and on with only brief halts。 These they made not so much for rest as to
help Gollum； for now even he had to go forward with great care； and he was
sometimes at a loss for a while。 They had e to the very midst of the Dead
Marshes； and it was dark。
They walked slowly； stooping； keeping close in line； following
attentively every move that Gollum made。 The fens grew more wet； opening
into wide stagnant meres； among which it grew more and more difficult to
find the firmer places where feet could tread without sinking into gurgling
mud。 The travellers were light； or maybe none of them would ever have found
a way through。
Presently it grew altogether dark： the air itself seemed black and
heavy to breathe。 When lights appeared Sam rubbed his eyes： he thought his
head was going queer。 He first saw one with the corner of his left eye； a
wisp of pale sheen that faded away； but others appeared soon after： some
like dimly shining smoke； some like misty flames flickering slowly above
unseen candles； here and there they twisted like ghostly sheets unfurled by
hidden hands。 But neither of his panions spoke a word。
At last Sam could bear it no longer。 ‘What's all this； Gollum？ ' he
said in a whisper。 ‘These lights？ They're all round us now。 Are we trapped？
Who are they？ '
Gollum looked up。 A dark water was before him； and he was crawling on
the ground； this way and that； doubtful of the way。 'Yes； they are all round
us；' he whispered。 'The tricksy lights。 Candles of corpses； yes； yes。 Don't
you heed them！ Don't look！ Don't follow them！ Where's the master？ '
Sam looked back and found that Frodo had lagged again。 He could not see
him。 He went some paces back into the darkness； not daring to move far； or
to call in more than a hoarse whisper。 Suddenly he stumbled against Frodo；
who was standing lost in thought； looking at the pale lights。 His hands hung
stiff at his sides； water and slime were dripping from them。
‘e； Mr。 Frodo！ ' said Sam。 'Don't look at them！ Gollum says we
mustn't。 Let's keep up with him and get out of this cursed place as quick as
we can if we can！ '
‘All right；' said Frodo； as if returning out of a dream。 'I'm ing。
Go on！ '
Hurrying forward again； Sam tripped； catching his foot in some old root
or tussock。 He fell and came heavily on his hands； which sank deep into
sticky ooze； so that his face was brought close to the surface of the dark
mere。 There was a faint hiss； a noisome smell went up； the lights flickered
and danced and swirled。 For a moment the water below him looked like some
window； glazed with grimy glass； through which he was peering。 Wrenching his
hands out of the bog； he sprang back with a cry。 'There are dead things；
dead faces in the water；' he said with horror。 'Dead faces！ '
Gollum laughed。 'The Dead Marshes； yes； yes： that is their names；' he
cackled。 ‘You should not look in when the candles are lit。'
‘Who are they？ What are they？ ' asked Sam shuddering； turning to Frodo；
who was now behind him。
'I don't know；' said Frodo in a dreamlike voice。 'But I have seen them
too。 In the pools when the candles were lit。 They lie in all the pools； pale
faces； deep deep under the dark water。 I saw them： grim faces and evil； and
noble faces and sad。 Many faces proud and fair； and weeds in their silver
hair。 But all foul； all rotting； all dead。 A fell light is in them。' Frodo
hid his eyes in his hands。 'I know not who they are； but I thought I saw
there Men and Elves； and Orcs beside them。'
‘Yes； yes；' said Gollum。 ‘All dead； all rotten。 Elves and Men and Orcs。
The Dead Marshes。 There was a great battle long ago； yes； so they told him
when Smjagol was young； when I was young before the Precious came。 It was a
great battle。 Tall Men with long swords； and terrible Elves； and Orcses
shrieking。 They fought on the plain for days and months at the Black Gates。
But the Marshes have grown since then； swallowed up the graves； always
creeping； creeping。'
'But that is an age and more ago；' said Sam。 'The Dead can't be really
there！ Is it some devilry hatched in the Dark Land？ '
‘Who knows？ Smjagol doesn't know；' answered Gollum。 'You cannot reach
them； you cannot touch them。 We tried once； 。yes； precious。 I tried once；
but you cannot reach them。 Only shapes to see； perhaps； not to touch。 No
precious！ All dead。'
Sam looked darkly at him and shuddered again； thinking that he guessed
why Smjagol had tried to touch them。 ‘Well； I don't want to see them；' he
said。 'Never again！ Can't we get on and get away？ '
‘Yes； yes；' said Gollum。 ‘But slowly； very slowly。 Very carefully！ Or
hobbits go down to join the Dead ones and light little candles。 Follow
Smjagol！ Don't look at lights！ '
He crawled away to the right； seeking for a path round the mere。 They
came close behind； stooping； often using their hands even as he did。 'Three
precious little Gollums in a row we shall be； if this goes on much longer；'
thought Sam。
At last they came to the end of the black mere； and they crossed it；
perilously； crawling or hopping from one treacherous island tussock to
another。 Often they floundered； stepping or falling hands…first into waters
as noisome as a cesspool； till they were slimed and fouled almost up to
their necks and stank in one another's nostrils。
It was late in the night when at length they reached firmer ground
again。 Gollum hissed and whispered to himself； but it appeared that he was
pleased： in some mysterious way； by some blended sense of feel； and smell；
and uncanny memory for shapes in the dark； he seemed to know just where he
was again； and to be sure of his road ahead。
‘Now on we go！ ' he said。 'Nice hobbits！ Brave hobbits！ Very very
weary； of course； so we are； my precious； all of us。 But we must take master
away from the wicked lights； yes； yes； we must。' With these words he started
off again； almost at a trot； down what appeared to be a long lane between
high reeds； and they stumbled after him as quickly as they could。 But in a
little while he stopped suddenly and sniffed the air doubtfully； hissing as
if he was troubled or displeased again。
'What is it？ ' growled Sam； misinterpreting the signs。 ‘What's the need
to sniff？ The stink nearly knocks me down with my nose held。 You stink； and
master stinks； the whole place stinks。'
'Yes； yes； and Sam stinks！ ' answered Gollum。 ‘Poor Smjagol smells it；
but good Smjagol bears it。 Helps nice master。 But that's no matter。 The
air's moving； change is ing。 Smjagol wonders； he's not happy。'
He went on again； but his uneasiness grew； and every now and again he
stood up to his full height； craning his neck eastward and southward。 For
some time the hobbits could not hear or feel what was troubling him。 Then
suddenly all three halted； stiffening and listening。 To Frodo and Sam it
seemed that they