Blast it . Jinan realized he had made a fool of himself and he swore under his breath. The Poros was a day away -- of course the man would not starve to death by then. He shook his head.
“I do not fear death!” the soldier whispered in Jinan's ear.
The Haradrim smiled and looked at the Gondorian. Jinan did not doubt his bravery, but he also realized the foolishness of it all. The soldier was going to die, sooner or later, a painful death. The soldier himself must realize that. But Jinan wanted information from him before that time came. "Whoever mentioned death, brave Gondorian," Jinan said.
He called for a glass of wine and stared at the soldier. When the soldier/farmer returned, Jinan took a deep sniff and swished the wine in the crude goblet. The fresh scent of the liquor wafted from the cup. Jinan took a small sip, twirled the cup in his fingers, and said, "I suppose you have family in the Poros settlement. They are going to die you know, so you might as well tell me what I want to know."
The soldier lifted his head and replied, "Then why should I tell if you are going to kill them any way?"
"Death will take them. We Haradrim would merely hasten their deaths," Jinan answered. "You will have to see your loved one's die in either case. Again I ask, how many people are garrisoned in the Poros settlement."
The sound of men breaking camp drifted through the tent and Jinan cursed. Why was the Gondorian being a mule, so strong under physical torment and the beginnings of mental torture? He drummed his fingers on his knees. He might have to finish his interrogation on the road.
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