Finrod Felagund being interrogated by Sauron, from J. R. R. Tolkien’s The Silmarillion.
I also wrote a bonus fiction fragment, for an Of Beren and Luthien au where Sauron was competent at his job instead of becoming inexplicably ineffective:
“I won’t tell you anything!” Finrod spits.
The great wolf at Sauron’s side snarls back at him, and Finrod flinches at the sight of those jagged teeth, which he had last seen tearing into the flesh of his companions. Sauron throws his head back and laughs, and his teeth, like the wolf’s, are far too sharp to belong to anything other than a predator.
“Do you really think,” Sauron drawls, his voice dripping with condescension, “that there is anything you could tell me that I don’t already know?”
He reaches out and cards his fingers roughly through Finrod’s hair, pulling until Finrod can feel the hairs ripping free from his scalp and an involuntary noise of pain escapes from his throat. “Vanyar gold,” Sauron muses. He gives another harsh tug, and this time Finrod cries out in earnest. “A rare enough trait, amongst the elves of this land. Certainly I doubt I could have mistaken you for anyone other than Finrod Felagund, even if my spies had not brought me word of your quest before you ever arrived here.”
His lip curling in contempt, Sauron releases his hold on Finrod’s hair. “No,” he continues, “you have no answers to give me. My only question is whether it serves me better to kill you or hold you as a hostage. Either way, I see no reason to make your time here pleasant.”
Turning to leave, he gives a careless wave of his hand, and the wolves advance.