A/N ----- This is my first fanfiction so reviews would be so very much
appreciated. I'm not sure if I should continue with the idea or not. Any
input from the readers would be nice I'm open to ideas. The form of torture
was taken from a book called 1984 in case any of you recognize it. It's
rather effective eh heh no hurting the author please for doing this to a
most beloved character.
Summary ----- A/U Frodo is brought to the breaking point in Cirith Ungol by twisted forms of torture. If Sam ever finds him will his mind be completely destroyed? And there's a new obstacle in Sam's way. ::cough:: Lathian ::cough::
Disclaimer ----- No one is mine and I'm sorry to Tolkien for doing this to his wonderful characters! ::sobs:: I'm sorry to everybody! Oh but the perfectly evil "Dark Wizard of Ruin" named Lathian is mine. His name is taken from the Middle English meaning "loathing" He is the Master of Torments. His job? To break the minds of Sauron's captives a.k.a. Frodo ::cue scary music::
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He opened his eyes to see a haze of blurred objects swimming about his vision. Something burning shot down his throat and he swallowed unwillingly, choking and gagging, but it seemed to drag him back from the dark place.
Frodo reeled back, crying out through clench teeth, as the foul liquid hit his stomach with a painful burn that woke him to a horrifying reality. His eyes teared uncontrollably and for a while he could not see beyond that. But once the tears subsided his vision was still clouded as he staggered back, his head pounding, his mind racing witlessly. He could not make heads or tails of the matter. Iron claws snatched his arms and he grew rigid as the cruel hands bit into his skin. This was the first realization he made. He was stripped bare.
A shudder ran all through the little hobbit as feelings of indignation and helplessness gained control over his reeling mind. He felt himself being pulled back through the years and being formed into a simple, defenseless child. He was lifted off the ground as he went ramrod straight in utter, stricken fear. He could do nothing for the matter was still unclear in his mind and he wondered briefly if he had imbibed far too much spirits. But what really struck fear and made his mind go wild was that this was no drunken nightmare. He was surrounded by filthy, fierce orcs, their yellow, swart eyes baring into his flesh as they licked at their crooked teeth.
"Come along you filthy little rat!" snarled one that was carrying him.
This was, of course, an absurd demand for he was being carried up a dark, stone staircase and could do nothing about the matter. Frodo sought to gain control over his wits. But he was senseless as a caught coney and so filled with fear he thought his heart would stop at that moment.
"Maybe we could eat 'im, he's got nothin' left on 'im worth takin', 'cept the tender bit of flesh hangin' from them bones."
"We're not eatin' him! The boss said, 'Strip him of his belongings and take him to me for breaking!' And thass what we're doin'!"
"A pile a rotten meat s'all we got! And what use'll he be once he's broken?"
"S'what the boss said! Now shut your hole er I'll drive a new un through ya!"
Frodo's eyes grew even wider at hearing this exchange. Broken! What did that mean!? Frodo briefly pictured every last bone in his body snapping at the sheer joy of these brutes. The last thing he'd see as he lay snapped like a twig were those ugly, swart faces gaping at him. The last thing he'd hear would be those foul voices and hoots and jeers as he cried out. They might even start to devour him before he had a chance to die.
Frodo groaned aloud and this brought on a great deal of jostling which made his teeth chatter and snap together. "Quiet you!" When he felt that his spine would finally snap from that brutal shaking they slowed down and the world spun around him. He blinked a few times, turning a horrid shade of green as his stomach swirled and his brain blurred. He fought hard to keep down the few foul things that remained in his stomach. That vile liquid would not taste any better on the way back up.
He slumped down, wearied by the blinding adrenaline rush as terror that shot through him and now he was aware of a terrible pain in the back of his neck his swirling brain could not register. Images blurred together if he turned his head too fast and exactly where he was and why, he could not work out. All he knew was his fear and that was not good. He let it take hold of him and drown him in its cold blackness. Panic and dread seized him like frozen hands and dragged him away from all sense and thought.
Suddenly he was dropped like a sack of filthy rags and he did not want to get back up again. He began to swoon but he was jostled again, this time so painfully that he was thrown back down and lifted up, just to be thrown back down again. They bloodied his lip in the process. The stone floor was hard, and cold as ice on his bare skin.
"Leave him and go!" came a powerful and clear voice. It rang like the sound of heartless metal striking cold stone.
Frodo heard the orcs stomp out and back down the stair, their large clumsy feet echoing further out of hearing. He slowly attempted to raise himself on shaking arms as he coughed a spurt of red haze. Oh, it all hurt!
"Did they hurt you, halfling?"
Frodo whimpered and nodded as if expecting his mother to come and heal his scrapes and bruises. He felt hot rage boiling before him ere any more words were uttered and he shrank back with a cry.
"I told those stupid beasts not to hurt you!" rang out the voice, now hot and burning into Frodo's flesh.
A hand snatched his jaw, rather roughly and drew his eyes upon a tall, statuesque man. He was taller than a normal man and his face was hard as stone. His eyes burned like brimstone and he strode like a mountain before Frodo who shrank even more into himself. The man's fierce gaze penetrated Frodo and his jagged features curled into a sneer. He was terrible to behold, wondrous in might. Frodo bowed his shoulders and trembled. Did he kneel before a god? Could he plead for aid and mercy?
"A god?" laughed the man as if he read Frodo's thoughts. "A Valar? Well that is kind of you, halfling, but I am no Vala. Nay, nor a Maia!"
"Would you grant me mercy?" pleaded Frodo.
"Aid and mercy is what you wish?"
"I am in your debt. You took those brutes away from me. I dare not think what they wanted to do with me." Frodo raised his head finally regaining his wits. After all he was, indeed, a wise and cunning hobbit.
The man's eyes bore into Frodo as if trying to read something that was not writ plainly on his face but buried deeper. The shadows on the walls seemed to drag out and reach towards Frodo's frail and bent form. The fire leapt in the man's eyes and Frodo looked up to perceive that he was laughing! The small hobbit shuddered, and once again had the feeling of helplessness.
"You have a strong mind, halfling! A very strong mind! Like the foundation of such a sturdy building, and all of you has been built upon it. This is good and a very strong trait. But I suppose that will make my job harder. You mistake my intentions for good. Aid and mercy!" his roaring laugh broiled up and then fell again. "No, little halfling, I am Lathian, Master of Torments, employed by Sauron if you will. You see all those captured are brought to me so that they may promptly be broken."
Frodo's eyes grew wide with fright and despair. Broken! He would surely be torn to pieces now! In his mind he heard his spine snapping, his wrists cracking, his legs splitting.
"You mistake me in your thoughts again, little one!" sniggered Lathian. "Or you've only got part of it correct. Yes I shall break your body, of that there is no doubt, but if it were only that you would be thankful. No," he laughed," I am afraid my job is to break you body, mind, and spirit."
Frodo cowered and felt his heart quail as the shadows loomed closer.
"But then what to do with you, I wonder. Sauron does not yet know of your capture, but in do time he will. Still..." Lathian pondered a moment. "Even in my power you would be of little use. You see once I break them Sauron recruits them, therefore for every captive we gain a slave. It is really quite genius! But you would be no good in war. I suppose Sauron would have little to do for you and let you die. You are a lucky scamp!"
Frodo glared at the man. He was now infuriated. Lucky! He wanted to tear him limb from limb!
Lathian laughed again, "Thinking of harming me now? Oh you are very funny, indeed! Would be a shame to be rid of you after all the work it will take to snap that foundation of yours. Perhaps I could keep you. You'd make a lovely slave, halfling. Just think," and at this Lathian leaned forward and purred into Frodo's ear as the hobbit cringed and grit his teeth, "when I am through with you - you will LOVE me!"
"You are mad! How do you see my thoughts?" Frodo demanded, fury boiling in his blood.
"You're a fighter. I like it. But like I said I am no Maia. I am Master of Torments. Lathian the Ruthless. The Black Wizard of Ruin! Your mind is not secret from me."
Frodo bit back a cry.
"Look at you now. Naked and helpless. Is that how you feel, little one?"
Frodo did nothing to answer. He stared coldly at the stone. He refused to break!
"Cold. Scared. That's what it will do to you. Slowly, painfully, break those strong barriers, that wonderful foundation you call a mind. You will slowly crumple. They all crumple. Elves, men, even halflings will bend to it. By tearing away your clothes I have exposed you to me. There is nothing keeping me from you now. And soon there will be nothing keeping me from your mind. You will be laid bare, little halfling. And if I see fit to give you clothes then you may have them. And you will thank me for them. You will be in my debt as you said you were. I control everything in your world now, halfling."
Frodo straightened himself and looked up proudly, "My name is-"
A stone, hard hand clapped around Frodo's mouth and he squeaked as his last word was muffled.
"Tut, tut," smiled Lathian. "You don't have a name. You are mine to call what I will. This will break you down as well, halfling. You will soon see the truth. Everything I say is right. I control the world. If you are glad it is because I made you glad. If you are warm it is because I have given you clothes. If you are full it is because I have given you food. But if you are in agony, little halfling, it is because of your own faults that I will soon fix. If you are cold and naked it is because you do not deserve clothes. If you are hungry it is because you are stupid. Be wise. Now to begin."
Without removing his monstrous hand, that clasped over Frodo's entire jaw and even his nose, Lathian lifted the hobbit and in on swift and jostling movement, carried him to the corner and shackled his ankles. Frodo collapsed to the ground, gasping for air.
Behind him Lathian was taking up, from a bed of coals, a whip with three leather thongs dangling from the rod. Upon the end of each was embedded a small iron plate now heated by the coals. He held the torture-device lovingly.
He gave Frodo a strong kick and the hobbit, gasped again, trying desperately to squeak out his name.
"Do you have a name?" said Lathian.
"Yes- it's-"
The whip rose and fell with a cruel crack and Frodo wailed out in agony. His rent flesh burned and throbbed.
"Do you have a name?" repeated Lathian, more strongly.
Frodo gulped, swallowing tears and pain, "Yes! Yes!"
Again all three thongs tore across the small, frail back. Frodo screeched and collapsed, panting and heaving.
"Do you have a name?" bellowed Lathian.
Frodo wept.
"Do you!?" The whip raised and awaited the answer.
"What else can I say! I know it to be true! Yes I have a name! I have one!"
Once. Twice. Three times the whip slashed into him. He arched his back. His voice grew hoarse with screams. His mind reeled. His eyes burned with tears as the world took to spinning again. He swayed and fell down again.
"Get up!" Lathian latched onto him and stood the wavering hobbit but he already began to swoon. "Do you have a name?!"
"Stop it! Stop this! Yes, yes! There is no more I can say! Yes! Stop! Please!"
"But I say you do not have a name!" The whip fell again and Frodo jerked in one wrenching wail. "And I am your master!" Again it tore across his torn and bleeding flesh. "Therefore it is true. You do not have a name. You never had a name. And you were always mine. You are mine. You have no name!" Three more times the metal plates dug into Frodo's back and burned into him.
"Do you have a name!"
"No! No! No!"
The whip paused in the air. Lathian latched his grip onto Frodo's jaw and the hobbit's half lidded eyes tried to focus on the blurring images. "That was stupid," he snarled in a low rumbling tone. "That was very stupid, halfling. You are lying. You still believe you have a name."
The whip fell again. Again. Again! The thongs were now stained red, dripping with Frodo's innocent blood. He was a sobbing, bleeding mess and he could do nothing.
"Now, please, do you have a name?" Lathian asked again, his voice sweet and polite.
"Yes! No! Yes! Whatever you want! You are master! You are master! Only please! Please stop the pain!"
The whip lowered. "You are learning well, halfling." He unshackled the mess before him and cradled Frodo like a child. The hobbit blubbered and sobbed into the man's arms.
How kind! Frodo thought. Lathian was protecting him. He was trying to teach him. Yes, it was Frodo's own stupidity that caused the pain. Lathian smiled inwardly. They were making progress.
Summary ----- A/U Frodo is brought to the breaking point in Cirith Ungol by twisted forms of torture. If Sam ever finds him will his mind be completely destroyed? And there's a new obstacle in Sam's way. ::cough:: Lathian ::cough::
Disclaimer ----- No one is mine and I'm sorry to Tolkien for doing this to his wonderful characters! ::sobs:: I'm sorry to everybody! Oh but the perfectly evil "Dark Wizard of Ruin" named Lathian is mine. His name is taken from the Middle English meaning "loathing" He is the Master of Torments. His job? To break the minds of Sauron's captives a.k.a. Frodo ::cue scary music::
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He opened his eyes to see a haze of blurred objects swimming about his vision. Something burning shot down his throat and he swallowed unwillingly, choking and gagging, but it seemed to drag him back from the dark place.
Frodo reeled back, crying out through clench teeth, as the foul liquid hit his stomach with a painful burn that woke him to a horrifying reality. His eyes teared uncontrollably and for a while he could not see beyond that. But once the tears subsided his vision was still clouded as he staggered back, his head pounding, his mind racing witlessly. He could not make heads or tails of the matter. Iron claws snatched his arms and he grew rigid as the cruel hands bit into his skin. This was the first realization he made. He was stripped bare.
A shudder ran all through the little hobbit as feelings of indignation and helplessness gained control over his reeling mind. He felt himself being pulled back through the years and being formed into a simple, defenseless child. He was lifted off the ground as he went ramrod straight in utter, stricken fear. He could do nothing for the matter was still unclear in his mind and he wondered briefly if he had imbibed far too much spirits. But what really struck fear and made his mind go wild was that this was no drunken nightmare. He was surrounded by filthy, fierce orcs, their yellow, swart eyes baring into his flesh as they licked at their crooked teeth.
"Come along you filthy little rat!" snarled one that was carrying him.
This was, of course, an absurd demand for he was being carried up a dark, stone staircase and could do nothing about the matter. Frodo sought to gain control over his wits. But he was senseless as a caught coney and so filled with fear he thought his heart would stop at that moment.
"Maybe we could eat 'im, he's got nothin' left on 'im worth takin', 'cept the tender bit of flesh hangin' from them bones."
"We're not eatin' him! The boss said, 'Strip him of his belongings and take him to me for breaking!' And thass what we're doin'!"
"A pile a rotten meat s'all we got! And what use'll he be once he's broken?"
"S'what the boss said! Now shut your hole er I'll drive a new un through ya!"
Frodo's eyes grew even wider at hearing this exchange. Broken! What did that mean!? Frodo briefly pictured every last bone in his body snapping at the sheer joy of these brutes. The last thing he'd see as he lay snapped like a twig were those ugly, swart faces gaping at him. The last thing he'd hear would be those foul voices and hoots and jeers as he cried out. They might even start to devour him before he had a chance to die.
Frodo groaned aloud and this brought on a great deal of jostling which made his teeth chatter and snap together. "Quiet you!" When he felt that his spine would finally snap from that brutal shaking they slowed down and the world spun around him. He blinked a few times, turning a horrid shade of green as his stomach swirled and his brain blurred. He fought hard to keep down the few foul things that remained in his stomach. That vile liquid would not taste any better on the way back up.
He slumped down, wearied by the blinding adrenaline rush as terror that shot through him and now he was aware of a terrible pain in the back of his neck his swirling brain could not register. Images blurred together if he turned his head too fast and exactly where he was and why, he could not work out. All he knew was his fear and that was not good. He let it take hold of him and drown him in its cold blackness. Panic and dread seized him like frozen hands and dragged him away from all sense and thought.
Suddenly he was dropped like a sack of filthy rags and he did not want to get back up again. He began to swoon but he was jostled again, this time so painfully that he was thrown back down and lifted up, just to be thrown back down again. They bloodied his lip in the process. The stone floor was hard, and cold as ice on his bare skin.
"Leave him and go!" came a powerful and clear voice. It rang like the sound of heartless metal striking cold stone.
Frodo heard the orcs stomp out and back down the stair, their large clumsy feet echoing further out of hearing. He slowly attempted to raise himself on shaking arms as he coughed a spurt of red haze. Oh, it all hurt!
"Did they hurt you, halfling?"
Frodo whimpered and nodded as if expecting his mother to come and heal his scrapes and bruises. He felt hot rage boiling before him ere any more words were uttered and he shrank back with a cry.
"I told those stupid beasts not to hurt you!" rang out the voice, now hot and burning into Frodo's flesh.
A hand snatched his jaw, rather roughly and drew his eyes upon a tall, statuesque man. He was taller than a normal man and his face was hard as stone. His eyes burned like brimstone and he strode like a mountain before Frodo who shrank even more into himself. The man's fierce gaze penetrated Frodo and his jagged features curled into a sneer. He was terrible to behold, wondrous in might. Frodo bowed his shoulders and trembled. Did he kneel before a god? Could he plead for aid and mercy?
"A god?" laughed the man as if he read Frodo's thoughts. "A Valar? Well that is kind of you, halfling, but I am no Vala. Nay, nor a Maia!"
"Would you grant me mercy?" pleaded Frodo.
"Aid and mercy is what you wish?"
"I am in your debt. You took those brutes away from me. I dare not think what they wanted to do with me." Frodo raised his head finally regaining his wits. After all he was, indeed, a wise and cunning hobbit.
The man's eyes bore into Frodo as if trying to read something that was not writ plainly on his face but buried deeper. The shadows on the walls seemed to drag out and reach towards Frodo's frail and bent form. The fire leapt in the man's eyes and Frodo looked up to perceive that he was laughing! The small hobbit shuddered, and once again had the feeling of helplessness.
"You have a strong mind, halfling! A very strong mind! Like the foundation of such a sturdy building, and all of you has been built upon it. This is good and a very strong trait. But I suppose that will make my job harder. You mistake my intentions for good. Aid and mercy!" his roaring laugh broiled up and then fell again. "No, little halfling, I am Lathian, Master of Torments, employed by Sauron if you will. You see all those captured are brought to me so that they may promptly be broken."
Frodo's eyes grew wide with fright and despair. Broken! He would surely be torn to pieces now! In his mind he heard his spine snapping, his wrists cracking, his legs splitting.
"You mistake me in your thoughts again, little one!" sniggered Lathian. "Or you've only got part of it correct. Yes I shall break your body, of that there is no doubt, but if it were only that you would be thankful. No," he laughed," I am afraid my job is to break you body, mind, and spirit."
Frodo cowered and felt his heart quail as the shadows loomed closer.
"But then what to do with you, I wonder. Sauron does not yet know of your capture, but in do time he will. Still..." Lathian pondered a moment. "Even in my power you would be of little use. You see once I break them Sauron recruits them, therefore for every captive we gain a slave. It is really quite genius! But you would be no good in war. I suppose Sauron would have little to do for you and let you die. You are a lucky scamp!"
Frodo glared at the man. He was now infuriated. Lucky! He wanted to tear him limb from limb!
Lathian laughed again, "Thinking of harming me now? Oh you are very funny, indeed! Would be a shame to be rid of you after all the work it will take to snap that foundation of yours. Perhaps I could keep you. You'd make a lovely slave, halfling. Just think," and at this Lathian leaned forward and purred into Frodo's ear as the hobbit cringed and grit his teeth, "when I am through with you - you will LOVE me!"
"You are mad! How do you see my thoughts?" Frodo demanded, fury boiling in his blood.
"You're a fighter. I like it. But like I said I am no Maia. I am Master of Torments. Lathian the Ruthless. The Black Wizard of Ruin! Your mind is not secret from me."
Frodo bit back a cry.
"Look at you now. Naked and helpless. Is that how you feel, little one?"
Frodo did nothing to answer. He stared coldly at the stone. He refused to break!
"Cold. Scared. That's what it will do to you. Slowly, painfully, break those strong barriers, that wonderful foundation you call a mind. You will slowly crumple. They all crumple. Elves, men, even halflings will bend to it. By tearing away your clothes I have exposed you to me. There is nothing keeping me from you now. And soon there will be nothing keeping me from your mind. You will be laid bare, little halfling. And if I see fit to give you clothes then you may have them. And you will thank me for them. You will be in my debt as you said you were. I control everything in your world now, halfling."
Frodo straightened himself and looked up proudly, "My name is-"
A stone, hard hand clapped around Frodo's mouth and he squeaked as his last word was muffled.
"Tut, tut," smiled Lathian. "You don't have a name. You are mine to call what I will. This will break you down as well, halfling. You will soon see the truth. Everything I say is right. I control the world. If you are glad it is because I made you glad. If you are warm it is because I have given you clothes. If you are full it is because I have given you food. But if you are in agony, little halfling, it is because of your own faults that I will soon fix. If you are cold and naked it is because you do not deserve clothes. If you are hungry it is because you are stupid. Be wise. Now to begin."
Without removing his monstrous hand, that clasped over Frodo's entire jaw and even his nose, Lathian lifted the hobbit and in on swift and jostling movement, carried him to the corner and shackled his ankles. Frodo collapsed to the ground, gasping for air.
Behind him Lathian was taking up, from a bed of coals, a whip with three leather thongs dangling from the rod. Upon the end of each was embedded a small iron plate now heated by the coals. He held the torture-device lovingly.
He gave Frodo a strong kick and the hobbit, gasped again, trying desperately to squeak out his name.
"Do you have a name?" said Lathian.
"Yes- it's-"
The whip rose and fell with a cruel crack and Frodo wailed out in agony. His rent flesh burned and throbbed.
"Do you have a name?" repeated Lathian, more strongly.
Frodo gulped, swallowing tears and pain, "Yes! Yes!"
Again all three thongs tore across the small, frail back. Frodo screeched and collapsed, panting and heaving.
"Do you have a name?" bellowed Lathian.
Frodo wept.
"Do you!?" The whip raised and awaited the answer.
"What else can I say! I know it to be true! Yes I have a name! I have one!"
Once. Twice. Three times the whip slashed into him. He arched his back. His voice grew hoarse with screams. His mind reeled. His eyes burned with tears as the world took to spinning again. He swayed and fell down again.
"Get up!" Lathian latched onto him and stood the wavering hobbit but he already began to swoon. "Do you have a name?!"
"Stop it! Stop this! Yes, yes! There is no more I can say! Yes! Stop! Please!"
"But I say you do not have a name!" The whip fell again and Frodo jerked in one wrenching wail. "And I am your master!" Again it tore across his torn and bleeding flesh. "Therefore it is true. You do not have a name. You never had a name. And you were always mine. You are mine. You have no name!" Three more times the metal plates dug into Frodo's back and burned into him.
"Do you have a name!"
"No! No! No!"
The whip paused in the air. Lathian latched his grip onto Frodo's jaw and the hobbit's half lidded eyes tried to focus on the blurring images. "That was stupid," he snarled in a low rumbling tone. "That was very stupid, halfling. You are lying. You still believe you have a name."
The whip fell again. Again. Again! The thongs were now stained red, dripping with Frodo's innocent blood. He was a sobbing, bleeding mess and he could do nothing.
"Now, please, do you have a name?" Lathian asked again, his voice sweet and polite.
"Yes! No! Yes! Whatever you want! You are master! You are master! Only please! Please stop the pain!"
The whip lowered. "You are learning well, halfling." He unshackled the mess before him and cradled Frodo like a child. The hobbit blubbered and sobbed into the man's arms.
How kind! Frodo thought. Lathian was protecting him. He was trying to teach him. Yes, it was Frodo's own stupidity that caused the pain. Lathian smiled inwardly. They were making progress.