Orcs poured out of Isengard like black pus from an infection of the Earth itself. Tidhelm was standing alone on top of the pinnacle of Orthanc, the black splinter responsible for the infection in the first place. The sun was setting and soon it would be time to march, yet there was one loose end that needed to be accounted for. With his price on his finger, Tidhelm made his way down. To the dungeons of Isengard.
Dimly lit and damp are the dungeons of Isengard. Once these caverns were without a purpose but now they are the Nightmares of the enemies of Saruman. Tidhelm was never a man of physical torture yet he was not the only servant of Saruman. Two half-orc followed their captain like a black shadow for minutes until they came to the holding cell of the second longest staying guest. The cell was ordered open and one of the half-orcs obeyed. Tidhelm went in alone, with the torch of one of the orcs lighting the room.
The cell was high enough to stand in yet the prisoner couldn’t even if he wanted to. His left leg is still unable to stand on. They whisper that the captive did not even scream when they hammered on his leg for a second time. Tidhelm looked into the corner, to the pole and the chain. He looked at the collar attached to the chain and the man that was wearing it around his neck. His face was still as bad as last time, yet not many will look decent with one eye burned out and a patch in front of the other. Tidhelm took of the patch from the man his eye, his arms tried to reflex and shield it from the torch that was wielded by one of the half-orc behind the bars of the door. His arms tried, yet none of their former strength remained to lift them. Food was kept from him for a long time, even that the prisoner endured. No physical violence had broken this man, yet this only had prolonged his pain and suffering. Now it was the time that Half-orcs will no longer bring harm to this man. He was to be released from his bounds on this day. Tidhelm brought his head closer to the broken man wetting his lips before speaking: ”And still you linger, Leofmund.” The prisoner gazed up at the sounding of his name, with what seemed to be the last light in his eye he looked with anger at his captor. Leofmund’s voice was weak and distant: ”If I could, I would spit at your presence. I would spit at your betrayal. I would spit at the harm that you brought upon us, but you do not deserve my effort.’’ Tidhelm looked at the door when a woman gets dragged in by one of the Half-orcs. The captor was tempted to make use of the gift around his finger.
“I brought you a gift, your sister to be precise.’’ Tidhelm looked at the woman while he spoke, she was only for a week in Isengard. Picked up while strolling out of town by half-orc riders. Leofmund stared at the frightened woman and spoke quickly after: ’’This woman is not my sister.” Tidhelm bended closer to Leofmund, staying just out of hand’s reach: ’’She is. Are you that far gone that you do not even see your sister as your own?’’ Doubt was seen on Leofmund’s face, yet still he was certain: ’’This woman, she is not my sister.’’ Tidhelm bended even further, laying his hand on Leofmund’s shoulder. A dread went through Leofmund and he looked with his still open eye at his captor. Tidhelm felt the ring on his hand, he felt its wrath emitting into the room.Tidhelm answered Leofmund’s gaze: ’’She is your sister, Estymwe!’’ The captive looked at the woman across the room. “Is…is she truly my sister?’’ Tidhelm smirked and held his hand of the captive’ shoulder. He walked over to the woman, who was still sitting on the floor with fear in her eyes. ‘’Yes, she is your sister.’’ A small glimmer of hope was on Leofmund’s face, not having seen anything remotely friendly in weeks. Tidhelm looked down upon the woman, on her weakness and pettiness. The captor unsheathed his sword and kept it near the woman’s neck. She wanted to move backwards at the sight of the blade but the Half-orc held her upper arms tightly in his large hands. Leofmund looked in awe at the scene before him, finding the strength in himself to try to stand up and throw himself at his captor. Tidhelm smirked when the chain made a stop to his body, resulting in the prisoner falling to the floor. Tidhelm looked at the broken warrior, smiling to himself before he spoke again: ”I have done what the Half-orcs couldn’t in weeks.” After one slash Leofmund’s hope was gone. One of the half-orcs handed the noble a cloth. Tidhelm cleaned his sword and sheathed it again. Tidhelm looked at the half-orc that held the woman and spoke to him: ’’Bring me a spike.’’ Leofmund gazed up from the floor at Tidhelm, hatred in his eye. Tidhelm brought his head close to the captive and started speaking: ‘’You are weak Leofmund, son Elfwine. You was right to treat you like he did, yet even that was not enough to make a man out of you. Captured by Hill-man, getting thrown into the dungeons and now? Not even capable to safe your own sister? You are a disgrace!’’ One of the half-orcs came back with a crude wooden stack and planted it into the ground. Tidhelm grinned when the half-orc impaled the girl’s head upon it in the opposite of the room. Tidhelm spoke to the goon when he was done: ‘’Keep our captive standing up.’’ The half-orc obeyed and in a few seconds he stood behind the captive when he was held up by his arms as a man broken. Tidhelm stood in front of the captive, his sword unsheathed in his hand again. ‘’Any last words, Leofmund, son of Elfwine?’’ Leofmund made a last grin and spitted with his last strength in the face of the noble. Above on the surface, Isengard was ready to march, to bring further dead to the Rohirrim camp down South.
((I had proper permission for the actions in this chronicle from the player.))
