When Grishnákh, pressing down upon the two Halflings in the grass, drew his sword it was not to slay them. That would have forfeited all.
Men in the dark! Filthy horse boys, stinking of the beasts they rode.
, he thought, and there was no tenderness in his mind. The Halflings were only dear to him for what they knew, and for what they might carry.
It was as that great ape Uglúk said: alive and unspoiled, and those orders the same for both of them, even if they did serve different Masters.
But his sword betrayed him as it cleared its scabbard with a glinting
; there was a whistling sound close by, and then—
In the bowels of Lugbúrz, where the clang of steel and the shrieking machinery drowned out the screams of Men and Orcs, where Grishnákh had plied his trade as a torturer with rack and screw,
with hammer and tongs and with long knives, the blood on his hands was never his. He was not prepared for this fierce white pain.
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