Hai and Shireling: Thank you once again for reviewing, and it was my pleasure to give you the so-far story outline (though on 2-19-04 I finally decided to delete it, so as not to spoil the suprise for future readers) and I will be the first to admit that that was the closest I have ever gotten to actually planning a story out!  Hope you enjoy this!  And when you're done reading, please read my author's note, I think you'll find it interesting.

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything relating to the Lord of the Rings in this story, which would be everything.  It all belongs to the brilliant JRR Tolkien. 

Author's Note:  The "words" of Sauron have been denoted with an asterisk at either end since he can't exactly speak.  You will also notice that in the book the Mouth of Sauron speaks using Old English and I'm assuming that Sauron would do likewise, so I have tried to represent that in this chapter.  However, I will be the fist to admit that Old English is not my strong point.

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“[The Mouth of Sauron] knew much of the mind of Sauron and was more cruel than any Orc.”

               - Return of the King, the Black Gate Opens

Chapter Three: Sauron the Great

Setting: Mordor, Barad-dur; March 16, 1419, Shire-reckoning

          The Mouth could feel the heat of the Eye long before its gaze was focused upon him.  He immediately humbled himself before Sauron the Great on bended knee.  “My Lord, I have news of good-tidings that Thou shall be pleased to know.”

          *Indeed that much need not be said!* the Voice echoed inside his head.  Sauron as of yet had no physical mouth of his own, but being the Lord that he was, had no need of such an insignificant feature.  His Lord could communicate perfectly with only the use of his brilliant mind.  *Pray tell, what is this news that thou art so eager to share?  It concerns the Ring, of that much I am certain.*

          “You are correct, as always, my Lord!  The Ring has not yet been found, but as of three days ago, a Hobbit was attacked by Her Ladyship, just beyond the Tunnel of Cirith Ungol.”

          *And my Ring?  Was It found on his body?*

          “Nay, my Lord, It was not.  But these were.”  He then unrolled the small parcel that he had carried under his arm, concealed by a piece of a ragged cloak found upon a dead orc who had been previously slain upon the Road.  There laid out in plain view before the Eye was a small sword – really nothing more than an elegant knife, a hideous grey cloak fastened with a broach wrought from a leaf of the Elf-country along the Andúin.  But these were of little importance when measured up against that which laid beside them.  Mithril!  The most beautiful mithril shirt that Sauron’s Eye had ever beheld, but his joy was taken away upon realizing that it would be too small for him to wear once he regained physical form.  But still, it would be a worthy trophy to display… if for no other reason than to present it as tangible proof that all which the great kings of Men now possessed would soon be at his disposal.  But that had not yet become a reality and He reluctantly turned His gaze from the mithriland back to the hideous face of his Mouth as he considered what he had just heard.

          The Eye seemed to grow in size and come nearer to him, as though it had become “dismounted” from between the Tower Pinnacles.  Such a thing was not possible as far as the Mouth knew, but with Sauron the Great, one must never assume too much.  This, though, had happened before, it was Sauron’s seeking gaze, the one which always seemed to question the motives of his Mouth.  “Then it was not Baggins?”

          “No, my Lord,” the Mouth answered, lowering his eyes.  There were few who could meet the gaze of the Eye, and even fewer who could do so when delivering less than adequate news, the Mouth was not one of those few.  “Thy prisoner later confessed to being one Frodo Brandybuck.  He was found virtually unharmed, save for the Lady Shelob’s bite upon his neck.”

          *He was alive?  The Lady hath never left victims alive.  Explain thyself!*

          “My Lord, there appear to have been at least two others in her passage.  We know this because the prisoner’s bounds were found cut at his side, and his sword was found laid upon his chest in a ceremonious fashion, as well as a staff bearing the mark of Minas Tirith.  It is believed, sire, that the bonds were cut by either Baggins or possibly an Elf.  This being the case, neither can be very far away.  I have sent Shagrat and his lads to seek them out.  They will be under Thy command ere long, and surely one of them carries Thy Ring.  It is also believed, sire, that the Lady left her first prisoner bound and poisoned while she sought out his companions and that the Orc-slaves found him during her brief absence.”

          *What of the Elf?  Has he been seen by any or is he merely a figment of their frightened imaginations?*

          “No, my Lord he has not been seen.”

          *Then how doest thou knowest that one among the Eldar hath entered my realm without my knowledge, I find this very hard to believe!  Doest thou not as well?*

          The Mouth swallowed.  His Lord’s past comment was the closest thing that he had ever received to a dangerous scolding.  He had after all, insulted his Lord’s intelligence and omnipotence whether such an unacceptable action had been intended or not.  Enemies of Sauron had often been on the receiving end of the Lord’s wrath after giving such cheek to one so powerful - few of whom ever lived to tell of it – but he had never been counted among those unfortunate few.  “I meant no disrespect to Thee, my Lord.  But the Lady’s webs were penetrated in such a way that Shagrat believed could only be accomplished by an Elf.”

          *And what, pray tell, does Shagrat know of such matters of importance?*

          “Very little, I would presume, my Lord”  The Mouth dropped his gaze once more, trying to hide the fact that his body was trembling.  He had no reason to believe that his Lord would harm him, but if he were to be suspected of a lie then anything was feasible, and at the moment he had no way to prove many of his claims.  Though he voiced them nonetheless for fear that the Lord would later learn of such facts from outside sources and come to the belief that his trusted Mouth had deceived him by with-holding such valuable information.  No, that could not be allowed.  Better for Sauron to discover it to be merely a misunderstanding than for Him to discover the truth by other means.  If the latter were to happen then all hope of having lordship over that traitorous wizard Saruman would be crushed in an instant.  “Assuming that Shagrat be not mistaken, what dost Thou propose be done in regards to the spies?”  He should have stopped right there, but he could not restrain such thoughts as were rising unbidden and unchecked into his malicious mind.  “I find it hard to believe that one traveling with such companions could know so little as the prisoner claims.  Perhaps he would at least know which of his companions is the Ring-bearer.  The desired information could certainly be beaten out of him in due time, though such a beating would have to wait until he regains consciousness.  It would be a great misfortune indeed if the wretched thing were unable to feel the pain.”  He began to sweat profusely as the Eye grew and seemingly loomed ever closer to the subject of its scrutiny.  He mentally cursed himself, for he who well knew the mind of his Lord also should have known better than to assume that such details had gone unnoticed by such an omnipotent personage as He.

          *So it would,* Saruon agreed with a dangerous edge upon his voice.  And the Mouth found himself licking his lips at the thought of bringing the whip upon the little Shire-rat’s back himself, and he found himself to be especially relieved that his Lord did not seem displeased that he had overstepped his bounds.  His Lord seemed at the moment too preoccupied with his thoughts to notice such details – if that was even possible.  The privileged task of torturing him who had aided the hated Ring-bearer had at first belonged to the Orcs, who it seemed were horribly ill-trained in the art of torture and interrogation.  That was best left to the master of the art, namely himself, who had had many millennia to practice such a foul and satisfying craft.  *That privilege shall be thine soon enough, but not yet.* The Mouth found it hard to conceal his disappointment at his Lord’s words, and in the end failed miserably at doing so.  His Lord let out a cruel laugh, which vibrated inside his head so loud that he gave considerable and serious thought to what he believed to be the inevitable pain of a cracking skull.  Cracking skull…?  Now there was an idea!  *No, my Mouth,* Sauron’s voice returned, leaving only a ‘splitting’ headache in its wake.  *I have other plans for the prisoner, but you shall have your way with him in due time.  I have long kept the boarders of this small land under a constant watch and I shall tell thee that which I have seen.  Men, many Men on the march, ready to make war!  I have no doubt that my armies shall be victorious, and that this victory could be obtained with great ease, but is that even necessary?  Nay, it is not,* Sauron the Great answered before his Mouth could begin to provide the expected answer. *Among the company is Mithrandir.  I can only assume that it is his folly that brought the Shireling to my realm and thus into my custody.*

          “My thoughts exactly, my Lord,” the Mouth agreed out of turn, as though his opinion actually mattered.  He immediately recognized his cheek and felt his face burning with embarrassment as the Eye turned away from the mountainous boarder and straight down upon him once again.

          *Thus being,* Sauron continued, without the need to voice his disappointment at such an inexcusable interruption, *the guilt must be heavy on his heart for the condition of one of his miserable friends.  This though may work well to my advantage.  He may just be willing to pay a high price for the creature’s return.*

          “Return, my Lord?” the Mouth gasped.  Surely the Great Lord of Mordor would not give mercy to two of the despised creatures, particularly this one!  The other one, the Gollum-creature, had been captured in some distant land and apparently had not known the nature of his ‘Precious’ and could be excused only for lack of common-sense.  But not this Brandybuck!  He had no doubt known what the Ring was, for why else would one so small dare to venture so far from his homeland and to enemy territory of all places?  “But surely the creature must be taught a lesson!  After all he’s done, he surly must be tortured into submission for defying Your greatness and not the least for with-holding the one true desire of Your Majesty’s heart!”

          *Thou must not believe that such thoughts have escaped my mind!!* Sauron thundered, causing yet another of his infamous headaches, and the Mouth inaudibly muttered some foul words he had heard from the Orcs in their own hideous language.  What they meant he did not rightly know, but the sounded foul enough to be fitting for the occasion.  Yes, Brandybuck would get a sound thrashing for these headaches alone.  For if the little rat had not had the cheek to cross into the Lord’s territory, then he would not be up here, humiliating himself and hurting his poor head! Either not noticing, or not simply not caring to notice the pain of his servant, Sauron continued to form his malicious plans – something he never ceased to do.  *When I have regained what is mine I shall rule all of Middle-earth.  At that appointed time, the prisoner and all of his kind shall pay for his wickedness.  But for the present, he might actually prove to be a valuable asset.  When Mithrandir arrives, thou shall go to meet with him in person.  Present before him the sword, Dwarf-coat and Elf-cloak that were found on the prisoner and tell him that the price of the prisoner’s ransom shall include all of the lands west beyond the Great River.  If he demands to see the prisoner prior to acquiescing, then present him you may.  But he must be fit for presentation, properly clothed and fed.  We can not have him so beaten that he is barely alive!  Gandalf, fool though he may be, would never pay any price – least of all one so high – for a dying prisoner.  Once I have the land of the Halflings within my dominion, then I shall give him back over to thee and thou mayst do with him as thou pleases – for he has foolishly released his name and that shall thus make him all the easier to locate within his homeland.  The only provision I will make as to his custody at that time is that he is not to be killed under the strain of your torture.  I want him to long feel the pain of his wickedness.  I want his pain to be second only to the accursed Ring-bearer who shall in due time be stricken once again with the blade of the Witch-king, and this time shall succumb to the inevitable.  But as for this Brandybuck, you must have him ready for a journey to the Gate by the first red light of day!  Until then, you may torture the prisoner as best suites my purpose.  But take care not to harm him overmuch.  If he is so broken that even Gandalf the Fool has the brains to see he is of no use, then I shall have the Orcs use thee as the test subject of their next torture machine!*

          “Yes, my Lord!  What of the Elf and the other Hobbit, my Lord?” the Mouth ventured to ask, bowing low before the Eye, desperate to change the subject – not that his Lord likely had anything left to say regarding the issue. 

          *Double the watch around the Lady’s passage!  We’ll find them!  The Elf may have ventured far already, but if he is taking care of his pathetic companion then he is likely still within the vicinity. He slipped past our nets once, that alone is unacceptable, and many an Orc-head will role!  But I now have many riding to the Gate and cannot recall them for a search. Those given watch over the Lady’s passage shall all be killed for their lack of attention on-duty, but only when they have mended their error.  I want those prisoners as well!  Alive and unspoiled!*

          “Yes, my Lord,” the Mouth bowed low once more.  He re-wrapped the sword, coat and cloak, tucked them under his arm and proceeded to descended the Tower stairs. He suddenly felt very lucky indeed for possessing the fastest horse in Mordor, for he could hardly wait to discover how thick a head a creature so small could possibly possess.

~To Be Continued~

Well, what do you think? Let me know.  I know it’s not one of my better chapters and I promise you’ll be seeing Frodo in all of his poor misery soon!  I also would like feedback on my use of Old English.  The Mouth uses it in “The Black Gate Opens” and I’m assuming that Sauron would as well.  I will be the first to admit that it is not my strong point.  Any advice on this issue will be taken into consideration when the small details are later revised.

Please check out my prayer request detailed out in the ending authors not of my story "Frodo's Bane and Pippin's Stomach".  If you would like a further update please go to the hyperlink labelled "Oma Update Info" which can be found under my Links on my profile page.