With Hope and Without Hope

Chapter 33: Water

Gimli resisted the pull to consciousness after he hit the hard stone floor. Longing for numbing sleep, he was instead faced with his waking nightmare. His head pounded, and his back was on fire. His arms screamed when he tried to lower them as he looked about. He was in a small dark niche carved roughly into rock. He had thought he had been held in a much bigger room, but he could not be certain. Had not Legolas been beside him? He could not remember. His thoughts were a jumble that resisted straightening.

More insistent than any pain was his thirst. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth and tasted as though he had kissed an orc. He could not recall the last drink of water he'd taken. Days-or weeks-ago, Aragorn had foreseen the lack of water to be their greatest danger.

He wondered if Aragorn were still alive. Was he receiving the same treatment somewhere? Was Saruman interrogating him? Or had Aragorn succumbed to his thirst? He grieved for the man, whatever his fate, guessing they would not meet again. After all, Gimli's thirst would soon prove fatal. He regretted and dreaded this manner of death. He would much prefer the honor of death in battle, not to mention the mercy of its swiftness.

Why they had taken him down from the wall? Had they something else in mind for him? Something worse than hanging about as a toy ever at hand for orcs, worse than their knives and whips and other tools of their recreation? Had Saruman given up on obtaining information from them and allowed the orcs their full measure of brutality? Until now, though their treatment was cruel, even Gimli knew it had not been life-threatening. The cuffs that attached him to the chains on the wall remained on his wrists, so perhaps he would be returned for more of the same.

Suddenly, a jug was placed before Gimli, startling him. He frowned. Orcs were not quiet, but he'd never heard footsteps. "There!" a rough orc voice said. "I gave him water. Happy now?" Orcs for certain. He must truly be dazed.

"No! I'm not happy! If he dies, it's on me. And I'll make sure it's on you then. The blade that is! It's your head, got that! Every day he has to have water or he dies!"

"Mortals! Too much work having prisoners, I say! If they're not for killing, what good are they!"

"Ask Saruman yourself, why don't you? It's he who gave the order! Now get back to work!"

Gimli listened to the steps fade in the distance. It was nice for once to get his questions answered. And in such a timely manner. At least he was going to get some water, though he wondered what 'water every day' meant. But the orc in charge had been clear-no plans to kill him just yet. What did Saruman plan for them?

It struck him then: There had been no mention of Legolas. Had they left him hanging with nothing for days on end? How many days had passed? Or had it only been hours? He knew not, but if an elf could survive this without water, he would readily admit theirs was the superior race.

So, it seemed all of his questions had been answered. Legolas was not with him. Likely he still hung from the wall, wherever they had been held. They'd taken him down to give him water, though why he'd been brought here was an unanswered question. It did not matter much. The important thing was there was water before him.

Picking himself off the floor took nearly all he had. He paused to catch his breath before moving to grab the jug. To his surprise, it was full, so it took most of his remaining strength to draw it to him. Looking into its black depth, with no light to reflect off the water, he could not judge its cleanliness. Probably for the best. He would have to drink it regardless. Slowly at first, but he would drink all of it. He knew not when he would be given more.

After what seemed an age yet not long enough to drink his fill of water, he heard the steps of an approaching orc. "Water time is over. And you best not die on me!" the orc threatened as he leaned over the dwarf, giving him a sample of his fetid breath. The orc grabbed him by the arm and hauled him from the room.

His legs, unused to supporting him, buckled immediately. The orc simply pulled him up, not bothering to break his stride. Gimli tried to gather his feet beneath him, but it took too much effort. He gave up and let himself hang from the orc's hand. He did not feel his body dragged across the stone.