And as far as Frodo was concerned, the world had disappeared only to be replaced by an insurmountable agony. But an interrogation room was not one full of protocol or common etiquette. Frodo did not want to loose all self-control in front of total strangers. All that he was aware of was a burning pain and shrill scream, which sounded too surreal to be his own. The pain struck so suddenly that Frodo wasn't sure when he started screaming. No one ever expected to feel an arm being pulled from its socket. "Wrong answer, brat!" the Orc snarled as his fingers went to one of the levers and cranked it: hard.įrodo wasn't sure what he had been expecting. "I'm in the tower because the Spider stung me and your subordinates found me!" He had been about to say "Your people or men" or something to that effect, but somehow those words didn't quite fit. ![]() "How many times must I tell you?" Frodo snarled with all the indignation he could muster. "I need only three questions answered: Who are you? How did you get here? And what in the name of Lord Sauron are you doing here?" Which means I'll wish I was born, which makes no sense at all, Frodo silently amended, although the implications were undeniable. "If not," the Orc continued relentlessly, "you'll wish were weren't never born." The mere prospect of acquiring freedom should be used as an incentive: not outright denial of it. Telling a prisoner they were bound to die was the last way to acquire information. Yer here for a reason, runt, and the sooner you tell us, the quicker you'll die!"įrodo just mentally rolled his eyes at that. Yer the first one to come on his own mind. None of your kind has ever come here before, save one. The Orc merely shook his shaggy head of dreadlocks. “I know nothing." He coughed again, which was a very uncomfortable - and quite frankly dangerous - thing to do while lying on your chest. "I already told you," Frodo whimpered, coughing as he eyed the knife and whip at the Orc's belt, before quickly turning away. It felt like he was slowly dying of suffocation. But what Frodo cared about the most was staying alive and he was surprised he didn’t suffocate to death with his nose so close to that mouth. The poor hobbit recoiled at one look of his face, those horrible yellow eyes and the breath that stank of blood and the decayed flesh stuck between his sharp, jagged teeth. "Now, runt, you will talk!" Gorbag ordered, leaning close to Frodo's face. He made no attempt to hide the vibration in his knees as he was led towards the principle piece of machinery within the center of the room.īefore Frodo even knew what was happening, he found himself lying face down on the steel platform as his wrists and ankles were chained down tightly. His mind, though, was in the worst shape because there was nothing in it. His knees began to shake and his face lost all color. ![]() Along the wall was a small fireplace and gathered around it were not the flowers and pictures such as had been present at every home he had ever visited, but rather several large barrels and iron contraptions, whose purpose he did not wish to guess. The room was dark, save for a small glimmer of red light from the Mountain’s Fire. But it was not amazement that reflected in his panicked eyes, but rather bewilderment and horror, mixed in with a growing dread. Setting: The Tower of Cirith Ungol, Mordor Ma(Immediately following Ch.5: To Tell the Truth)*įrodo found his feet glued to the ground, his eyes fixed on the enormous room around him. Frodo to Sam in The Return of the King, The Tower of Cirith Ungol. “Only ? It seems weeks…I fell into darkness and foul dreams and woke and found that waking was worse.” Lots of torture because, after all, Frodo is an Orc prisoner! You can’t very well forget that. I thought of putting one of those graphic warnings up for this chapter, but decided against it since there is no nudity or anything sexual in nature, which those warnings usually imply, but there is torture in the following pages. Oh whatever! * grabs teddy bear and pillows * Adios! I’ve already replied to my wonderful reviews so I don’t think I’ll do that again. Author’s Note: * glances at clock * 3 AM? Gee wiz, I’m going to bed.
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