'What do you think?' said Gimli.
     'I think that the enemy brought his own enemy with him,' answered
Aragorn. 'These are Northern Orcs from far away. Among the slain are
none of the great Orcs with the strange badges. There was a quarrel, I
guess: it is no uncommon thing with these foul folk. Maybe there was
some dispute about the road.'
     'Or about the captives,' said Gimli. 'Let us hope that they, too, did
not meet their end here.'
     Aragorn searched the ground in a wide circle, but no other traces of
the fight could be found. They went on. Already the eastward sky was
turning pale; the stars were fading, and a grey light was slowly
growing. A little further north they came to a fold in which a tiny
stream, falling and winding, had cut a stony path down into the
valley. In it some bushes grew, and there were patches of grass upon
its sides.
     'At last!' said Aragorn. 'Here are the tracks that we seek! Up this
water-channel: this is the way that the Orcs went after their debate.'
     Swiftly now the pursuers turned and followed the new path. As if fresh
from a night's rest they sprang from stone to stone. At last they
reached the crest of the grey hill, and a sudden breeze blew in their