𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬, 𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐖𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐬 || 𝐑𝐎𝐁𝐁 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐊

ᴛʜɪʀᴛʏ-ᴛᴡᴏ

Okay uhhh so this is the chapter where the dove's condition deteriorates rapidly. It's not dead i don't think but it's also definitely not living its best life. Just, uh. Keep that in mind.

TW for torture via knife as well as blunt force, blood and canon-typical levels of violence in general. Also some threats of blinding. hmu if i should add anything else!!

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Robb had no way of knowing how much time had passed before Saruman finally came to question him.

He was first jolted out of his jumbled thoughts by steps outside the door. Seconds later there was the sound of a lock opening and then, at last, a beam of light fell on the floor of his cell.

Robb straightened up as best he could. His muscles protested; the lack of food, drink and sleep taking its toll. Robb bit back a groan.

Saruman looked just as he had when they had first met, clad all in white, his long hair falling over his shoulders. He carried a torch, the flickering light casting half of his expression in eerie shadows. When the door closed behind Saruman, everything but his face and the topmost part of his robes faded back into darkness.

"Good evening," Saruman said, his voice neither angry nor intimidating. He seemed serene as he put the torch into a sconce beside Robb's head, unconcerned by the fact that one of his prisoner's hands was still free.

Robb remained silent.

"You must forgive me if I do not address you by your name—I have not yet come to know it."

The corner of Robb's mouth ticked up. "That's alright."

Saruman only raised an eyebrow.
"Very well. It makes no difference to me. I am sure you know why you are here."

Robb shrugged as best as he was able. "There are a variety of possible reasons. I couldn't begin to guess which one you deem most important."

"In that case, I will speak plainly," Saruman said, his lips parting in what Robb suspected was meant to be a gradfatherly smile. "I have no desire to see you treated harshly, or have you stay here in this… room."

The way Saruman eyed the dirty wall next to him made it very clear he meant hovel. Robb was almost insulted that the man thought he would betray his friends for what, a bed? Come off it.

"I would ask you why it is you were sent here, or how, but I know the Valar—they are tight-lipped at the best of times. No. There are more important matters: You know where the One Ring is. Tell me."

Robb raised his eyebrows. "Honestly? I haven't the faintest idea."

It was not even a lie. Frodo and Sam could be anywhere by now. Even if Grey Wind had found them and Robb warged into him, he would be none the wiser. What good did seeing a location do when Robb had never been there before, nor seen a picture or—Gods forbid—a map? Right now, just telling Robb to point out which direction Mordor was in would be asking too much. Not north, probably, but could he be sure? Absolutely not.

A spark of anger lit up in Saruman's eyes, but it was quickly quenched. "I understand your hesitation. Perhaps I should have made sure the Halflings had the Ring when I had them captured. I assure you, seeing them so cruelly murdered was not my intention."

"Of course not," Robb growled, biting the inside of his cheek.

"But if the Halflings did not have it, who did?" Saruman pressed on. "There were only nine of you to choose from, and three out of those I can be certain did not carry it."