Dark Judgement 4

Dark Judgement

Part 4 - The Gap In The Door

Posted: June 1, 2007

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I could write a graphic description of the whipping, but I will not. It is suffice to say that Melkor killed me. The last slash of the whip tore through my neck and my spinal cord. I was already dead from loss of blood by the time that happened and bodiless, I watched my corpse fall to the ground and my now detached head swing wildly from the hook fastened to my hair, like some grotesque pendulum. It could have been worse. I could have survived. Being split in two from inside was not pleasant, but it was interesting that Melkor was able to achieve this: I did not think he was that large, even now as a fëa without a functioning hroa, he has made me feel inadequate.

Floating and free of pain I found myself stunned at the frailty of my body. In the past, I never seemed to tire of toying with and crushing the frailty of others: of elves and men. However, I now have to concentrate on the future and not the past, which is gone, and so it seems, is Melkor’s love for me. Melkor professed his love for me many times before his capture by the Valar. I promised to gain Middle-earth in his name and failed. He must hate me now, and yet I still love him. Perhaps he will forgive me and then I will know him as my master again. It is a state that I long for with all my being, even now, even when I know that it will never happen. I discard the weak emotions of longing, hope and love; they can mean nothing if I am to survive.

Melkor looks up and I realise he can see me. A fleeting thought occurs that he can torture my naked fëa too. I must not let fear rule my actions. I must be brave and unflinching even though I am now terrified. I look down at him.

“You failed me. You are dismissed. I turn my face from you forever.” He turned around and faced the other way. This left the way for all the creatures in the darkness to hunt me down, attack my fëa and torture me until the Valar ended my sentence.

No time for thought. Primal instinct urged me to flee and so I did. It did not matter where I flew to, only that I escape. There were surprisingly few places to hide and others, who did not welcome my presence, occupied those that did exist. In one sheltered cave lay a pool of slime. I tried to hide within the cave but the slime reached up with green whippy projections and attacked me before I could go further than the entrance. Because of my recent experience with the tentacle gag, I was loath to let it touch me. Continuing with my flight, I looked for a safe haven in the dangerous darkness and in the end found none. I stopped comparing my former life with this one. It was pointless and futile and my taste for it had gone.

My whole existence became devoted to eluding the creatures that hunted me. There was no respite and it was never ending. My weariness slowed my flight and I found myself at the Door of Night, beaten and exhausted. A small gap in the door enabled me to slip my fingers through, enough to touch the light beyond, but no more. What new torture was this? My hand reformed into living flesh and I could not remove it from beyond the door. The whole of my fëa gradually formed bones, muscle, sinew and skin and I had, in what must have been only minutes, a new body. The pain in my wrist was agonising, the flesh, bone and skin compressed between the edges of the gap. Unable to move away from the door, I became aware that I was now a captive without any means of escape.

A tentacle slithered along my bare leg. For the first time in my life, I could not fight back. Beaten and exhausted I felt a tear run down my cheek; the first one ever in my life. “Please,” I said to what I knew not. “I do not want to exist anymore.”

But I was not allowed the luxury of the obliteration of my fëa. The tentacle pulsated inside me, causing a cramping sensation and then after a while, all of a sudden, I felt it feeling around the base of my throat. The tentacle was all the way through me! Horrified, I opened my eyes to look at the creature that had put it there.

I do not know for how long I screamed except that it was a long time. Even with my eyes shut I could see the dread creatures circled around me. They tortured my body and my mind. All that kept me in the same place was my hand through the door. I gave up any hope that I would be rescued or that my ordeal would end. I knew that my past deeds were being punished but at one point, surely I would have paid for my transgressions. Nothing that I visited upon the elves and Men of Middle-earth compared to the tortures that I endured at the Door of the Night. But in truth, it is only because they did not exist that I did not employ them.

I lay constantly in searing pain. I did not expect sympathy, not even from myself. The whole focus of my existence was enduring agony. Now I am able to reflect that I truly know my limits, both physically and mentally under the extreme conditions of fear, pain and terror. At the time, I was unable to think at all. Then it happened, a hand touched mine on the other side of the door. It held on firm, but the warmth and steadfast contact made the pain on my side of the door seem somehow sharper and more unbearable.

I beat against the door, yelling and pleading to be rescued. A tentacle slammed into my mouth and shot rapidly down my throat. The arm shook me until I went unconscious, but before everything went black, I saw my hand gradually tearing off at the wrist where the door held it. It is strange what we take notice of when all seems to be lost.

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