The Two Towers (The Lord of the Rings, #2)

by J.R.R. Tolkien

Then his grey cloak drew apart, and they saw, beyond doubt, that he was clothed beneath all in white. ‘Saruman!’ cried Gimli, springing towards him with axe in hand. ‘Speak! Tell us where you have hidden our friends! What have you done with them? Speak, or I will make a dint in your hat that even a wizard will find it hard to deal with!’

The sword of Aragorn, stiff in his motionless hand, blazed with a sudden fire.

‘Mithrandir!’ he cried. ‘Mithrandir!’ ‘Well met, I say to you again, Legolas!’ said the old man.

The Enemy, of course, has long known that the Ring is abroad, and that it is borne by a hobbit.

For if he had used all his power to guard Mordor, so that none could enter, and bent all his guile to the hunting of the Ring, then indeed hope would have faded: neither Ring nor bearer could long have eluded him.

They have not found the Ring. Neither have they brought away any hobbits as hostages. Had they done even so much as that, it would have been a heavy blow to us, and it might have been fatal.

A thing is about to happen which has not happened since the Elder Days: the Ents are going to wake up and find that they are strong.’

I have spoken words of hope. But only of hope. Hope is not victory. War is upon us and all our friends, a war in which only the use of the Ring could give us surety of victory.

I am Gandalf, Gandalf the White, but Black is mightier still.’

We can no longer be tempted to use the Ring. We must go down to face a peril near despair, yet that deadly peril is removed.’

‘Come, Aragorn son of Arathorn!’ he said.

But the quest of your companions is over. Your next journey is marked by your given word. You must go to Edoras and seek out Théoden in his hall. For you are needed. The light of Andúril must now be uncovered in the battle for which it has so long waited.

‘Then are we not to see the merry young hobbits again?’ said Legolas. ‘I did not say so,’ said Gandalf. ‘Who knows? Have patience. Go where you must go, and hope!

The grey figure of the Man, Aragorn son of Arathorn, was tall, and stern as stone, his hand upon the hilt of his sword; he looked as if some king out of the mists of the sea had stepped upon the shores of lesser men.

The Dark Lord has Nine. But we have One, mightier than they: the White Rider. He has passed through the fire and the abyss, and they shall fear him. We will go where he leads.’

Far, far below the deepest delvings of the Dwarves, the world is gnawed by nameless things.

In that despair my enemy was my only hope, and I pursued him, clutching at his heel. Thus he brought me back at last to the secret ways of Khazad-dûm: too well he knew them all. Ever up now we went, until we came to the Endless Stair.’

The sun shone fiercely there, but all below was wrapped in cloud. Out he sprang, and even as I came behind, he burst into new flame.

I threw down my enemy, and he fell from the high place and broke the mountain-side where he smote it in his ruin.

I was alone, forgotten, without escape upon the hard horn of the world.

But there is another that strides ahead: a very great horse. I have not seen his like before.’ ‘Nor will you again,’ said Gandalf. ‘That is Shadowfax. He is the chief of the Mearas, lords of horses, and not even Théoden, King of Rohan, has ever looked on a better.

He has come for me: the horse of the White Rider. We are going to battle together.’

Far let us ride now together, and part not in this world again!’

‘I see a great smoke,’ said Legolas. ‘What may that be?’ ‘Battle and war!’ said Gandalf. ‘Ride on!’

I am old. If I may not lean on my stick as I go, then I will sit out here, until it pleases Théoden to hobble out himself to speak with me.’ Aragorn laughed. ‘Every man has something too dear to trust to another. But would you part an old man from his support?

I believe you are friends and folk worthy of honour, who have no evil purpose. You may go in.’

Why should I welcome you, Gandalf Stormcrow? Tell me that.’ Slowly he sat down again in his chair.

Why indeed should we welcome you, Master Stormcrow? Láthspell I name you, Ill-news; and ill news is an ill guest they say.’

Where now was the Ring-bearer? How thin indeed was the thread upon which doom still hung!

‘To put your trust in Éomer, rather than in a man of crooked mind. To cast aside regret and fear. To do the deed at hand. Every man that can ride should be sent west at once, as Éomer counselled you: we must first destroy the threat of Saruman, while we have time.

we fail, we fall. If we succeed – then we will face the next task.

And I promised Éomer that my sword and his should be drawn together.’ ‘Now indeed there is hope of victory!’ said Éomer.

When all the men were dead, you were to pick your share of the treasure, and take the woman you desire? Too long have you watched her under your eyelids and haunted her steps.’ Éomer grasped his sword. ‘That I knew already,’ he muttered.

It was the third evening since they had fled from the Company, as far as they could tell: they had almost lost count of the hours during which they had climbed and laboured among the barren slopes and stones of the Emyn Muil, sometimes retracing their steps because they could find no way forward, sometimes discovering that they had wandered in a circle back to where they had been hours before.

But their eyes did not look beyond the River, back to Gondor, to their friends, to the lands of Men.

‘That’s the one place in all the lands we’ve ever heard of that we don’t want to see any closer; and that’s the one place we’re trying to get to! And that’s just where we can’t get, nohow.

his eyes remained fixed, staring out towards the dark line and the flickering flame. ‘Mordor!’ he muttered under his breath. ‘If I must go there, I wish I could come there quickly and make an end!’ He shuddered.

Delay plays into the Enemy’s hands – and here I am: delayed. Is it the will of the Dark Tower that steers us? All my choices have proved ill.

Every day that passes is a precious day lost. I am tired, Sam. I don’t know what is to be done. What food have we got left?’

‘I’ve heard nothing, and seen nothing, for two nights now.’ ‘Nor me,’ said Sam. ‘Grrr! Those eyes did give me a turn! But perhaps we’ve shaken him off at last, the miserable slinker.

Gollum! I’ll give him gollum in his throat, if ever I get my hands on his neck.’ ‘I hope you’ll never need to,’ said Frodo.

They could go no further forwards, and must turn now either west or east. But west would lead them only into more labour and delay, back towards the heart of the hills; east would take them to the outer precipice.

But it’s only sense: put the one lowest as is most likely to slip. I don’t want to come down atop of you and knock you off – no sense in killing two with one fall.’

‘No, no! Sam, you old ass!’ said Frodo. ‘You’ll kill yourself for certain, going over like that without even a look to see what to make for. Come back!’ He took Sam under the armpits and hauled him up again.

What if you comes to a place where there’s nowhere to put your feet or your hands?’ ‘Climb back, I suppose,’ said Frodo.

The hobbits had heard just such a cry far away in the Marish as they fled from Hobbiton, and even there in the woods of the Shire it had frozen their blood.

Sam fell flat on his face. Involuntarily Frodo loosed his hold and put his hands over his head and ears. He swayed, slipped, and slithered downwards with a wailing cry.

But either the darkness had grown complete, or else his eyes had lost their sight. All was black about him. He wondered if he had been struck blind. He took a deep breath.

Why could not his master see? It was dim, certainly, but not as dark as all that. He could see Frodo below him, a grey forlorn figure splayed against the cliff. But he was far out of the reach of any helping hand.

‘Who’d have thought it!’ Frodo exclaimed. ‘Ah! Who would?’ said Sam.