CW graphic depictions of violence!
Happy reading :D
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Robb awoke splayed on the floor and in pain.

His cheek rested on something cold and wet. When he lifted his head with a groan, eyes straining to focus, a string of drool dangled from the corner of his mouth. The movement sent a stab of pain through his head and Robb hissed. A puddle of blood and spit had gathered on the floor below his head. The crystal ball lay on the floor a few steps away, just beyond Robb's outstretched hand.

Gods, his head hurt. Robb worked his jaw in an effort to alleviate the ache, but that just made it all worse. He had no idea how he had missed the pain in his mangled cheek, let alone lain on it for any extended period of time, but he was regretting it now.

Robb groaned again and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. He had to focus.

The puddle of blood meant his wound had reopened, perhaps even torn further while he had been interrogated by Sauron. He must have been screaming, Robb thought: in pain, in fear, in protest.

The headache was easy to explain, at the very least. The fresh bloodstains on his tunic were a bit of a stretch for his brain, but he vaguely remembered his muscles seizing up the second he had touched the crystal ball. Perhaps that had ripped his other wounds back open, as well.

Something hard hit Robb in his ribs. The pain barely even registered, and he wondered abjectly whether his nervous system had reached its limit. Still, he rolled with the blow as best he could. Now on his back, Robb could see Saruman glaring down his nose at him. Robb let his head fall to the floor with a sigh.

"What," he mumbled, his speech slurred. Maybe Robb should be more afraid. He really was defenceless, now. But he was tired. And anyway, after having Sauron in his head, Saruman seemed almost harmless.

"You should be grateful, Robb Stark," Saruman said, "that Sauron found you so interesting."

Robb barely had the time to process that statement before Saruman pointed his staff at him.

"I would have been quite glad to dispose of you," he continued, his eyebrows drawn together. "Alas, the Dark Lord has found another use for you. And therefore he wants you undamaged."

"Wait," Robb yelped hoarsely, "what are you-"

Once more, he found himself bound in place, unable to move. This time, though, it was accompanied by a faint tingling sensation that worked its way up his body. It became harsher when it reached the arrow wound in his side, turning into a fizzy, bubbling numbness. The same thing happened with the thin cuts in his throat and the raw skin of his wrist. It was strongest when it reached Robb's cheek, the numbness so intense it almost became painful again, but that just meant Robb could finally feel what was happening. His injuries were closing up, skin knitting itself back together without bandages or stitches.

Undamaged, Saruman's words echoed in Robb's mind. Sauron wanted him undamaged. The prospect sent shivers down his spine, but this one gift horse Robb would not look in the mouth. Being healed gave him a chance at escape. So long as he never fell into Sauron's hands again, he would be just fine.

When Saruman was done, the only pain that remained was the persistent thumping of his headache in time with Robb's heartbeat.

Slowly, wary eyes never leaving Saruman, Robb got to his feet. His hand found the plinth the crystal ball had originally sat on behind him, and he leaned against it. Although he was no longer in pain-aside, of course, from the headache-his legs still felt weak, like those of a newborn fawn.

Saruman watched him stand without batting an eye. There were harsh lines around his mouth that spoke of displeasure, but for once, Robb felt certain it was not directed at him. The man was unhappy with Sauron's orders, that much was plain to see. Was it because he disagreed, or because Sauron had given them at all? Perhaps it was both. Saruman did not strike Robb as the following type.

Yet he obeyed. That alone spoke volumes about the sort of power Sauron possessed, even at a fraction of his strength.

With a creak, the set of doors they had entered through opened again. Instinctively, Robb's eyes flew across the room, breaking his and Saruman's stare-off. He quietly cursed himself for relenting, but it was too late. Looking back now would just prove to Saruman that he had indeed been trying to stare him down, childish as it may be.

Three Uruk-Hai entered the room. They were the same ones as before, or at least one of them was. He still carried Robb's Dwarven dagger at his hip.

"Take him back to his cell," Saruman ordered. Finally, his gaze left Robb's face. "No harm comes to him for now."

The Uruk-Hai grunted in understanding, their leader even murmuring, "Yes, my lord."

Saruman gave them a nod and left the room.

Robb's muscles relaxed all at once. For a moment, he thought he might slump to the ground from relief. The greatest danger was gone. Robb was- he was fine.

Yes, the Uruk-Hai were still with him-crowding around him, in fact, herding him back into the dim corridor-but they wouldn't hurt him. They would obey Saruman.

Only, Robb could not be sure Saruman would obey Sauron. Not when he had proven he could make Robb's injuries disappear at a moment's notice. The second he realised he could simply do so before every one of Robb's encounters with Sauron, the wizard would go right back to torturing him. Robb was sure of it.

That left him with very little time indeed to think of an escape plan. Once he was back in his cell, chained to the wall with the door locked, Robb would be done for. No, he needed something now.

His gaze fell to Balin's dagger at the hip of the Uruk-Hai walking in front. Although his fingers itched to take it, Robb knew that the two Uruks next to him would notice immediately. He had to be smart about this.

Robb let his eyes wander. The Uruk-Hai in front was not the only armed one. Of course not. The one on his left carried a scimitar, but that was far too big and unwieldy to steal, and anyway, it sat at the side facing away from Robb. If he tried to reach around the Uruk-Hai, Robb would be knocked out before he even touched it. The one on his right, however-
He carried a dagger as well. It was long and thin and looked to be made from bone. A femur, if Robb were made to guess. Brittle when faced with other bone or steel, but not at all useless. Hanging just next to his swordhand, the dagger was close enough to touch if it weren't for the Uruk's own arm in the way.

Robb was coming along willingly, so maybe that was why they were not dragging him along by his shoulders. For once, he wished they would.

They reached the stairway from before, and suddenly all the pieces slotted together in his mind like a puzzle.

Halfway up the stairs, Robb's toes collided with the next step. He tumbled forward with a hiss, only narrowly avoiding knocking his teeth out on the stone.

"Sorry," he yelped between curses as the Uruk-Hai hauled him back to his feet. "Fuck- sorry."

Their fists stayed curled in his shirt for the rest of the way, pushing Robb when they deemed him too slow. A small smile worked its way onto his face.

Now then, Robb thought, on to step number two.

With the Uruk's arm out of the way, he was free to snatch the dagger from his hip. Still, he resolved to wait.

They were close to his cell now, but that was alright. He didn't much fancy leaving three bodies in a corridor for just anyone to find, or otherwise having to drag them through half the tower in an effort to conceal his escape.

No, patience would get him much farther, here.

Once Robb spotted the door to his cell, he sprung into action. The Uruk-Hai's grips had loosened from inattention, just enough for Robb to shoulder the one on his right into the wall and tear the dagger from his hip. Before he could find his bearings, Robb slashed the Uruk's throat.

Hot blood sprayed across his face. He squeezed his eyes shut reflexively, but his mouth got the worst of it. The blood tasted awful, thick like tar, and bitter, but Robb ignored it.

He swirled around. The Uruk-Hai with the scimitar was struggling to draw it from its sheath. Robb had no idea who had designed those blades or why they thought it a good idea to sheathe them, but in that moment, it suited him very well. With the hooked end of the scimitar caught in the straps of the sheath, the Uruk was virtually defenceless.

Robb lunged across the corridor. Grabbing his shoulder, Robb drove the dagger through the soft underside of his chin. He felt the blade break against bone and clenched his teeth, ripping it back out. A gush of blood followed, coating Robb's hand. The Uruk gave a gurgling yell. Robb stabbed him in the neck with the broken dagger. It silenced him, but he was still alive.

Out of the corner of his eye, Robb saw the third Uruk-Hai charging at him and cursed. He had taken too long, and now his only weapon had lost nearly half of its length, as well.

Robb pulled the injured Uruk around, just in time to intercept the other one's attack. The Uruk-Hai jolted on impact, gave one last twitch, and then stilled. Robb pushed the body as hard as he could into the last Uruk-Hai.

For once, luck was with him. The Uruk stumbled, taken aback by the sudden weight on top of him. He tripped over the arm of the first one Robb had killed, and landed on the ground, buried under the other Uruk-Hai.

Robb rushed forward. Despite his bare feet, he barely hesitated to drive his heel into the Uruk's face. A howl echoed through the empty hall, drowning out the crunch of a breaking nose.

"Shut up," Robb hissed, dropping down next to the Uruk-Hai.
He raised his hand and stuck the dagger into the Uruk's open mouth with a yell. Then into his throat, then his eye, and then the throat again. More thick blood splashed over Robb's hands and chest and face. He didn't care. Finally, the last Uruk-Hai stilled.

"Gods, shut the fuck up."

Robb was panting, and his palm hurt where it was clenched around the bone dagger. He meant to drop it, but at the last moment, thought better of it and jabbed it into the Uruk's other eye instead. It could stay there, for all he cared. Robb didn't need it anymore.

Dark fluid ran down the Uruk-Hai's cheek like tears.

"Cunt."

Robb let himself fall back to sit on the floor. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, listening to the loud thumping of his heart in his ears. His head was swimming, but when Robb exhaled, it was with a chuckle. Wiping a hand over his bloodstained face, he tamped down the vicious, hysterical glee rising in his chest.

At last, Robb got to his feet again. There was still work to be done.

First, he heaved the topmost Uruk-Hai onto its back. Balin's dagger was still buried in his stomach, and Robb pulled it out. Black blood spilled from the wound, but without a heartbeat, it petered out quickly. He wiped the blade on the Uruk's breeches, then shoved the corpse aside to get to the dagger's sheath at the belt of the body beneath it.

For lack of his own, Robb took the entire belt and tied it around his hips. He had to poke in a new hole for it to fit, but it was better than nothing.
With his hands now free, Robb began to drag the bodies to his cell. The door was still open, thank the Gods, because searching the Uruk-Hai for a key would have cost him time he was loath to spare.

When all three bodies were out of sight, Robb took one last look around.
For a second, he thought about taking the Uruk-Hai's scimitar with him, but he just as quickly discarded the idea. He may have been healed, but he was still weaker than he would have liked-especially after fighting three Uruk-Hai and dragging their bodies. He had not eaten in days, and had very little to drink. The weight of the scimitar would slow him down more than he could afford.

Robb shook his head and stepped out of the cell, pulling the door shut behind him.

There was still quite a lot of blood on the floor, but that was something he could not change, now. Robb was hardly going to get a bucket and a mop to clean it up. He just had to hope this wasn't a busy corridor. As he had yet to see another soul in this tower at all, Robb doubted it.

Still, wiping his feet clean on his breeches to avoid leaving footprints was only sensible.

He tiptoed around the blood to the end of the hall, back to where they had come from.

Now, to find a way out.