Chapter Two

What He Did in Barad-Dûr

You could not fit a picture of Barad-Dûr on a postcard unless you were several miles away from it. Up close, you couldn't see the top of it unless you practically lay on your back. Especially if you were scarcely three feet high, like Peg. But Peg, when he reached the Tower half an hour later, wasn't concerned with the view. He was there simply to deliver something. As he trotted up to the gate he smoothed down his clothes and made sure he looked sufficiently spiffy for the guards of the Fortress.

Then he knocked.

A window high in the iron gate screeched open and the large face of a troll looked down. He roared at Peg and, putting his shoulder to the heavy door, swung it just open enough for Peg to get in. This was about six inches. Peg looked rather round and stout at first appearances, but that was because he walked, like all orcs, hunched over. When he stretched out, he was all sinew.

There was an Uruk-hai standing within, between the troll's legs. He scowled at Peg and cuffed him.

'What do you want?' he demanded. But of course he knew he brought a message. Small orcs like Peg didn't come to the Dark Tower on their own volition, just to look around.

Peg held out the parchment.

'For Lord Sauron?' asked the Uruk-hai.

Peg shrugged.

'Take it up to the Mouth,' said the other, and turned him towards the stairway. 'First door at the top of the stairs. NOT the second. That'll take you to the Eye.'

'I want the Mouth?' asked Peg.

'You want the Mouth, replied the Uruk. He kicked him. 'Now move!'

Peg had gotten a good start from the Uruk-hai's encouraging nudge. He was already trotting up the stairs.

Up and up he went. A hundred storeys, two hundred storeys, three hundred storeys, and suddenly –

There Was A Door.

Peg looked at it. It was a heavy iron door like the one down at the bottom of the Tower, but not as large. On it was painted a red eye, like Peg carried on his shield. And all of a sudden he wondered why the Uruk had made him bring up the paper and had refused to come up himself. Perhaps he was guarding the gate. Yes, that was it.

Peg laid both hands on the door and shoved.

It swung slowly open.

The room was very dark, but there was a red light from a lamp on a table from the far end. It emitted a faint glow, and in this glow sat a dark figure. It was the Mouth, and he was singing quietly to himself.

'Nah-nah-nah-nun, nun-ah-nah, nun-ah-nah, nah-nah-nah-nah-nah!'

He stopped suddenly.

'Who enters the chamber of the Mouth of Sauron?' he asked, calmly, as Peg stepped in. He was eating his breakfast, but he drew his sleeve over his Mouth and eyed Peg.

Presumably. Since one could never see his eyes for the helmet he wore, one never knew where he was looking, or if he was looking at all.

Peg sniffed. Breakfast smelled good, and all of a sudden he remembered that he hadn't had any. His stomach growled.

The Mouth of Sauron grinned.

'Breathe deeply, slave,' he said. 'The finest cheese, from Rhûn. The finest pepperoni from Haradwaith. All imported for The Great Lord Sauron's trusted lieutenant.'

He ate another piece with obvious relish. Peg tried to ignore his stomach. Everyone knew that the Mouth was a formidable epicure and had an infatuation with torture of all types.

'I bring a message for Lord Sauron,' said Peg.

The Mouth smiled broadly. 'Give it to me' he said. Peg did so. The Mouth read it over and thought and read it over again and thought some more. Then, he carefully closed up his pizza box, tucked it under his arm, and went to the door.

'I will read this to our Master,' he said, smiling cheerfully. 'Remain here. It may be he will send an answer.'

Peg watched as he left the room, and then looked around him.

The room was decorated with many dark devices for inflicting pain, and many stones, jewels, and pieces of jewellery that must have possessed deep magic. There was a great round stone on a small table in the very centre of the room, and when Peg looked at it he thought he saw another tall tower with great trees beyond it. But he grew disinterested with that and went on in his inspection of the place wherein he had found himself.

There was a single window high up in the wall, barred tightly. Peg saw it now that his eyes were adjusted, and he wondered what the view was like. He climbed up on the table where the Mouth had been sitting not long before and reached for the window. The wall was smooth, but Peg was used to climbing cliffs and he found slight cracks in the stone that helped him. His hand reached the latch of the shutter, and he tugged at the covering. Then, the shutters came open and he looked out.

But here he was surprised. The window was on the wrong side of the wall, and did not look out over Mordor but looked across the summit of the Tower, where stood the Eye!

For just a split second the Eye didn't notice him. It was looking at the Mouth, who had come up on top and was speaking to it. But all of a sudden it looked over.

'Rah!' said the Eye.

Peg screamed and fell away from the window. His fall was broken by the table, and everything on it rattled and then fell with a crash as he smashed through the wood.

He reached the floor and a shower of gold and jewels came down upon him. There had been a chest resting on the table, and it had been upset. It threw its contents into the air and they continued to fall for several seconds. When at last it was silent and still again, Peg looked around.

The room was quite a mess. He muttered to himself as he scrambled out of the pile of treasure and roughly began scooping it up and throwing it back into the chest. This was a fine state of things!

It took him but a few minutes to clean off the floor, but the table would never be the same again, and sapphires and coins were still falling out of his armour every time he moved. He shook himself, picked up everything that fell out, and tried to make sure it all at least looked normal. He stood back, satisfied with his work, and heard the door open.

The Mouth strode in.

'Word has it that you are a good runner, snaga,' he said.

Peg turned a little pink and dropped his chin shyly.

'I want you to go to Isengard,' said the Mouth, 'and take this message to Saruman the White.'

Peg took the paper handed him and tried to find somewhere to put it.

'Run quickly,' said the Mouth. 'And avoid elves and men who would destroy you as they would a fly upon the wall.'

Peg nodded, and stuffed the parchment into his helmet.

'Until you come back, of course,' grinned the Mouth. 'Then you can encounter as many as you like, because we won't need you anymore. I wonder how much pain one so small could endure?'

Peg moved towards the door.

'Go!' said the Mouth, determined to get in a last word. He was a rather talkative fellow.

Peg went.

Down a hundred flights. Down two hundred. Down three hundred, and across the courtyard of Barad-Dûr. The troll opened the door for him, and he waved to the Uruk-hai as he went out.

Outside the gate, he paused, and looked north toward the Black Gate. That was his way out. Isengard wasn't far. He could be back in a day or two, even if he took it easy.

He jumped suddenly as a body appeared. There were a pair of barrels standing outside the gate, and Gwigolla had just jumped out of one.

She snorted a hello.

'What are you doing here?' demanded Peg. 'You're supposed to be at Dwardof.'

'Oh, no,' said Gwigolla. 'We're moving out. This very day. Towards Isengard.'

'That's where I'm going!' said Peg.

'Of course you are,' said Gwigolla. 'I came to get you. The armies are assembling and heading toward the Gate now. Come on.'

Peg began to follow her, but he tripped over a stone and sprawled headlong. He paused as he heard a strange plink, kerplunk, kerplink and saw something shiny and round bouncing away from him down the hill. Gwigolla dove after it, caught it and held it up. Peg rose to his feet and looked at it.

'Drop this?' asked the she-orc, and tossed it to him. 'Let's go.'

And she bounded away northwards.

Peg looked at the round gold ring in his hand. It was very simple, a bit too large for any of his fingers, but very light and strangely beautiful. He stroked it, then took off his helmet, dropped it inside, and clamped it on again.

It was probably some of the treasure that had caught in his clothes at the top of the Tower. But he wasn't going all the way up those stairs just to take it back. The Mouth of Sauron would think he had stolen it on purpose, and they obviously had enough of the rest to go around.

Besides, it was pretty. And he wanted it.

He set off towards the Black Gate and soon caught up with Gwigolla.