Source: FotR and Appendices
Disclaimer: Tolkien’s world and plot-points.
He gathered them with care, laying them lovingly across the crook of his arm. This one was barbed and had to be handled with caution, a long stem lined with recursive thorns. This, he’d found in the south, it had clasping tendrils that spiralled sharply. These were locally produced, hardy perennials, showy, if a little obvious... but this was his favourite - a circle of thin, shiny petals... exquisite!
He sniffed, relishing the harsh tang of freshly honed iron... and fear! Barad-dûr’s gaoler laughingly called them his ‘bouquet’ – this bundle of terrible tools designed to, pierce, flay, crush and mutilate.