Into Mordor - Chapter VI - Life of an Haradrim called by the Dark Lord Sauron.

Jyras awoke, but he thought he would have been wiser to stay unconscious.
He was lying on a table, his hands, arms and legs bounded to the old wood.
Around him, there was nothing but pain.
Tools, instruments of torture were everywhere to be seen.
On his left was a little fire, and one meter above it had been built a tiny iron box, just about the size of a men.
Even as he looked, a crying orc, covered of bruises and dried blood, was put into the box.
Soon, he began to scream and an horrible smell of roasted flesh spread into the room.
A few minuts later, the orc was suffering more than any men could afford, but he was still alive.
His clothes had melted and his body was completely full of blisters.
When he was at last put out of the box, he had no voice left, nor did he have tears to cry.
He was just there, on the ground, sobbing, his body convulsing, his mind out of himself.
A slight shiver of terror ran along Jyras' back.
On his right, there was a table similar to the one he was over, but vertical.
There, another orc was being whipped while servants of the Dark Lord put salt and acid on the opened bruises.
This time, Jyras turned quickly the head and brang up the last meals he had eaten.
So this was how Mordor treated its servants.
The Dark Lord was full of surprises.
Suddenly, the smiling head of the Mouth of Sauron appeared over his table.
''Awoken you are? Good. Very good. You'll listen to me, Young Haradrim, and then, you'll perhaps leave this room alive. Understood?''
Jyras couldn't find the strenght to speak, so he slightly nodded, his eyes full of terror.
''Good. My Master, Sauron the Great, is unhappy of your attitude. It seems you've killed one of his pets.''
His smiled deepened, as if he had just said something funny.
''Of course, Orcs can be replaced. They aren't so important. But it's the attitude behind the action that sadden my Master. I received informations that your behavior since you left... Bar Makan, is it?''
Again, Jyras nodded.
''Yes, Bar Makan... So, I heard your behavior wasn't the one we're used to seen from servants of the Dark Lord. In fact, you're on the edge of Treason. And treason is... Repressed in Mordor. Do you understand me?''
Jyras swallowed.
''I want nothing but to serve the Dark Lord! I swear it!''
The Mouth of Sauron nodded.
''Of course, and I'm sure you're telling the truth. But, as you must understand, everyone who's put on this table will say so. I just need to be certain your will of serving our Master will never fade. It isn't with a high hearth I do this. It hurts me as much as it'll hurt you.''
Jyras fought, tried to free his hands, frantically, with an air of madness.
''No, no, NO! PLEASE! Get me out of here! I swear it! I'll serve the Dark Lord until my last breath! You MUST believe me! PLEASE!''
But all he got was another cold smile, as the vision of the Mouth of Sauron was replaced by the one of an orc.
He looked at him, awaiting pain.
Then he felt it.
At first, it was an unpleasant feeling in his legs, as if there was some weight on it.
Then it became deeper, and harder, and the unpleasant became pain.
He looked, and saw that the table was broken at the level of his thighs, pulling his bones and his flesh, and his pelvis.
He felt as if all his body was going to break, and he let a first scream escape from his mouth.
But the pain lasted, became stronger and stronger, until he couldn't even think of what was going on.
Then, as slowly as it has come, the feeling lightened.
But the slowness itself was a torture.
He was hoping for the pain to cease, but it was still there, even if it wasn't as strong as it had been.
It took at least five minuts before his body was in a normal position, and it was the five longest minutes of his life.
The Mouth of Sauron came back.
''Does your pledge still hold, Young Haradrim?''
Jyras nodded.
''It isn't enough for my master. Repeat those words after me.''
Without even thinking about what he was doing, he obeyed.
''I, Jyras of Bar Makan, swear on the One Ring to serve blindly the will of Sauron, Lord of Middle-earth, and of his main servants. I'll fight and die for Mordor, and if I don't die in the battle, I'll still serve my Master as much as I can, into Barad Dur, into Mordor, or wherever the Dark Lord thinks it's necessary. I live because of him, and I'll live for him.''

When the pledge ended, and for the second time in one single day, Jyras fainted and crossed the frontier between Middle-Earth and the World of Dream.

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