This is another older short story, written about four years ago in 2010 (wow! That was forever ago!) as part of a larger story I was working on at the time. It's not my best, but I suppose it could be worse. Enjoy!

*Disclaimer! I do not own The Lord of the Rings or anything related.

- In The Tower

Burning… my throat… something is burning me. Dimly my fevered brain pieces together that the burning is liquid. Something is being poured down my throat.

I cough and open my eyes a sliver, then quickly shut them to escape the scene before me. "Oi lads! Looks like this little pup is waking up!" A harsh voice bellows. I open my eyes again and stare in fear. Orcs! I must be dreaming. I think. Oh, please let me be dreaming.

Suddenly more of the burning fluid is forced in my open mouth. "Stop!" I croak. "What? Ya don' like it?" The orc who was pouring the liquid growled. "Look here! Ee' doesn't want to take his medicine!" More of the burning drink was poured as the orcs yammered and laughed, and suddenly I felt my stomach churn. I gulped and tried to move my hand over my mouth but my hands were tied. From gulping went to heaving as my stomach forced everything up and out.

The orcs howled with laughter.

As the heaving subsided and while the orcs were distracted I was able to make an assessment of myself and my surroundings. I didn't seem to be hurt, except for a pain in the back of my neck and that I felt rather sick. I was naked and my hands were tied, I seemed to be in a small dark room with only a harsh orange-red light, and... oh no. The Ring was gone!

Panic now filled all my mind. I had failed, they had taken it. Oh, where was Sam?

"Now listen up, you!" An orc snarled in my face. "What are you doing in the Dark Lord's lands, eh? Who sent you?"

I didn't reply.

"Well?" The orc persisted, but I knew I couldn't tell them anything. "Look here, if you don't start talking we'll start having some fun with you." The orc said, fondling a whip in his hands. I glared at him, I wasn't going to say anything. Besides, what were a few whip lashes? I've endured worse.

"What's this?" The orc said. My heart jumped in my chest as he touched the scar on my left shoulder. "How'd you come by this little badge of honor?" He said and spat. "Hey boys! We could have some fun with this!" A guffaw of laughter went up.

I winced as the orc slowly ran his claw down the old wound; greedily licking the blood off his fingers. "Now, unless you want to have this sliced open again you'd better start talking." The orc hissed.

I clamped my mouth shut against the cries of pain that rose in my throat as one by one the orcs took turns running their claws down my shoulder.

It hurt but I remained firm. I had too.

"Damn you!" The first orc snarled as he threw me on the ground roughly on my bad shoulder. This time I did cry out in pain as the wraith inflicted wound throbbed.

"Why are you here?!" The orc demanded fallowed by a stinging lash from his whip. I whimpered as blows from the whip rained down upon me but nothing could be more painful than the realization that I had failed. The Quest had failed.

Finally the blows stopped. I had won this round. "We'll give you a little time to think before we tare you to pieces." The orc with the whip growled. It wasn't until all the orcs had left and I was alone that I allowed the tears to come.