A/N – This story is not quite accurate with the injuries reported by Tolkien that were inflicted upon Frodo. I realize that this story implies much greater injury then actually occurred. Don't bother telling me this in a review.
Disclaimer: I don't own Lord of the Rings, The Silmarillion, or the Hobbit.
The Horrors of Cirith Ungol
Chapter 1
A pale face, accentuated by the surrounding darkness, lay on the cold damp stones of the floor. From the outside, the tower the broken creature lay in was a thing of shadows and evil, twisted like the creatures who occupied it, a slave to its master's will.
The inside was a thing of horror. The room in which the small hobbit occupied was reminiscent of dungeon, chains hanging from the walls, bones littering the clammy floor. Gloom seemed to cling to every corner, etching its misery firmly in one's mind.
The occupant himself seemed to match his surroundings. He lay quite still, brown bedraggled curls framing his careworn face, his lack of movement only interrupted by an occasional jerk of his hand towards his breast, grasping at something that was not there, something he needed, something he craved.
Occasional unrest crept upon him, a moan, a fear, but he stayed in his slumber, for a time at rest from his sorrows in the darkness, unaware of his surroundings. Not long was he to be left at peace.
A trapdoor in the ground opened, and a hideous creature known as an orc entered, clutching a thickly braided and menacing cat-o-nine-tails. A thing of evil the orc was, twisted, tortured and altogether malicious, one who pleasures in the suffering of others. It walked on two legs like a man or elf, but in other ways it did not represent them at all.
Warty boiled skin seemed to coil around his flesh, narrow eyes squinted from its distorted face, eyes with a warped sense of pleasure, or rather one who is anticipating it. Followed by this repulsive creature were several other such beings, all servants of the same enemy, slaves.
They all surrounded the sleeping form of the sleeping hobbit. One of the creatures smirked. "Well Gorbag, looks as though we got ourselves a nice catch", he said, his voice a self pleased growl. "Lugburz'll be pleased with this, very pleased…" Gorbag cackled. "Indeed we have Shagrat. We'll be havin' some fun, won't we lads?" he asked the other three, orcs occupying the room, all of whom nodded their agreement, sadistic grins etched in their foul features.
"You and your lads can have your fun, but if he's missing any limbs…" warned Shagrat, and Gorbag snorted. "He'll have all his limbs alright, not that he'll have much else." Shagrat growled. "You know Lugburz's orders, he'd better be in one peace., that's all I'm saying." Gorbag muttered something unintelligible, then said in a slightly clearer voice, "well we better get on with this. Let's strip 'im lads." Shagrat gestured his accord, then added in his harsh tones "better wake the little rat up first." The three lesser orcs set to this task with great relish, forcing a bottle into his mouth.
Darkness… Blissful darkness… Frodo was awakened from his unconscious state by a foul tasting liquid being poured down his throat. Coughing and sputtering, his haunted blue eyes opened and widened, taking in his surroundings. Desperately, he tried sit up, but was forced back down by a sudden heaviness in his head.
Around him, orcs chuckled. Two of them seized him by the shoulders and hauled him up, pinning him against the cold wall. Struggling uselessly against their grip, the hobbit, still weakened by the spider poison, clawed desperately at his chest, searching for the ring fruitlessly.
A/N – Reviews are appreciated, they assist me in my writing. Flamers are also appreciated if they have constructive criticism.