Hey there! Thank you for my lovely reviews for the last chapter! I'm sorry we're a day late, I've been very busy again. As ever, please forgive my typos, and I hope that you enjoy.

Chapter Fifty-Five: The Second Interrogation

As it turned out, being the political prisoner of an evil wizard in the middle of a war that might end the earth was truly, incredibly, boring.

Bróin had woken to pale sunlight, creeping into their cell through a slit of a window that was set high above their heads. Dust had danced in the beams that fell on the black, iron bars of the door, and Bróin had found Nelly still asleep, with her arms still around him. Her head had cut off the circulation to his arm, which had begun to fall asleep, but Bróin had no desire to move or wake her.

Looking around, he had properly taken in the cell for the first time – though he and Nelly had slept on the floor, there were two benches that hung from chains on the wall, big enough for a small Man to use as a bed. If there were indeed two Menfolk kept in here, Bróin suspected that it would feel very small indeed, but it was not so bad for a dwarf and a dwobbit. By the base of one of the beds, nearer to the door, there was a small hole in the ground for a privy. He was glad it was not just a bucket.

But that was it – the extent of what was in the cell, of what he could see. And boredom began creeping into his heart, creeping into the place where his fear had been. It was eased a little when Nelly woke, and they talked, but they could not speak much without the conversation rolling around to their fears, and neither wanted to talk about that. So their talk faltered, and the boredom grew stronger around them.

It was not even eased much when the orcs arrived that morning. They forced more of their draught down Bróin's throat, and rubbed it into his arm until the swelling went down, and he could no longer feel the pain of the break. But then they just threw in another stale bread roll and another mug of water, and left again. Left them alone, to their boredom.

They stood, and stretched a little, pacing the small cell and attempting to massage some life into their aching limbs, but when Bróin winced a little, Nelly made him sit back down, and in her knee-length rag of a tunic, she did not seem up for any gymnastics, either. Instead, they settled back down on their spot of floor, and studied the locks keeping them chained down. They murmured about picking them, as though they thought there was any chance of doing so without tools.

As the day waned, Bróin tried passing time with stories of battle and old fairy-tales, but they were all stories that Nelly had heard a hundred times before, and he had no story she did not know. She meandered towards the path of memory, speaking of better times, but it just made Bróin feel worse, and he held his tongue until she got the message, and stopped speaking.

Of course, boredom was certainly preferable to torture, but as night bled darkness into their cell and the uruk-hai forced their medicine on him again, Bróin thought that it was not that much better.

The night grew colder than he expected it to, and Nelly shivered even beneath the elven cloak. They huddled close together, and Bróin heard the smattering of rain outside, and watched its shadow pass over the thin patch of paler ground, where the moonlight came through the window. He could smell it outside, the earthy smell of fallen rain, but it was coupled with smells of burning and oil and blood and filth – of refuse and waste and death.

Hoping that he might perhaps find some solace – or entertainment – in dreams, Bróin closed his eyes, and let himself drift to sleep, but he woke again come morning with no recollection of any dream. No dream other than the nightmare they were in.

The uruk-hai visited again, as they had the previous morning, and again they forced their draught down Bróin's throat, and slathered his arm in their balm. Again, the medicines burnt, and healed as they went, and he found that there was no longer so much as an ache in his arm. Not even a twinge. The last time he had broken it, it had taken months to fully heal, and weeks to reach such a definite lack of pain.

He stared at his arm as the uruk-hai left wordlessly, and Nelly frowned a little, taking it delicately in her hands. Her fingers were cold against his skin, very cold, and he glanced at her. Her skin was an odd shade of pale grey, and there were heavy rings around her eyes.

"You alright?" he murmured, and she glanced up at him, narrowing her eyes slightly in confusion.

"I'm fine," she said, shaking her head a little. She looked back at his arm, and gently ran her fingers over the place where the bruising had been, brushing her thumb across the break in the bone. "How's your arm? It looks good – less inflamed, less… broken. I can't feel anything wrong."

Bróin laughed a little. "Yeah, it feels better to me to. But I can't imagine how – if those swords didn't break it, falling onto those steps and being hung up like a butchered carcass did the trick. But I feel like I could stand on my hands if I have to, I – I have full function -" he clenched and unclenched his fists, wiggling his fingers to prove the point, "-I just, don't know how…"

"He's a wizard, Bro," she said, almost chidingly. "Just because he's an evil one doesn't mean he doesn't know how to heal. You must be more useful to him in one piece."

Bróin shrugged, staring down at his arm, and her fingers. "Must be my dashing good looks."

Nelly gave a half smile. "Or your papa. You're worth a pretty ransom, Bróin."

"Even though I'm not a halfling?" he teased, but she grew even paler, and he took her hand. "Nelly?"

"So – he knows, now," she said slowly, refusing to meet Bróin's eyes. "He knows that I don't have it, that I'm not the Ringbearer – that's what he wanted hobbits for. But he knows I don't have it, so what use am I? Yes, my parents are lords, but they don't have money, not like your Papa does."

Bróin felt as cold as Nelly's hands, and he squeezed them. "Hey, don't be an idiot, Nelly. Ada would pay you out of here in a heartbeat, Thorin would, they all would-"

"I know," interrupted Nelly gently, smiling weakly at him. "But Saruman doesn't."

Bróin swallowed, and then sighed, and wrapped his arm around her shoulders and held her close. "That why you're so pale?"

She shrugged, resting her head on his shoulder. "I think I'm just hungry. And tired."

"Shall I save you some of that draught, next time?"

"Ew!" Nelly laughed, digging Bróin in the ribs. "What would you do, spit it out at me? That's disgusting, Bróin."

Bróin laughed too, holding her a little tighter. "You'll be alright, Nell. I've got you."

"I've got you right back," she said, squeezing his arm. "Are you sure you're not in pain? It looked pretty bad, for a while."

"I don't know what's in that damned drink, but I feel fine," said Bróin honestly. "A little achy, but there's little pain. What about you? Are you sure you're just hungry and tired?"

She nodded. "And bored."

"Me too."

"D'you reckon if I stood on your shoulders, we could look out the window?"

"Of course," said Bróin, lifting his chained foot into the air. "If we didn't have these."

She nodded slowly, and then paused, looking sharply at him. Her tears twitched, and Bróin listened carefully. Footsteps. Soft, deliberate – not the tramping of orcs. Bróin took a deep breath and steadied himself, wiping his face of emotions the best he could.

And Saruman appeared at their door, and Bróin took back his thoughts about torture being only a little worse than boredom. He stiffened and tried to disguise his fear by drawing back his shoulders, raising his chin.

"You will stand when I address you," said Saruman coldly, and out of the corner of his eye, Bróin saw Nelly nod a fraction. They rose together, and stood together, side by side, still as stone. "I have come for more information. And to deliver some information to you."

Bróin longed to look at Nelly, but he did not, keeping his face impassive and his silence sure. Neither of them moved, or spoke, and Saruman gave a cold sneer.

"Well, aren't you both brave?" he said, the shadows of the bars falling over his face. "For a pair of half-grown scum from a tiny mountain. It should please you, Bróin, son of Bombur, that my envoy is on the way to your father as we speak. The terms are set, and if they are met, you may be free in as little as a month, off to scuttle back home. If they are not, you shall still be reunited with your father, do not fear. I will send him your head."

Bróin fought back a shudder, and he could see Nelly tensing out of the corner of his eyes. Saruman turned to her, and his smile grew colder.

"Does that comfort you? His end will be brief, after all, if it comes from my hands, and if my generous offers are refused, I will know that you are little use to me either. But, there is another way. You do not have to fester here, in these dungeons, unless it is your wish. If you give me the information that I want, you may help to build a great alliance between Isengard and Erebor, and when the world turns, and the war is won, you will be rewarded."

"I do not think our tiny mountain would be partial to such an alliance with a traitor, thank you," said Bróin politely, glaring at Saruman.

The wizard glared back, fury flickering in his eyes, and Nelly's hand wrapped around Bróin's protectively. Saruman spoke in a voice like ice, sharp and cold and clear as glass. "Very well – in that case I shall tell you that nothing you say here, no lie you spin or truth you twist, will be able to save Bilbo Baggins. I have sent five hundred uruk-hai north through the mountains, a mere fraction of my army. They will catch the ring-bearer ere he reaches the mountain. There is nowhere that can shelter him, for the orcs of Dol Guldur and Gundabad are ravaging the northern lands as we speak."

"You won't catch him," said Nelly sharply. "It's four hundred miles to the High Pass – if that is even the path he took – and by the time your uruks get there, Bilbo will be long gone."

Saruman's smile returned. "That may be true, for most. But I know that Baggins took the High Pass – Caradhras is too treacherous in winter, and there was no way through Moria for them. I have guards at the Gap of Rohan, but they have seen nothing. And reaching him in time – well. It is impossible for most folk, but not for Saruman, the Great. My wargs ride thrice as far as a wolf can in a day, twice as far as the wargs of Mordor, and they feel no pain or fear. I have forged a path through the mountains that will speed my army on. It will take them no more than five days to reach the lands of the Beornings. In less than a week, it will be over. They will catch them, and slaughter all there, save Baggins, and any other hobbits they find. And then you may see your precious Bilbo, and what fate I have instore for him."

Bróin had to fight to stop his jaw from dropping. Five hundred uruk-hai? Five hundred? Against a group so small, against a pregnant Dís? Saruman had to be lying, there was no way that five hundred orcs could travel so far in so short a time. He had to be lying, or…

Or Bilbo was in big trouble.

"I don't believe you," said Nelly, and her voice was like stone. "I know of no way such a thing can be done. I think you are a liar."

Saruman raised his eyebrows, but he looked far too pleased with himself for Bróin to trust to Nelly's logic.

"You think I am a liar?" said Saruman, stepping up close to the bars. Nelly and Bróin both stepped back, and Saruman gave a soft laugh. "Perhaps I am, perhaps I am not. But I am the most powerful wizard in Middle-Earth, and I have given haste to my army through spells even Gandalf could not imagine."

Anger flared in Bróin, and he narrowed his eyes. "Gandalf was ten times the wizard you will ever be, and he was no traitor!"

"Have you any proof, for either point?" asked Saruman lazily. "What great feats of magic did you witness? And how many times has he left your people in times of need, when he has not had need of you?"

"He banished the Nazgûl," replied Nelly, her chin rising higher. Bróin glanced at her for half a second, and saw sheer fury blazing in her eyes. "And he healed a dwarf who had been stabbed in the neck with a Morgul blade."

"And you think I could not do those things? You are a fool – my powers stretch far beyond such petty matters, though I do not expect you to understand. You are, of course, no more than a girl. A naïve, silly little girl, who wandered too far from home. But we are not here to talk of Gandalf. You are going to tell me about Erebor, and its defences."

Nelly gave a laugh, as cold as the wizard's. "What would a silly little girl know about that?"

"How big is the royal army?" said Saruman, almost lazily. He seemed so sure that they would give him answers, and it boiled Bróin's blood.

"You will never bring down Erebor," he snarled. "The walls are stronger than ever before, its defences are second to none, and-"

"A work in progress," said Saruman. "Twenty years is a pittance of time to form defences for a city as large as Erebor, even for dwarves. But I have no intention of launching a full assault. That shall be the province of Mordor, and their hoards will fall upon the mountain like storm waves on sandstone. The city will enter a siege longer than even the dwarves can endure, and eventually, the armies of Mordor will break in. Yet there are other ways to gain control over that mountain. How big is their army?"

"Well," said Bróin, his voice shaking as he tried to bridle his rage. "There's definitely more than two soldiers, and I think less than a million."

Nelly began to snicker, but Saruman pushed his staff through the bars and Bróin gasped, jumping back and pressing himself against the back wall. Silent as death, Nelly backed away with him, her eyes flickering between the wizard and the dwarf. Bróin's own eyes were trained on the staff, and it hovered a foot or so from his chest. It would reach him if Saruman wanted to, and he knew it.

And he knew what pain it would bring.

"You will answer my questions," said Saruman, and it seemed like the whole cell was growing dark, "or you will suffer the consequences. I know how unlikely dwarven scum are to bend the knee, and I have not ruled out sending Thorin Oakenshield this little halfling's head to persuade him to agree to my demands."

Bróin's blood ran cold, and he tore his eyes away from the staff to stand in front of Nelly, even as she whispered frantically to him to stop.

"You're going to get yourself killed, Bróin-"

"You touch her, and I'll kill you," swore Bróin. "Don't touch her, don't even think about it."

"Then answer my question," said Saruman. "How big is the army of Erebor?"

"I don't know," said Bróin hopelessly, his eyes returning to the staff. It was nearer now, only inches away from him, and his hands were beginning to shake. Saruman moved it closer, but Nelly grabbed Bróin and yanked him backwards so that he was pressed against the wall again. He swallowed, and spoke again. "Really, I do not. My best guess would be a couple of thousand, five thousand, perhaps? I don't know."

"How many dwarves like in the mountain, would you guess?" said Saruman, and Bróin shook his head, looking desperately at Nelly.

"We don't know," she said, wincing as the staff moved further into the cell. "Really, truly, we don't know. Maybe twenty thousand? Maybe more, maybe less, I don't know. I don't know how many hobbits there are in the Shire, how many Men live in Dale – I don't know."

"Very well," said Saruman. "Here is something you will know. Who are Thorin Oakenshield's most trusted lords and advisors?"

Bróin's eyes widened, and he glanced at Nelly. His fear was reflected on of her face, and she shook her head a fraction. Bróin looked back at Saruman. If he told, if he gave a single name, he was putting his family at risk. Swallowing, Bróin closed his eyes, shook his head, preparing for the pain to come.

And then Nelly screamed, a sound that wreaked through Bróin's soul and set his heart on fire. His eyes flew open and he saw Saruman's staff against her chest, saw her cringe against the wall as her fingers and toes curled up, and her eyes rolled up in her head.

"Stop!" he yelped, throwing himself on the staff and trying to move it, but it burnt like molten metal and he could not get a hold of it.

Desperate, he grabbed Nelly instead, trying to pull her away, but she screamed when he touched her, and Saruman kept his staff in place, twisting it viciously. Nelly's neck arched back, and her screams were choked by whimpers.

"Stop it, please, please, stop, don't, stop it!" Bróin cried.

"Tell me," snarled Saruman through gritted teeth, twisting his staff once more. Nelly started to shake, and Bróin broke.

"The Company!" he yelled, "The Company he took on the quest; my father and uncles, and Balin and Dwalin, Nori, Dori, and Ori, and Óin and Glóin and Fíli and Kíli and Bilbo – and Dís, he trusts he family over everyone else, let her go, please, stop-"

"Who else?" pressed Saruman, and Nelly whimpered.

Bróin's head swam and he tried desperately to think of who else Thorin spoke to – but he did not know, not in a political sense. He only knew those Thorin was friends with, those he spoke of at home, or brought often to the Company Room. "I don't know, Lord Ragan, Lady Svana, Lord Joren and Lady Thora, uh, Dain, and – um, Lord Arnor, and Lord Jari, and uh Dastan, uh, maybe – I don't know, I don't know who else he trusts, who he listens to, but those are his friends, that's as best I know, please, please, that's the best I can guess, I mean it, I'm telling the truth, I swear, please stop hurting her!"

Saruman removed the staff and Nelly gasped, tumbling forwards, but before Bróin could catch her, the wizard had pushed her back up with the damned weapon. Frantic and furious, Bróin spared half a glance to Saruman, who was looking very pleased with himself, before grabbing Nelly's arm. She was sweating and pale, and shivering as though a bucket of ice water had been dropped over her head. Slowly, her eyes rolled up to meet his, and they were filled with tears.

"Are any of those people with Bilbo Baggins now?" asked Saruman.

"Some of them," replied Bróin miserably, looking away from Nelly, and from Saruman. He had never thought of himself as a traitor before, and knowing that he was doing his kin and kingdom harm was making him sick.

"Who?"

"Several of them, 's far as I know," Bróin said, hanging his head. His stomach churned at his treachery, but his hands were tied. He could not let the bastard hurt Nelly. Not again. "Bofur and Bifur, and Nori and Ori, too, and-"

"Don't," croaked Nelly, shaking her head even as a tear trailed down her cheek. "Bróin, don't-"

"Fíli and Kíli," Bróin whispered, feeling his own tears hot in his eyes. "And, Dís."

Saruman grinned, and Bróin wanted to be sick. "The king's nephews and sister."

"Yes."

Nelly groaned, and Saruman gave a cold laugh. "Perfect. Now, I wish to know about the Shire. What defences have they there?"

"Don't, Bróin-"

Bróin closed his mouth, but Saruman moved forward, and he cried out, "None! They have no formal army, no weapons, no training, they are not part of this, they've never hurt anyone!"

"And how many dwarflings are currently hiding there?"

Never had Bróin's blood run so cold. If he spoke, he would be giving up Orla and Ola and Bodin, he would be betraying his own little siblings to this murderer – but if he stayed silent, Nelly would be tortured, even killed. He could not lie – he knew what would happen if he was caught – but he had to do something. In his mind, he could see the sword coming down to sever Nelly's head, he could see Bodin and the twins ripped from their beds –

They were just little kids.

"None," he whispered, and his voice sounded as though a cheese grater had been shoved down his throat. "None, they'll've been taken to the Blue Mountains for safe keeping."

Saruman narrowed his eyes, staring at Bróin. "Who will have been?"

"My sisters," said Bróin, his voice breaking, "my little brother. They'll be in the Blue Mountains by now. But they were in the Shire. How did you know they were ever there?"

Saruman stared at Bróin as though he was an idiot, a mindless man to be pitied. "When nobles of 'great' kingdoms traverse across the world, they are watched. My people in Bree rode straight to Isengard whence you left it on the way to Rivendell, and they reported that in your haste, you seemed to have left several dwarflings behind. That you lacked the same number of hobbits that you left with was inconsequential – it was the absence of dwarves that surprised me. And excited me. For it even a fool would realise that they had been kept behind, kept behind to be 'safe' – but you know full well your Shire is not safe. It will bow, or it will burn. We shall soon see if your siblings were taken to the mountain. If you are lying, you will see them soon enough."

The wizard flung more questions at them, questions about the inner workings of the Shire, and of Erebor, and questions about the routes they thought Bilbo might take. They answered as dishonestly as they could, dancing around the truth and slipping in lies when there was less chance of getting caught, and much of what they said was easy enough to learn outside of the Mountain.

But Bróin's guilt grew worse and worse, and when Saruman removed his staff from the cells and tossed them a bread-roll, Bróin pressed the food into Nelly's hands and staggered to the toilet hole.

"Bróin are you- oh Mahal!"

He felt Nelly's cold hands pulling his hair back as he vomited, his disgust at himself growing stronger at the sign of weakness. He gagged, and Nelly made a gentle humming noise, rubbing his back.

"It's alright, Bróin, there you go, get it all out."

He could tell that she was holding her nose, and his gut twisted again. He threw up until his stomach was empty, and then coughed, and Nelly gently pulled him upright.

"Breathe," she murmured, putting a hand on his cheek. "There we go. Come on, let's sit down. We've got some thinking to do."

"I'm sorry," Bróin whispered hoarsely, "I'm so sorry, Nelly, I-"

"Did what you had to," she said gently, though her eyes were dull and hopeless as she led him down onto the floor. "You did what I did, the other day."

"It's awful," he said, a bitter taste in his mouth. "I – I always thought that if I got captured, I'd keep my silence until I died."

"And I think that if it was you that they had been hurting, you would have done," said Nelly, "I think they know that. Did you hear what that orc, Mauhúr, said to Saruman, when he was going to take you away? What he said in the Black Speech?"

Bróin paused, and tried to think. He and Nelly each knew a little of the vulgar tongue of Mordor – Nori thought it important to know what your enemy was saying – but there were so many dialects, and when Mauhúr had been speaking, Bróin had not been paying enough attention to notice his words. He shook his head.

"Did you understand it?" he said.

She nodded, meeting his eyes. "He said 'When he bleeds, she screams.' Saruman knew from then that it was the best way to make us talk."

"They're not in the Blue Mountains," Bróin said, tears finally spilling from his eyes, "Nelly, they're just children, and Dís and Bilbo and – what have we done? What have we done?"

Nelly wrapped her arms around him, snuggling into his side. "What we've had to do. We're family, Bróin. Family. If anything happened to you…"

Bróin shuddered, but he was not thinking of his own fate. His mind was stuck on Nelly, on Nelly screaming, writhing against the wall and –

"Are you alright? He hurt you, he hurt you badly and-"

"No worse than he hurt you," she promised. "I don't feel anything, now. I'm alright."

Bróin glanced around, and snatched the bread roll from where Nelly had left it on the bed. He pressed it into her hands. "Eat that. I don't want it, and you need it." He gently pocked her cheek before she could protest. "There's supposed to be hills, not craters."

Nelly rolled her eyes and batted his hand away. "I'll give you a crater of your own to worry about in a minute, Bro. Honestly…"

But she began to eat the bread, and that was all that mattered.

"I'm a traitor," said Bróin dully, staring at the fading patch of light on the ground.

"No, you're an idiot," Nelly chided. "Here. You should eat some."

His stomach clenched, and Bróin shook his head, pushing away the crust Nelly offered. "I don't think that's a good idea, Nell."

"Are you sure?"

He nodded, and she stared into his eyes for a moment to make sure that he was serious, before finishing the food. Then, she clapped her hands down on her knees.

"So, we need to get out of here. Any ideas for a plan?"

Bróin shrugged. "Wait until we're skinny enough to slither out of that window?"

Nelly paused as if considering this. "I believe that would be a rather miserable way of doing things. Now, if you could figure out how to transform into a mouse, you could run through the bars and bring back the key."

"Why would I be the one to turn into a mouse?" frowned Bróin, though he could feel the twitch of a smile coming into play. "You're smaller."

"Yes, but I'm faster. You need the added edge of mouse speediness."

Bróin laughed, pushing her shoulder gently, and they began to talk. Their plans grew steadily crazier and wilder, with feats of magic and strength and wit, and slowly, Bróin began to feel a little better.

There was always a chance to restore honour, Nori said. Bróin hoped that it was true.

If they could escape, he could make it true. His guilt lingered, but he did not feel regret. Nor for saving Nelly. They would get out, they would make up for it. And yes, for now their plans were ludicrous. But every so often, they came across a note they could use, a single morsel of information that might help, and they stored them away for later use.

When sleep finally took Bróin that night, he dreamt of their plans in action, and he woke with a smile on his face, and the memory of taking down Isengard on the back of a flying, fire-breathing sheep.

I hope that you enjoyed that chapter! It may not seem like much plot progression was going on, but it's setting up for things to come. Please do let me know what you think, I really appreciate the feedback.