A/N: This is what happens when you spend an entire weekend listening to Nine Inch Nails CD's. Just a heads up for anyone else that wants to give that a shot.

Chapter 4

Faramir was suddenly awakened when his inert body was doused with a quantity of cold water. He was instantly aware that he was lying on his side upon the sodden ground, his wrists bound together behind him. He was yet surrounded by the orcs, but a new figure had also arrived, an uruk-hai that stood upright on two legs and carried a great, hooked sword in its massive grip. As it viciously kicked Faramir in the side, it spoke in Westron, in a cold, grating voice, "Get up, ranger."

The Man sighed, uncertain if he would be able to rise, but unwilling to betray his weakness to this foul creature, he struggled his way to his feet, ignoring the pain pulsing through his body, most especially his broken ankle.

"You are going to die, do you know that?" the uruk laughed mirthlessly, and Faramir shuddered inwardly at its cold tone, even as he dared to glare into its unnatural eyes. "But first you shall tell me all that you know about where the rest of your company of rangers is hiding."

"I will not."

"You are in no position to refuse, ranger."

"If I am to die anyway, then you should just kill me now, for I will not tell you anything, you foul, evil piece of filth!" Faramir spat just before the uruk hauled him off of his feet, slamming his bloodied back against a nearby tree trunk, the excruciating pain stealing the breath from his lungs. Tears welled in the ranger's eyes as the uruk ground the welts upon his back against the rough bark and held the edge of its sword to his throat.

"Answer me, and I shall kill you quickly, or defy me so that I can make your pain last for days. I would prefer to torture you, but the choice is yours."

"I shall tell you nothing," Faramir mumbled with courage that he did not wholly feel. The uruk chuckled in delight when it smelled the Man's fear. Tossing its sword aside, it ever so slowly wrapped its rough fingers about the ranger's throat and squeezed, the force of its hand growing stronger with each passing second. Faramir closed his eyes and let the agonizing feeling of the rough tree bark against the open wounds of his back wash over him, using the pain as an anchor to keep himself calm, but when he could no longer breathe, he felt nothing but terror within him.

He dropped to the ground as the uruk-hai suddenly released him. Gasping greedily for air even as he was being kicked without mercy in his already injured ribs, Faramir felt them slowly giving way. Then, lightning fast, the uruk jerked him upright with a tight grip around his throat that threatened to rob him of his consciousness. He could not stop himself finally from whimpering in fear when the uruk securely wrapped a length of rough rope about Faramir's already abused throat, and with a hideous chuckle, it threw the other end over a branch, yanking the ranger up into the tree.

There was nothing Faramir could do. He was utterly helpless in this creature's grasp, he knew, as his oxygen-starved body protested against this rough treatment by bucking uncontrollably. After what seemed like forever to the injured Man, the uruk released the rope, and Faramir landed upon the hard ground with a thud. The creature pulled him to him feet, loosening the rope about his throat, allowing him the luxury of breathing for a moment before it again asked him about his fellow rangers.

Still he refused to speak, hoping to anger the monster into killing him outright, but this uruk-hai showed extraordinary patience, and Faramir was pulled back into the tree, again and again, until he was nearly insensible, his consciousness caught somewhere between pain and numbness.

Boromir did the only thing that he knew to do. He sent forth a small company of rangers, who were on leave for a few days, who had been temporarily garrisoned at Minas Tirith while they waited replacements for their wounded and dead after a particularly brutal battle near Cair Andros. The company had not been overly-enthused by the prospect of combing Ithilien for a single ranger, but when Boromir explained whom the ranger was, they wholeheartedly agreed to help, wanting to aid their steward and his sons in any way possible.

It was with a heavy and anxious heart that Boromir saw them off at the Great Gate, forbidden to accompany them any further. He had given them explicit instructions to keep him well informed throughout their search and to search the forest thoroughly. No rest would come to him until he knew for certain of his little brother's fate. The commander of this company of rangers was called Captain Meneldil, and Boromir thought that he had seemed a very capable leader. The captain had bowed low before the steward's son and promised that he would do all within his power to see Faramir home safely.

As there were only twenty-three men now in his company, Captain Meneldil kept them all in a tight group after they passed through Osgiliath and crossed the River Anduin, and they watched the road carefully, hoping at least to catch sight of where Lieutenant Faramir might have lost his mount. Unfortunately, it had recently rained, and it appeared that many riders had passed upon the road since he had disappeared, and there was no sign of him. On a whim, the captain sent three of his men on to Henneth Annûn in hopes that Faramir might have returned there, and all of this trouble was just due to a misunderstanding. As for the rest of his men, he split them into two equal groups, one for each side of the road, and they began to spread out and search more thoroughly, keeping close enough that they could easily signal one another in case they encountered any trouble.

When it grew too dark to search, they camped upon the road itself, and the rangers stopped every traveler that came by, questioning them about a young lieutenant who had been riding a roan courier horse headed toward the White City. By morning, several people had gone by, but none had seen Faramir, though a few of them had reported seeing orcs to the north of the road.

Captain Meneldil rethought his original plan, and instead of searching both sides of the road, he decided that they would simply spread out and head in a northerly direction, grimly thinking that if the orcs had captured the steward's youngest son, he was likely dead by now.