I do not own Lord of the Rings, or any of Tolkien's characters. Any characters and plot lines I create are mine.

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Chapter 4: The Prisoner

Azruphel rarely met other people. Khamûl, on a few occasions, had taken her riding near Osgiliath and through some parts of Ithilien, but that was pretty much it. She had watched the people of Gondor from a distance, and generally respected them for their skills. She was yet to fight a man, but she had heard from the orcs that men from Gondor were slightly stupid. This was all the knowledge she had when she finally met the prisoner.

Going by appearances, Azruphel had to agree with the orcs on this man. The dark hair was becoming matted. His clothes, which the orcs had stripped down to the bare minimum, were worn, patched, and needed repair in some places. He was dirty, and looked like he had not bathed in weeks. The only seemingly intelligent part of him was his eyes, a shade of grey which locked onto her own light blue eyes. For an instant, Azruphel thought she saw them widen with surprise before the man lowered his gaze once more. Azruphel's eyes swept over the man a second time, seeing both old and new wounds. This man had clearly seen battle before, and judging by the fact that his back seemed to be bleeding, the orcs decided to have their fun on the journey to Minas Morgul.

Azruphel had never led an interrogation before, though she had seen the orc attempt many times. It would not work on this man, who had not said a word since his capture. Therefore, she was surprised when the man spoke up from his dark corner.

"If you are here for information, may I suggest you start by asking questions?"

Azruphel normally did not deal with disrespect, but surprised even herself when she slipped into what Uvatha called the negotiator mode by responding, "I'm contemplating."

"Contemplating. What would you have to contemplate?"

"You."

The man chuckled. "I was going for a less obvious response. Though I must say I am surprised that a woman has been sent as the interrogator."

"Clearly you do not respond to the orc method of physical, judging by the state of your back," Azruphel said with a smile. "You have a name?"

"Normally one does not see a human in Mordor, especially in Minas Morgul. Do you have a name?"

Azruphel laughed. "Asking me questions is not going to change the subject. I asked for yours."

"You aren't an Easterling, and clearly not from Harad. Normally I would say you are Rohirrim, but they are not allied with Sauron."

Azruphel considered the man once more. She definitely was qualifying him as intelligent now. Most people would not look at her and think of her as Rohirrim, but even in the dark room he had picked up on it. Her hair, while darker than the average blond still contained a trace of the golden streaks, combined with her lighter eyes gave hints of the Rohirrim, at least as far as Azruphel was aware. It was yet another reason why Azruphel suspected Uvatha as her father, seeing his skill with horses, as well as her own, as a sign that they were related to the horse masters. She took a moment to consider before responding, "I am part Rohirrim."

The man nodded. "I have many names," he said. "But to most people, I am called Strider. Now, what do people call you?"

"I am here to learn about you, not the other way around. You are from the North." This was not a question.

"I am still waiting on a name," the man said.

Azruphel considered the situation. There was not much he could do with a name, however seeing that the man could not have given his real name, Azruphel would not give hers. "Shaataz."

Strider raised his eyebrows. "Is that your real name?" he asked.

"No," Azruphel responded, "but Strider is not your real name, either."

"That is fair."

Strider was being agreeable. It raised Azruphel's hopes. Perhaps she would be able to persuade him to talk without much effort. "Why were you near Mordor, Strider?" she asked.

"That is none of your concern."

"Oh, but it is. This is my home, and I will protect it."

"That is interesting. What do you know about, 'your home,' as you put it?" Strider asked. Azruphel was surprised and angered by the statement. How dare that man try to insult her intelligence and Mordor.

"And what would you know about it?"

"I know many things. Dark things."

"Well, I know nothing 'dark' about my home."

"Perhaps you do not see the dark. Perspective is everything. Do you have a family in Mordor?"

"So what if I do?"

Strider smiled as he said, "Family determines much. Look at where you are. You are standing in a dungeon with a prisoner, all alone. And it seems your prisoner is asking more questions than you are. What has that family been teaching you?

"What about it?"

"I do not mean to insult, but when I was around your age, I considered hunting, not interrogating, to be enjoyable."

"Let's look at you for a moment, shall we? Worn clothing, several layers of it from what I can see," Azruphel said, referring to the pile of Strider's things sitting in the corner. "You come from the North but you are traveling here, not near other people but alone and near Mordor. Everything you have you seem to just carry with you. Most people would be begging for mercy here but not you, you have fear but it is not of death. From that, all I can say about you is that you do not have a family to go to."

Anger flashed for a second in the grey eyes but he then calmed down. "You know nothing of family."

"Try me."

Strider paused, and took a deep breath. "Would you do anything for your family?"

"I would."

"Would your family do anything for you?"

Azruphel was about to respond when she stopped, mouth open, the affirmation hanging on her tongue. The truth was, she did not know the answer to that last statement.

"I though so," Strider said with a grim smile, before turning around and refusing to speak the rest of the day.

***Azruphel***

Later that day Er-Murazor pulled Azruphel aside and asked her what the prisoner had said.

"Just a fake name and responses aimed to change the subject before I got silence," Azruphel responded.

"But he did speak? This is a good sign. You may need to change tactics to get information, but good job."

Good job? He never says 'good job' to anyone, Azruphel thought. Khamûl, who had been watching, smiled at her. This brought up memories of Strider and their discussion on family. Would she do anything for Khamûl? She always assumed that she would, but would Khamûl do anything for her? As soon as the thought entered her mind, she was assaulted by memories.

The rough hand of the orc on the back of her head. Bucket of water in front of her. Screaming for Khamûl, but he was not there.

Azruphel shook off the memory. That was a long time ago. She took off running, and did not stop until she collapsed on a huge door, panting. Looking around, she noticed she was near Dushtala's stall, and the flying steed was staring at her.

"Want to go flying?" she asked Dushtala in black speech. Azruphel did not bother with a saddle, instead simply leaping on him and taking off. She needed air, and there was no better way to do that than to go for a flight. Dushtala could cover a huge distance in a short time. The farthest she had ever taken him was to Emyn Muil so she could explore it, but if she wanted to be back in Minas Morgul before morning, she would need to stay nearby. Therefore she just circled in the clouds for a while, taking in the cool night breeze. After a while, she landed Dushtala on a cliff overlooking the city. It really was a sight to behold from above. Azruphel sat up there well into the night, simply thinking, before going back down.

A/N: So, I found a website that teaches black speech. Obviously it is a fan site, because Tolkien only had a few translated words, but these fans took those words and the inscription on the ring and created a language. I think it is the land of shadow... something like that. Anyway, on the site there is a translator in which you can get your own orc name! So I thought I would give it a go, and it came back with Shaataz, the villainous. I could not stop laughing. It thinks I am villainous. Mwuahahahahaha! Alight, I am done. So, when Azruphel came up with a fake name, I picked Shaataz so I could have my own little cameo in the story (if a computer generated name used in a fanfic even counts as a cameo).

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