The stone floor was a cruel bed. Snaga's body hurt from lying and sitting on the hard floor; he was constantly shifting and changing positions, trying to find a way to lay down that was comfortable. Being alone with his thoughts was miserable. Thank god he had at least been fed. The bread was a strange elvish food, he hated it but he was starving so he ate it anyway. But more importantly, he was finally given water. He drank all of it; he could at least be thankful that his tormentors were merciful enough to give him plenty of water.
He had nothing to do all day but worry and wonder about what his captors would do to him next. He had given them everything they wanted, he told them everything he knew. Would they still torture him? Do elves make cruel sport out of their prisoners too? Snaga knew exactly how orcs would deal with a prisoner who was of no more use, but as for elves he couldn't be sure. There was still a lingering possibility in his mind that he would die by method of "Gelmir's revenge".
Truthfully, Snaga was merely hoping to be disposed of quickly and not too painfully. He hoped they would slash his throat, same as they had done to Grishnak. As far as he was concerned, that was the best way to go. Snaga had seen enough botched beheadings and protracted hangings in his lifetime to make him believe that a knife to one's throat is as merciful a death as can possibly be had.
As Snaga shifted on the floor, with each miserable hour dragging by slowly, he lost track of time. He thought it may have been late evening or night when his door was opened and the elf and man captain stepped in his cell.
The elf spoke first; "You said the garrison at Barad Mendolin is greatly reduced, did you not?" The Captain asked. That deep and masculine voice was enough to strike fear in Snaga and send shivers down his spine.
"Yes," He answered, barely above a whisper.
"And that they've been ravished by disease, many of them dying off, is that correct?"
"Yes," He uttered again in a barely audible voice.
"How many did you say remain? How many are at Barad Mendolin now?"
Snaga gulped before answering. "Less than a hundred."
"Are you certain of this?"
"I'm certain." He said, trying his best to give a confident answer despite his voice shaking.
"You're certain because you heard your master say so?" The elf clarified.
"Yes," Snaga nodded.
The elf captain unsheathed his sword and moved several paces towards the cowering orc. Snaga backed away further into the corner. What had he done wrong? When the captain raised his sword and pressed the tip into his breast, Snaga thought that surely this was the execution he'd been waiting for.
"Do you swear, on everything that you hold dear, that everything you've told me is true?"
There wasn't anything that Snaga "held dear", but he nodded his head and said "Yes, I swear it."
"Good then." The elf sheathed his sword and turned to the Gondorian captain.
"We'll make the announcement tomorrow."
And with that they both turned to leave. The Gondorian captain gave Snaga a glaring look before he shut the door behind him.
