The sobbing gasps died as the prisoner passed off. Sauron examined the marks on the rack and checked his notes. "Continue," he snarled. The Orc at the wheel crouched and obeyed the command all too eagerly. The rupture of the overstretched tendons almost could be heard.
Sauron slowly rose from his chair. "Why," he said in a dangerously calm voice, his gaze aimed at no-one in particular, "why is it that my projects are constantly hindered? How am I supposed to continue my research on the Elven tendons elasticity if I constantly run out of material? Can you imagine how difficult it is to arrange that the subjects are of more or less the same the stature and physical condition?" He sighed. "No, you probably cannot." Another sigh, as he took a different file of notes, considerably thicker. "Luckily, my research of the different physical properties of the individual Orc tribes can always use a supplement. Put him on the rack and continue."