Well, here you go!

And one last warning to those few who do not like torture, angst, or violence….

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Merry was awakened with a rough kick to the abdomen. He gasped, glancing around him. Wait…something was wrong. A huge orc stood before him, grinning wickedly. Merry hardly had time to gather his thoughts when he was hoisted to his feet. Suddenly Merry realized what was different. Usually, he and Pippin were wakened by Strider, with a gentle nudge or a quiet whisper. As Merry looked back to his sleeping place, he noticed that neither Strider nor Pippin were there. A panicky feeling started in his stomach.

He glanced back to where the orc was dragging him. The whole troupe of orcs was gathered around in a circle. Yells and jeers were coming from around the center. The orc shoved Merry to the front of the crowd and held his shoulders firmly. Merry gasped as he realized what was providing the orcs' entertainment.

Strider was on the edge of the crowd, on his feet and blindfolded. He was still bound, and Merry thought he could see his heavy coat lying in a dusty heap by the fire. With the full firelight, Merry could see the true extent of Strider's wounds.

The thin shirt that he had been wearing under his jacked was soaked with blood, and slashed in many places, showing various cuts and bruises. The arrow had carved out a larger gap in his shoulder, and a steady stream of blood was dribbling out. And the cut on Aragorn's arm was clearly badly infected- it was showing bright red and purple skin. And on top of it all, Aragorn was definitely sick and struggled for breath.

Merry watched, horrified, as Strider was pushed around the edges of the circle, sometimes with a punch, other times with a sword. More than once he thought he saw Aragorn's face clench in pain, then return to the grim blockade it put up. He knew that Strider could not take much more of this, and he prayed to everything he could think of for an interference, or anything that would stop the torment.

Suddenly his prayers were answered, though not in the way he had hoped. Ugluk stormed through the circle, and raised a huge hand. Instantly the orc's cries were silenced. Aragorn was pushed roughly before Ugluk, panting. The orcs forced him to his knees and he obeyed, struggling to regain his breath.

"All right, all right, enough of your fun." Ugluk shouted. There were groans and boos. "Now we must get to business." The cries started again, almost louder. "You," he nodded to the orcs holding Aragorn. "Get him ready." The two obeyed instantly. One of them held Aragorn's wrists while the other slowly ripped the fragment of shirt from his shoulders. When he got to the arrow, the orc yanked the rest of the shirt off, jarring the arrow and edicting a soft cry of pain from Strider. The other orc pulled out a dagger, and for a moment Merry was desperately afraid. He struggled against his bonds to get to Aragorn, but the orcs held him fast.

But the armed orc only sliced through the cords around Aragorn's wrists. But this was just as bad. Aragorn released another cry of pain as blood spurted from the deep cuts left from the too-tight ropes. The orcs seized his arms and stretched them apart, until Aragorn's bare back was facing Ugluk.

"Now, little imp, we will teach you why you don't try any tricks with us." For a moment Merry thought this was aimed at him, until he saw Uglluk facing the other way. There was Pippin! He was being held fast by his guards, but was still struggling, murmuring Aragorn's name. Pippin looked up, but instantly wished he hadn't.

Ugluk stepped forward and shook out a long whip. He brought it up to Pippin's nose, brandishing it like a prize.

"You see this, rat? You may think it's just a whip. But see? It has bits of old sword here and there, designed just for this purpose. Perhaps now you will learn to listen." He turned toward Aragorn and raised the whip.

"No!" Pippin shouted, but it was too late. Ugluk brought the whip down like lightning, and a second later there was a long, bloody stripe on Aragorn's back. He arched his back reflexively, and pulled at his captors, but he made no sound, and showed no emotion. Again Ugluk raised the whip, and again it came down. Still no reaction. Again, and again nothing. And again…

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Finally, at the ninth stroke, Ugluk generated a reaction. The whip struck horizontally, and one sharp end clawed the cut on Aragorn's arm. He cried out in pain, but instantly silenced it, closing his eyes briefly. From across the camp, Merry could hear Pippin's quiet sobs and pleas, and he found his own face wet.

At last, after the twelfth stroke, Ugluk lowered the whip. Aragorn's back was shining with blood, and his whole body was slumped over. Again Ugluk walked over to Pippin and seized his tearstained face in his huge hand.

"Let that be a lesson to you." Pippin did not reply, his eyes fixed on Aragorn's trembling form. Ugluk, looking sickly satisfied, signaled the orcs to release their hold on Strider's arms. He remained standing for a moment, perfectly balanced. But his weariness and blood loss overcame him at last, and he collapsed into a motionless heap on the ground.

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Well there you go! Angsty enough for you? Tell me in a REVIEW!

Oh, and I just realized that I forgot to email responses for the last chapter…To all of my wonderful reviewers, THANK YOU SO MUCH! YOU MAKE MY DAY!

And I may not be able to do responses this time, so thank you to i like muffins, fliewatuet, lindahoyland, Leif of Rohan, Ainu Laire, and Aragorn75! YAY!

See you next time!

QueenofFlarmphgal