A/N: This was inspired by Saetha's fic "Stuck in the middle with you" on AO3 which gave me the thought of exploring someone else's perspective on Talion's grisly fate. It's a fantastic but unflinchingly whumpy fic that explores Talion and Celebrimbor's relationship wonderfully and if you're okay with reading torture I highly recommend it.
They've captured the Gravewalker, Ratbag hears. It's something he hears a lot when rumour spreads like a morgai swarm in Mordor, sometimes true, more often than not the exaggerated boast of a grunt seeking glory or promotion.
But this time when Ratbag hears the news, he hears the screams to go with it.
The howling is something animal, raw agony ringing louder than even the jeers of the crowd that carry from the nearby fortress to echo in the vast caverns of Cirith Ungol. Not an uncommon sound when the Slaughter tribe takes prisoners, but the voice—agonized and desperate and human—is unmistakable.
Ratbag turns to the olog at his side. "They have the ranger."
The other Ranger looks back at him in stony silence.
"Well? We have to help him."
"Don't be a fool," Az-Harto says in Black Speech, and Ratbag only half-pretends to understand.
"He helped you, remember?"
There's normally little point in appealing to an olog's sense of decency, but Ranger has never been a typical olog. After a few beats he lets out a grunt and hefts his mace, giving a half-irritable wave that gestures Ratbag should lead the way.
Talion is still screaming when they come upon the fort. Weaker now, fading into whimpers when breath eludes him but his torment is too vicious to allow him true peace. The captains have made a spectacle of him in the courtyard, drawing the attention of a baying horde of orcs that pay no heed to the newcomers approaching from the back.
Ratbag can't see above the heads of the crowd. Az-Harto sees all too clearly.
It's a cruel punishment they've chosen. A lake of blood pools at the base of the stake that inch-by-inch pierces the ranger's body deeper with every feeble twitch of his broken limbs. By now more crimson stains the flagstones than must rightly remain in his body, and still silence doesn't fall.
Ratbag looks up and presses forward. "They're distracted. Maybe I could create another distraction while you sneak in from the side and pull the ranger out…"
He advances a pace before feeling the solid weight of Ranger's hand descend on his shoulder. "It is too late."
"He's still alive. We have to move quickly—" The sudden firmness of Ranger's grasp halts him from going any further. Ratbag yelps and blinks up at him.
"He is already dead," says Az-Harto bluntly. "They have shown him no mercy and he will show them none. The Bright Lord will have his revenge without our help."
"I won't just stand here and wait for him to die!"
Ranger cocks his head to the side and studies the uruk closely. "They call you Coward," he says, "They are wrong. But we must choose our battles wisely."
As the two stare at each other, Ratbag fumbling for comprehension of words he doesn't know yet intuition nonetheless imbues with meaning, another roar goes up from the crowd. Talion has choked his final gurgling breath. There's an initial burst of approving cheers and then a sudden mad swarm surges for pieces of the body.
The Bright Lord will be back. The torment of this particular death will not be forgotten.
Az-Harto drops his hand to Ratbag's back and turns him away before the fighting over Talion's corpse can begin.
