengarders, had gone with Uglúk. But if the hobbits had any thought of escape, it was soon dashed. A long hairy arm took each of them by the neck and drew them close together. Dimly they were aware of Grishnákh''s great head and hideous face between them; his foul breath was on their cheeks. He began to paw them and feel them. Pippin shuddered as hard cold fingers groped down his back.
''Well, my little ones!'' said Grishnákh in a soft whisper. ''Enjoying your nice rest? Or not? A little awkwardly placed, perhaps: swords and whips on one side, and nasty spears on the other! Little people should not meddle _in affairs that are too big for them.'' His fingers continued to grope. There was a light like a pale but hot fire behind his eyes.
The thought came suddenly into Pippin''s mind, as if caught direct from the urgent thought of his enemy: ''Grishnákh knows about the Ring! He''s looking for it, while Uglúk is busy: he probably wants it for himself.'' Cold fear was in Pippin''s heart, yet at the same time he was wondering what use he could make of Grishnákh''s desire.
''I don''t think you will find it that way,'' he whispered. ''It isn''t easy to find.''
''Find it?'' said Grishnákh: his fingers stopped crawling and gripped Pippin''s shoulder. ''Find what? What are you talking about, little one?''. For a moment Pippin was silent. Then suddenly in the darkness he made a noise in his throat: gollum, gollum. ''Nothing, my precious,'' he added.
The hobbits felt Grishnákh''s fingers twitch. ''O ho!'' hissed the goblin softly. ''That''s what he means, is it? O ho! Very ve-ry dangerous, my little ones.''
''Perhaps,'' said Merry, now alert and aware of Pippin''s guess. ''Perhaps; and not only for us. Still you know your own business best. Do you want it, or not? And what would you give for it?''
''Do I want it? Do I want it?'' said Grishnákh, as if puzzled; but his arms were trembling. ''What would I give for it? What do you mean?''
''We mean,'' said Pippin, choosing his words carefully, ''that it''s no good groping in the dark. We could save you time and trouble. But you must untie our legs first, or we''ll do nothing, and say nothing.''
''My dear tender little fools,'' hissed Grishnákh, ''everything you have, and everything you know, will be got out of you in due time: everything! You''ll wish there was more that you could tell to satisfy the Questioner, indeed you will: quite soon. We shan''t hurry the enquiry. Oh dear no! What do you think you''ve been kept alive for? My dear little fellows, please believe me when I say that it was not out of kindness: that''s not even one of Uglúk''s faults.''
''I find it quite easy to believe,'' said Merry. ''But you haven''t got your prey home yet. And it doesn''t seem to be going your way, whatever happens. If we come to Isengard, it won''t be the great Grishnákh that benefits: Saruman will take all that he can find. If you want anything for yourself, now''s the time to do a deal.''
Grishnákh began to lose his temper. The name of Saruman seemed specially to enrage him. Time was passing and the disturbance was dying down. Uglúk or the Isengarders might return at any minute.
''Have you got it ?" either of you?'' he snarled.
''Gollum, gollum!'' said Pippin.
''Untie our legs!'' said Merry.
They felt the Orc''s arms trembling violently. ''Curse you, you filthy little vermin!'' he hissed. ''Untie your legs? I''ll untie every string in your bodies. Do you think I can''t search you to the bones? Search you! I''ll cut you both to quivering shreds. I don''t need the help of your legs to get you away-and have you all to myself!''
Suddenly he seized them. The strength in his long arms and shoulders was terrifying. He tucked them one under each armpit, and crushed them fiercely to his sides; a great stifling hand was clapped over each of their mouths. Then he sprang forward, stooping low. Quickly and silently he went, until he came to the edge of the knoll. There, choosing a gap between the watchers, he passed like an evil shadow out into the night, down the slope and away westward towards the river that flowed out of the forest. In that direction there was a wide open space with only one fire.
After going a dozen yards he halted, peering and listening. Nothing could be seen or heard. He crept slowly on, bent almost double. Then he squatted and listened again. Then he stood up, as if to risk a sudden dash. At that very moment the dark form of a rider loomed up right in front of him. A horse snorted and reared. A man called out.
Grishnákh flung himself on the ground flat, dragging the hobbits under him; then he drew his sword. No doubt he meant to kill his captives, rather than allow them to escape or to be rescued; but it was his undoing. The sword rang faintly, and glinted a little in the light of the fire away to his left. An arrow came whistling out of the gloom: it was aimed with skill, or guided by fate, and it pierced his right hand. He dropped the sword and shrieked. There was a quick beat of hoofs, and even as Grishnákh leaped up and ran, he was ridden down and a spear passed through him. He gave a hideous shivering cry and lay still.
The hobbits remained flat on the ground, as Grishnákh had left them. Another horseman came riding swiftly to his comrade''s aid. Whether because of some special keenness of sight, or because of some other sense, the horse lifted and sprang lightly over them; but its rider did not see them, lying covered in their elven-cloaks, too crushed for the moment, and too afraid to move.
At last Merry stirred and whispered softly: ''So far so good: but how are we to avoid being spitted?''
The answer came almost immediately. The cries of Grishnákh had roused the Orcs. From the yells and screeches that came from the knoll the hobbits guessed that their disappearance had been discovered: Uglúk was probably knocking off a few more heads. Then suddenly the answering cries of orc-voices came from the right, outside the circle of watch-fires, from the direction of the forest and the mountains. Mauhúr had apparently arrived and was attacking the besiegers. There was the sound of galloping horses. The Riders were drawing in their ring close round the knoll, risking the orc-arrows, so as to prevent any sortie, while a company rode off to deal with the newcomers. Suddenly Merry and Pippin realized that without moving they were now outside the circle: there was nothing between them and escape.
''Now,'' said Merry, ''if only we had our legs and hands free, we might get away. But I can''t touch the knots, and I can''t bite them.''
''No need to try,'' said Pippin. ''I was going to tell you: I''ve managed to free my hands. These loops are only left for show. You''d better have a bit of lembas first.''
He slipped the cords off his wrists, and fished out a packet. The cakes were broken, but good, still in their leaf-wrappings. The hobbits each ate two or three pieces. The taste brought back to them the memory of fair faces, and laughter, and wholesome food in quiet days now far away. For a while they ate thoughtfully, sitting in the dark, heedless of the cries and sounds of battle nearby. Pippin was the first to come back to the present.
''We must be off,'' he said. ''Half a moment!'' Grishnákh''s sword was lying close at hand, but it was too heavy and clumsy for him to use; so he crawled forward, and finding the body of the goblin he drew from its sheath a long sharp knife. With this he quickly cut their bonds.
''Now for it!'' he said. ''When we''ve warmed up a bit, perhaps we shall be able to stand again, and walk. But in any case we had better start by crawling.''
They crawled. The turf was deep and yielding, and that helped them: but it seemed a long slow business. They gave the watch-fire a wide berth, and wormed their way forward bit by bit, until they came to the edge of the river, gurgling away in the black shadows under its deep banks. Then they looked back.
The sounds had died away. Evidently Mauhúr and his ''lads'' had been killed or driven off. The Riders had returned to their silent ominous vigil. It would not last very much longer. Already the night was old. In the East, which had remained unclouded, the sky was beginning to grow pale.
''We must get under cover,'' said Pippin, ''or we shall be seen. It will not be any comfort to us, if these riders discover that we are not Orcs after we are dead.'' He got up and stamped his feet. ''Those cords have cut me like wires; but my feet are getting warm again. I could stagger on now. What about you, Merry?''
Merry got up. ''Yes,'' he said, ''I can manage it. Lembas does put heart into you! A more wholesome sort of feeling, too, than the heat of that orc-draught. I wonder what it was made of. Better not to know, I expect. Let''s get a drink of water to wash away the thought of it!''
''Not here, the banks are too steep,'' said Pippin. ''Forward now!''
They turned and walked side by side slowly along the line of the river. Behind them the light grew in the East. As they walked they compared notes, talking lightly in hobbit-fashion of the things that had happened since their capture. No listener would have guessed from their words that they had suffered cruelly, and been in dire peril, going without hope towards torment and death; or that even now, as they knew well, they had little chance of ever finding friend or safety again.
''You seem to have been doing well, Master Took,'' said Merry. ''You will get almost a chapter in old Bilbo''s book, if ever I get a chance to report to him. Good work: especially guessing that hairy villain''s little game, and playing up to him. But I wonder if anyone will ever pick up your trail and find that brooch. I should hate to lose mine, but I am afraid yours is gone for good.
''I shall have to brush up my toes, if I am to get level with you. Indeed Cousin Brandybuck is going in front now. This is where he comes in. I don''t suppose you have much notion where we are; but I spent my time at Rivendell rather better. We are walking west along the Entwash. The butt-end of the Misty Mountains is in front, and Fangorn Forest.''
Even as he spoke the dark edge of the forest loomed up straight before them. Night seemed to have taken refuge under its great trees, creeping away from the coming Dawn.
''Lead on, Master Brandybuck!'' said Pippin. ''Or lead back! We have been warned against Fangorn. But one so knowing will not have forgotten that.''
''I have not,'' answered Merry; ''but the forest seems better to me, all the same, than turning back into the middle of a battle.''
He led the way in under the huge branches of the trees. Old beyond guessing, they seemed. Great trailing beards of lichen hung from them, blowing and swaying in the breeze. Out of the shadows the hobbits peeped, gazing back down the slope: little furtive figures that in the dim light looked like elf-children in the deeps of time peering out of the Wild Wood in wonder at their first Dawn.
Far over the Great River, and the Brown Lands, leagues upon grey leagues away, the Dawn came, red as flame. Loud rang the hunting-horns to greet it. The Riders of Rohan sprang suddenly to life. Horn answered horn again.
Merry and Pippin heard, clear in the cold air, the neighing of war-horses, and the sudden singing of many men. The Sun''s limb was lifted, an arc of fire, above the margin of the world. Then with a great cry the Riders charged from the East; the red light gleamed on mail and spear. The Orcs yelled and shot all the arrows that remained to them. The hobbits saw several horsemen fall; but their line held on up the hill and over it, and wheeled round and charged again. Most of the raiders that were left alive then broke and fled, this way and that, pursued one by one to the death. But one band, holding together in a black wedge, drove forward resolutely in the direction of the forest. Straight up the slope they charged towards the watchers. Now they were drawing near, and it seemed certain that they would escape: they had already hewn down three Riders that barred their way.
''We have watched too long,'' said Merry. ''There''s Uglúk! I don''t want to meet him again.'' The hobbits turned and fled deep into the shadows of the wood.
So it was that they did not sec the last stand, when Uglúk was overtaken and brought to bay at the very edge of Fangorn. There he was slain at last by Éomer, the Third Marshal of the Mark, who dismounted and fought him sword to sword. And over the wide fields the keen-eyed Riders hunted down the few Orcs that had escaped and still had strength to fly.
Then when they had laid their fallen comrades in a mound and had sung their praises, the Riders made a great fire and scattered the ashes of their enemies. So ended the raid, and no news of it came ever back either to Mordor or to Isengard; but the smoke of the burning rose high to heaven and was seen by many watchful eyes.

...until the heart betrays​

 ​

Chapter 4
Treebeard​

Meanwhile the hobbits went with as much speed as the dark and tangled forest allowed, following the line of the running stream, westward and up towards the slopes of the mountains, deeper and deeper into Fangorn. Slowly their fear of the Orcs died away, and their pace slackened. A queer stifling feeling came over them, as if the air were too thin or too scanty for breathing.
At last Merry halted. ''We can''t go on like this,'' he panted. ''I want some air.''
''Let''s have a drink at any rate,'' said Pippin. ''I''m parched.'' He clambered on to a great tree-root that wound down into the stream, and stooping drew up some water in his cupped hands. It was clear and cold, and he took many draughts. Merry followed him. The water refreshed them and seemed to cheer their hearts; for a while they sat together on the brink of the stream, dabbling their sore feet and legs, and peering round at the trees that stood silently about them, rank upon rank, until they faded away into grey twilight in every direction.
''I suppose you haven''t lost us already?'' said Pippin, leaning back against a great tree-trunk. ''We can at least follow the course of this stream, the Entwash or whatever you call it, and get out again the way we came.''
''We could, if our legs would do it,'' said Merry; ''and if we could breathe properly.''
''Yes, it is all very dim, and stuffy, in here,'' said Pippin. ''It reminds me, somehow, of the old room in the Great Place of the Tooks away back in the Smials at Tuckborough: a huge place, where the furniture has never been moved or changed for generations. They say the Old Took lived in it year after year, while he and the room got older and shabbier together-and it has never changed since he died, a century ago. And Old Gerontius was my great-great-grandfather: that puts it back a bit. But that is nothing to the old feeling of this wood. Look at all those weeping, trailing, beards and whiskers of lichen! And most of the trees seem to be half covered with ragged dry leaves that have never fallen. Untidy. I can''t imagine what spring would look like here, if it ever comes; still less a spring-cleaning.''
''But the Sun at any rate must peep in sometimes.'' said Merry. ''It does not look or feel at all like Bilbo''s description of Mirkwood. That was all dark and black, and the home of dark black things. This is just dim, and frightfully tree-ish. You can''t imagine animals living here at all, or staying for long.''
''No, nor hobbits,'' said Pippin. ''And I don''t like the thought of trying to get through it either. Nothing to eat for a hundred miles, I should guess. How are our supplies?''
''Low,'' said Merry. ''We ran off with nothing but a couple of spare packets of lembas, and left everything else behind.'' They looked at what remained of the elven-cakes: broken fragments for about five meagre days, that was all. ''And not a wrap or a blanket,'' said Merry. ''We shall be cold tonight, whichever way we go.''
''Well, we''d better decide on the way now,'' said Pippin. ''The morning must be getting on.''
Just then they became aware of a yellow light that had appeared, some way further on into the wood: shafts of sunlight seemed suddenly to have pierced the forest-roof.
''Hullo!'' said Merry. ''The Sun must have run into a cloud while we''ve been under these trees, and now she has run out again; or else she has climbed high enough to look down through some opening. It isn''t far õ?" let''s go and investigate!''
They found it was further than they thought. The ground was rising steeply still, and it was becoming increasingly stony. The light grew broader as they went on, and soon they saw that there was a rock-wall before them: the side of a hill, or the abrupt end of some long root thrust out by the distant mountains. No trees grew on it, and the sun was falling full on its stony face. The twigs of the trees at its foot were stretched out stiff and still, as if reaching out to the warmth. Where all had looked so shabby and grey before, the wood now gleamed with rich browns, and with the smooth black-greys of bark like polished leather. The boles of the trees glowed with a soft green like young grass: early spring or a fleeting vision of it was about them.
In the face of the stony wall there was something like a stair: natural perhaps, and made by the weathering and splitting of the rock, for it was rough and uneven. High up, almost level with the tops of forest-trees, there was a shelf under a cliff. Nothing grew there but a few grasses and weeds at its edge, and one old stump of a tree with only two bent branches left: it looked almost like the figure of some gnarled old man, standing there, blinking in the morning-light.
''Up we go!'' said Merry joyfully. ''Now for a breath of air, and a sight of the land!''
They climbed and scrambled up the rock. If the stair had been made it was for bigger feet and longer legs than theirs. They were too eager to be surprised at the remarkable way in which the cuts and sores of their captivity had healed and their vigour had returned. They came at length to the edge of the shelf almost at the feet of the old stump; then they sprang up and turned round with their backs to the hill, breathing deep, and looking out eastward. They saw that they had only come some three or four miles into the forest: the heads of the trees marched down the slopes towards the plain. There, near the fringe of the forest, tall spires of curling black smoke went up, wavering and floating towards them.
''The wind''s changing,'' said Merry. ''It''s turned east again. It feels cool up here.''
''Yes,'' said Pippin; ''I''m afraid this is only a passing gleam, and it will all go grey again. What a pity! This shaggy old forest looked so different in the sunlight. I almost felt I liked the place.''
''Almost felt you liked the Forest! That''s good! That''s uncommonly kind of you,'' said a strange voice. ''Turn round and let me have a look at your faces. I almost feel that I dislike you both, but do not let us be hasty. Turn round!'' A large knob-knuckled hand was laid on each of their shoulders, and they were twisted round, gently but irresistibly; then two great arms lifted them up.
They found that they were looking at a most extraordinary face. It belonged to a large Man-like, almost Troll-like, figure, at least fourteen foot high, very sturdy, with a tall head, and hardly any neck. Whether it was clad in stuff like green and grey bark, or whether that was its hide, was difficult to say. At any rate the arms, at a short distance from the trunk, were not wrinkled, but covered with a brown smooth skin. The large feet had seven toes each. The lower part of the long face was covered with a sweeping grey beard, bushy, almost twiggy at the roots, thin and mossy at the ends. But at the moment the hobbits noted little but the eyes. These deep eyes were now surveying them, slow and solemn, but very penetrating. They were brown, shot with a green light. Often afterwards Pippin tried to describe his first impression of them.
''One felt as if there was an enormous well behind them, filled up with ages of memory and long, slow, steady thinking; but their surface was sparkling with the present: like sun shimmering on the outer leaves of a vast tree, or on the ripples of a very deep lake. I don''t know but it felt as if something that grew in the ground-asleep, you might say, or just feeling itself as something between roof-tip and leaf-tip, between deep earth and sky had suddenly waked up, and was considering you with the same slow care that it had given to its own inside affairs for endless years.''
''Hrum, Hoom,'' murmured the voice, a deep voice like a very deep woodwind instrument. ''Very odd indeed! Do not be hasty, that is my motto. But if I had seen you, before I heard your voices õ?" I liked them: nice little voices; they reminded me of something I cannot remember õ?" if I had seen you before I heard you, I should have just trodden on you, taking you for little Orcs, and found out my mistake afterwards. Very odd you are, indeed. Root and twig, very odd!''
Pippin, though still amazed, no longer felt afraid. Under those eyes he felt a curious suspense, but not fear. ''Please.'' he said, ''who are you? And what are you?''
A queer look came into the old eyes, a kind of wariness; the deep wells were covered over. ''Hrum, now,'' answered the voice; ''well, I am an Ent, or that''s what they call me. Yes, Ent is the word. The Ent, I am, you might say, in your manner of speaking. Fangorn is my name according to some, Treebeard others make it. Treebeard will do.''
''An Ent?'' said Merry. ''What''s that? But what do you call yourself? What''s your real name?''
''Hoo now!'' replied Treebeard. ''Hoo! Now that would be telling! Not so hasty. And I am doing the asking. You are in my country. What are you, I wonder? I cannot place you. You do not seem to come in the old lists that I learned when I was young. But that was a long, long time ago, and they may have made new lists. Let me see! Let me see! How did it go?

Learn now the lore of Living Creatures!
First name the four, the free peoples:
Eldest of all, the elf-children;
Dwarf the delver, dark are his houses;
Ent the earthborn, old as mountains;
Man the mortal, master of horses:​

Hm, hm, hm.

Beaver the builder, buck the leaper,
Bear bee-hunter, boar the fighter;
Hound is hungry, hare is fearfulõ?Ư​

hm, hm.

Eagle in eyrie, ox in pasture,
Hart horn-crowned; hawk is swiftest
Swan the whitest, serpent coldestõ?Ư​

Hoom, hm; hoom. hm. how did it go? Room tum, room tum, roomty toom tum. It was a long list. But anyway you do not seem to fit in anywhere!''

...until the heart betrays​

 ​

''We always seem to have got left out of the old lists, and the old stories,'' said Merry. ''Yet we''ve been about for quite a long time. We''re hobbits.''
''Why not make a new line?'' said Pippin.

''Half-grown hobbits, the hole-dwellers.​

Put us in amongst the four, next to Man (the Big People) and you''ve got it.''
''Hm! Not bad, not bad,'' said Treebeard. ''That would do. So you live in holes, eh? It sounds very right and proper. Who calls you hobbits, though? That does not sound elvish to me. Elves made all the old words: they began it.''
''Nobody else calls us hobbits; we call ourselves that,'' said Pippin.
''Hoom, hmm! Come now! Not so hasty! You call yourselves hobbits? But you should not go telling just anybody. You''ll be letting out your own right names if you''re not careful.''
''We aren''t careful about that,'' said Merry. ''As a matter of fact I''m a Brandybuck, Meriadoc Brandybuck, though most people call me just Merry.''
''And I''m a Took, Peregrin Took, but I''m generally called Pippin, or even Pip.''
''Hm, but you are hasty folk, I see,'' said Treebeard. ''I am honoured by your confidence; but you should not be too free all at once. There are Ents and Ents, you know; or there are Ents and things that look like Ents but ain''t, as you might say. I''ll call you Merry and Pippin if you please ?" nice names. For I am not going to tell you my name, not yet at any rate.'' A queer half-knowing, half-humorous look came with a green flicker into his eyes. ''For one thing it would take a long while: my name is growing all the time, and I''ve lived a very long, long time; so my name is like a story. Real names tell you the story of the things they belong to in my language, in the Old Entish as you might say. It is a lovely language, but it takes a very long time to say anything in it, because we do not say anything in it, unless it is worth taking a long time to say, and to listen to.
''But now,'' and the eyes became very bright and ''present'', seeming to grow smaller and almost sharp, ''what is going on? What are you doing in it all? I can see and hear (and smell and feel) a great deal from this, from this, from this a-lalla-lalla-rumba-kamanda-lind-or-burúmë. Excuse me: that is a part of my name for it; I do not know what the word is in the outside languages: you know, the thing we are on, where I stand and look out on fine mornings, and think about the Sun, and the grass beyond the wood, and the horses, and the clouds, and the unfolding of the world. What is going on? What is Gandalf up to? And these ?" burárum,'' he made a deep rumbling noise like a discord on a great organ ?" ''these Orcs, and young Saruman down at Isengard? I like news. But not too quick now.''
''There is quite a lot going on,'' said Merry: ''and even if we tried to be quick, it would take a long time to tell. But you told us not to be hasty. Ought we to tell you anything so soon? Would you think it rude, if we asked what you are going to do with us, and which side you are on? And did you know Gandalf?''
''Yes, I do know him: the only wizard that really cares about trees '' said Treebeard. ''Do you know him?''
''Yes,'' said Pippin sadly, ''we did. He was a great friend, and he was our guide.''
''Then I can answer your other questions,'' said Treebeard. ''I am not going to do anything with you: not if you mean by that ''do something to you'' without your leave. We might do some things together. I don''t know about sides. I go my own way; but your way may go along with mine for a while. But you speak of Master Gandalf, as if he was in a story that had come to an end.''
''Yes, we do,'' said Pippin sadly. ''The story seems to be going on, but I am afraid Gandalf has fallen out of it.''
''Hoo, come now!'' said Treebeard. ''Hoom, hm, ah well.'' He paused, looking long at the hobbits: ''Hoom, ah, well I do not know what to say. Come now!''
''If you would like to hear more. said Merry, ''we will tell you. But it will take some time. Wouldn''t you like to put us down? Couldn''t we sit here together in the sun, while it lasts? You must be getting tired of holding us up.''
''Hm, tired? No. I am not tired. I do not easily get tired. And I do not sit down. I am not very, hm, bendable. But there, the Sun is going in. Let us leave this ?" did you say what you call it?''
''Hill?'' suggested Pippin. ''Shelf? Step?'' suggested Merry.
Treebeard repeated the words thoughtfully. ''Hill. Yes, that was it. But it is a hasty word for a thing that has stood here ever since this part of the world was shaped. Never mind. Let us leave it, and go.''
''Where shall we go?'' asked Merry.
''To my home, or one of my homes,'' answered Treebeard.
''Is it far?''
''I do not know. You might call it far, perhaps. But what does that matter?''
''Well, you see, we have lost all our belongings,'' said Merry. ''We have only a little food.''
''O! Hm! You need not trouble about that,'' said Treebeard. ''I can give you a drink that will keep you green and growing for a long, long while. And if we decide to part company, I can set you down outside my country at any point you choose. Let us go!''
Holding the hobbits gently but firmly, one in the crook of each arm, Treebeard lifted up first one large foot and then the other, and moved them to the edge of the shelf. The rootlike toes grasped the rocks. Then carefully and solemnly, he stalked down from step to step, and reached the floor of the Forest.
At once he set off with long deliberate strides through the trees, deeper and deeper into the wood, never far from the stream, climbing steadily up towards the slopes of the mountains. Many of the trees seemed asleep, or as unaware of him as of any other creature that merely passed by; but some quivered, and some raised up their branches above his head as he approached. All the while, as he walked, he talked to himself in a long running stream of musical sounds.
The hobbits were silent for some time. They felt, oddly enough, safe and comfortable, and they had a great deal to think and wonder about. At last Pippin ventured to speak again.
''Please, Treebeard,'' he said, ''could I ask you something? Why did Celeborn warn us against your forest? He told us not to risk getting entangled in it.''
''Hmm, did he now?'' rumbled Treebeard. ''And I might have said much the same, if you had been going the other way. Do not risk getting entangled in the woods of Laurelindórenan! That is what the Elves used to call it, but now they make the name shorter: Lothlórien they call it. Perhaps they are right: maybe it is fading; not growing. Land of the Valley of Singing Gold, that was it, once upon a time. Now it is the Dreamflower. Ah well! But it is a queer place, and not for just any one to venture in. I am surprised that you ever got out, but much more surprised that you ever got in: that has not happened to strangers for many a year. It is a queer land.
''And so is this. Folk have come to grief here. Aye, they have, to grief. Laurelindórenan lindelorendor malinornélion ornemalin,'' he hummed to himself. ''They are falling rather behind the world in there, I guess,'' he said ''Neither this country, nor anything else outside the Golden Wood, is what it was when Celeborn was young. Still:
Taurelilfmлa-tumbalemorna Tumbaletaurлa Lfmлanor,1
that is what they used to say. Things have changed, but it is still true in places.''
''What do you mean?'' said Pippin. ''What is true?''
''The trees and the Ents,'' said Treebeard. ''I do not understand all that goes on myself, so I cannot explain it to you. Some of us are still true Ents, and lively enough in our fashion, but many are growing sleepy, going tree-ish, as you might say. Most of the trees are just trees, of course; but many are half awake. Some are quite wide awake, and a few are, well, ah, well getting Entish. That is going on all the time.
''When that happens to a tree, you find that some have bad hearts. Nothing to do with their wood: I do not mean that. Why, I knew some good old willows down the Entwash, gone long ago, alas! They were quite hollow, indeed they were falling all to pieces, but as quiet and sweet-spoken as a young leaf. And then there are some trees in the valleys under the mountains, sound as a bell, and bad right through. That sort of thing seems to spread. There used to be some very dangerous parts in this country. There are still some very black patches.''
''Like the Old Forest away to the north, do you mean?'' asked Merry.
''Aye, aye. something like, but much worse. I do not doubt there is some shadow of the Great Darkness lying there still away north; and bad memories are handed down. But there are hollow dales in this land where the Darkness has never been lifted, and the trees are older than I am. Still, we do what we can. We keep off strangers and the foolhardy; and we train and we teach, we walk and we weed.
''We are tree-herds, we old Ents. Few enough of us are left now. Sheep get like shepherd, and shepherds like sheep, it is said; but slowly, and neither have long in the world. It is quicker and closer with trees and Ents, and they walk down the ages together. For Ents are more like Elves: less interested in themselves than Men are, and better at getting inside other things. And yet again Ents are more like Men, more changeable than Elves are, and quicker at taking the colour of the outside, you might say. Or better than both: for they are steadier and keep their minds on things longer. ''Some of my kin look just like trees now, and need something great to rouse them; and they speak only in whispers. But some of my trees are limb-lithe, and many can talk to me. Elves began it, of course, waking trees up and teaching them to speak and learning their tree-talk. They always wished to talk to everything, the old Elves did. But then the Great Darkness came, and they passed away over the Sea, or fled into far valleys, and hid themselves, and made songs about days that would never come again. Never again. Aye, aye, there was all one wood once upon a time: from here to the Mountains of Lune, and this was just the East End.
''Those were the broad days! Time was when I could walk and sing all day and hear no more than the echo of my own voice in the hollow hills. The woods were like the woods of Lothlórien. only thicker stronger, younger. And the smell of the air! I used to spend a week just breathing.''
Treebeard fell silent, striding along, and yet making hardly a sound with his great feet. Then he began to hum again, and passed into a murmuring chant. Gradually the hobbits became aware that he was chanting to them:

...until the heart betrays​

 ​

In the willow-meads of Tasarinan I walked in the Spring.
Ah! the sight and the smell of the Spring in Nan-tasarion!
And I said that was good.
I wandered in Summer in the elm-woods of Ossiriand.
Ah! the light and the music in the Summer by the Seven Rivers of Ossir!
And I thought that was best.
To the beeches of Neldoreth I came in the Autumn.
Ah! the gold and the red and the sighing of leaves in the Autumn in Taur-na-neldor!
It was more than my desire.
To the pine-trees upon the highland of Dorthonion I climbed in the Winter.
Ah! the wind and the whiteness and the black branches of Winter upon Orod-na-Thôn!
My voice went up and sang in the sky.
And now all those lands lie under the wave.
And I walk in Ambaróna, in Tauremorna, in Aldalómë.
In my own land, in the country of Fangorn,
Where the roots are long,
And the years lie thicker than the leaves
In Tauremornalómë.​

He ended, and strode on silently, and in all the wood, as far as ear could reach, there was not a sound.
The day waned, and dusk was twined about the boles of the trees. At last the hobbits saw, rising dimly before them, a steep dark land: they had come to the feet of the mountains, and to the green roots of tall Methedras. Down the hillside the young Entwash, leaping from its springs high above, ran noisily from step to step to meet them. On the right of the stream there was a long slope, clad with grass, now grey in the twilight. No trees grew there and it was open to the sky; stars were shining already in lakes between shores of cloud.
Treebeard strode up the slope, hardly slackening his pace. Suddenly before them the hobbits saw a wide opening. Two great trees stood there, one on either side, like living gate-posts; but there was no gate save their crossing and interwoven boughs. As the old Ent approached, the trees lifted up their branches, and all their leaves quivered and rustled. For they were evergreen trees, and their leaves were dark and polished, and gleamed in the twilight. Beyond them was a wide level space, as though the floor of a great hall had been cut in the side of the hill. On either hand the walls sloped upwards, until they were fifty feet high or more, and along each wall stood an aisle of trees that also increased in height as they marched inwards.
At the far end the rock-wall was sheer, but at the bottom it had been hollowed back into a shallow bay with an arched roof: the only roof of the hall, save the branches of the trees, which at the inner end overshadowed all the ground leaving only a broad open path in the middle. A little stream escaped from the springs above, and leaving the main water, fell tinkling down the sheer face of the wall, pouring in silver drops, like a fine curtain in front of the arched bay. The water was gathered again into a stone basin in the floor between the trees, and thence it spilled and flowed away beside the open path, out to rejoin the Entwash in its journey through the forest.
''Hm! Here we are!'' said Treebeard, breaking his long silence. ''I have brought you about seventy thousand ent-strides, but what that comes to in the measurement of your land I do not know. Anyhow we are near the roots of the Last Mountain. Part of the name of this place might be Wellinghall, if it were turned into your language. I like it. We will stay here tonight.'' He set them down on the grass between the aisles of the trees, and they followed him towards the great arch. The hobbits now noticed that as he walked his knees hardly bent, but his legs opened in a great stride. He planted his big toes (and they were indeed big, and very broad) on the ground first, before any other part of his feet.
For a moment Treebeard stood under the rain of the falling spring, and took a deep breath; then he laughed, and passed inside. A great stone table stood there, but no chairs. At the back of the bay it was already quite dark. Treebeard lifted two great vessels and stood them on the table. They seemed to be filled with water; but he held his hands over them, and immediately they began to glow, one with a golden and the other with a rich green light; and the blending of the two lights lit the bay; as if the sun of summer was shining through a roof of young leaves. Looking back, the hobbits saw that the trees in the court had also begun to glow, faintly at first, but steadily quickening, until every leaf was edged with light: some green, some gold, some red as copper; while the tree-trunks looked like pillars moulded out of luminous stone.
''Well, well, now we can talk again,'' said Treebeard. ''You are thirsty I expect. Perhaps you are also tired. Drink this!'' He went to the back of the bay, and then they saw that several tall stone jars stood there, with heavy lids. He removed one of the lids, and dipped in a great ladle, and with it filled three bowls, one very large bowl, and two smaller ones.
''This is an ent-house,'' he said, ''and there are no seats, I fear. But you may sit on the table.'' Picking up the hobbits he set them on the great stone slab, six feet above the ground, and there they sat dangling their legs, and drinking in sips.
The drink was like water, indeed very like the taste of the draughts they had drunk from the Entwash near, the borders of the forest, and yet there was some scent or savour in it which they could not describe: it was faint, but it reminded them of the smell of a distant wood borne from afar by a cool breeze at night. The effect of the draught began at the toes, and rose steadily through every limb, bringing refreshment and vigour as it coursed upwards, right to the tips of the hair. Indeed the hobbits felt that the hair on their heads was actually standing up, waving and curling and growing. As for Treebeard, he first laved his feet in the basin beyond the arch, and then he drained his bowl at one draught, one long, slow draught. The hobbits thought he would never stop.
At last he set the bowl down again. ''Ah ?" ah,'' he sighed. ''Hm, hoom, now we can talk easier. You can sit on the floor, and I will lie down; that will prevent this drink from rising to my head and sending me to sleep.''
On the right side of the bay there was a great bed on low legs; not more than a couple of feet high, covered deep in dried grass and bracken. Treebeard lowered himself slowly on to this (with only the slightest sign of bending at his middle), until he lay at full length, with his arms behind his head, looking up at the ceiling. upon which lights were flickering, like the play of leaves in the sunshine. Merry and Pippin sat beside him on pillows of grass.
''Now tell me your tale, and do not hurry!'' said Treebeard.
The hobbits began to tell him the story of their adventures ever since they left Hobbiton. They followed no very clear order, for they interrupted one another continually, and Treebeard often stopped the speaker, and went back to some earlier point, or jumped forward asking questions about later events. They said nothing whatever about the Ring, and did not tell him why they set out or where they were going to; and he did not ask for any reasons.
He was immensely interested in everything: in the Black Riders, in Elrond, and Rivendell, in the Old Forest, and Tom Bombadil, in the Mines of Moria, and in Lothlórien and Galadriel. He made them describe the Shire and its country over and over again. He said an odd thing at this point. ''You never see any, hm, any Ents round there do you?'' he asked. ''Well, not Ents, Entwives I should really say.''
''Entwives?'' said Pippin. ''Are they like you at all?''
''Yes, hm, well no: I do not really know now,'' said Treebeard thoughtfully. ''But they would like your country, so I just wondered.''
Treebeard was however especially interested in everything that concerned Gandalf; and most interested of all in Saruman''s doings. The hobbits regretted very much that they knew so little about them: only a rather vague report by Sam of what Gandalf had told the Council. But they were clear at any rate that Uglúk and his troop came from Isengard, and spoke of Saruman as their master.
''Hm, hoom!'' said Treebeard, when at last their story had wound and wandered down to the battle of the Orcs and the Riders of Rohan. ''Well, well! That is a bundle of news and no mistake. You have not told me all, no indeed, not by a long way. But I do not doubt that you are doing as Gandalf would wish. There is something very big going on, that I can see, and what it is maybe I shall learn in good time, or in bad time. By root and twig, but it is a strange business: up sprout a little folk that are not in the old lists, and behold the Nine forgotten Riders reappear to hunt them, and Gandalf takes them on a great journey, and Galadriel harbours them in Caras Galadhon, and Orcs pursue them down all the leagues of Wilderland: indeed they seem to be caught up in a great storm. I hope they weather it!''
''And what about yourself?'' asked Merry.
''Hoom, hm, I have not troubled about the Great Wars,'' said Treebeard; ''they mostly concern Elves and Men. That is the business of Wizards: Wizards are always troubled about the future. I do not like worrying about the future. I am not altogether on anybody''s side, because nobody is altogether on my side, if you understand me: nobody cares for the woods as I care for them, not even Elves nowadays. Still, I take more kindly to Elves than to others: it was the Elves that cured us of dumbness long ago, and that was a great gift that cannot be forgotten, though our ways have parted since. And there are some things, of course, whose side I am altogether not on; I am against them altogether: these ?" burárum'' (he again made a deep rumble of disgust)'' ?" these Orcs, and their masters.
''I used to be anxious when the shadow lay on Mirkwood, but when it removed to Mordor, I did not trouble for a while: Mordor is a long way away. But it seems that the wind is setting East, and the withering of all woods may be drawing near. There is naught that an old Ent can do to hold back that storm: he must weather it or crack.
''But Saruman now! Saruman is a neighbour: I cannot overlook him. I must do something, I suppose. I have often wondered lately what I should do about Saruman.''
''Who is Saruman?'' asked Pippin. ''Do you know anything about his history?'' ''Saruman is a Wizard,'' answered Treebeard. ''More than that I cannot say. I do not know the history of Wizards. They appeared first after the Great Ships came over the Sea; but if they came with the Ships I never can tell. Saruman was reckoned great among them, I believe. He gave up wandering about and minding the affairs of Men and Elves, some time ago ?" you would call it a very long time ago: and he settled down at Angrenost, or Isengard as the Men of Rohan call it. He was very quiet to begin with, but his fame began to grow. He was chosen to be head of the White Council, they say; but that did not turn out too well. I wonder now if even then Saruman was not turning to evil ways. But at any rate he used to give no trouble to his neighbours. I used to talk to him. There was a time when he was always walking about my woods. He was polite in those days, always asking my leave (at least when he met me); and always eager to listen. I told him many things that he would never have found out by himself; but he never repaid me in like kind. I cannot remember that he ever told. me anything. And he got more and more like that; his face, as I remember it ?" I have not seen it for many a day ?" became like windows in a stone wall: windows with shutters inside.''I think that I now understand what he is up to. He is plotting to become a Power. He has a mind of metal and wheels; and he does not care for growing things, except as far as they serve him for the moment. And now it is clear that he is a black traitor. He has taken up with foul folk, with the Orcs. Brm, hoom! Worse than that: he has been doing something to them; something dangerous. For these Isengarders are more like wicked Men. It is a mark of evil things that came in the Great Darkness that they cannot abide the Sun; but Saruman''s Orcs can endure it, even if they hate it. I wonder what he has done? Are they Men he has ruined, or has he blended the races of Orcs and Men? That would be a black evil!''
Treebeard rumbled for a moment, as if he were pronouncing some deep, subterranean Entish malediction. ''Some time ago I began to wonder how Orcs dared to pass through my woods so freely,'' he went on. ''Only lately did I guess that Saruman was to blame, and that long ago he had been spying out all the ways, and discovering my secrets. He and his foul folk are making havoc now. Down on the borders they are felling trees-good trees. Some of the trees they just cut down and leave to rot ?" orc-mischief that; but most are hewn up and carried off to feed the fires of Orthanc. There is always a smoke rising from Isengard these days.
''Curse him, root and branch! Many of those trees were my friends creatures I had known from nut and acorn; many had voices of their own that are lost for ever now. And there are wastes of stump and bramble where once there were singing groves. I have been idle. I have let things slip. It must stop!''
Treebeard raised himself from his bed with a jerk, stood up, and thumped his hand on the table. The vessels of light trembled and sent up two jets of flame. There was a flicker like green fire in his eyes, and his beard stood out stiff as a great besom.

...until the heart betrays​

 ​