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 a 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 some 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.’
‘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.
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
or make a 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 some 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.’
‘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.
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
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