Dark Judgement 7

Dark Judgement

Part 7 - Nienna’s Visit

Posted: June 1, 2007

*****

The screaming continued and I could not block out any of it. If I shut my eyes, the torture scene replayed in my mind, which was worse than seeing it on the wall where I could retain a certain amount of detachment. I sat and watched, unable to look away and unable to block out the sounds. The whole of my time seemed to have been reduced to a series of edited highlights that were played continuously for I do not know how long.

I grieved for what I had endured and for what I would endure, as I knew intimately the story being played by the moving painting on the wall. I also knew that if the being in the moving painting had been someone else, I would have enjoyed it. Disturbing, I know, but honest. Because it was me, it was raw, and it hurt to watch. I wanted to help the being in the painting; I did not want it to suffer, because its suffering is mine.

A new and more frightening consequence occurred after a while. If I looked away, sharp jolts of pain that mirrored the torture endured by myself in the painting would shock through my body. On one occasion, I watched the tentacle slithering up the leg and I looked away in disgust. Immediately I felt the cold, wet, slimy appendage snaking its way into my body. I looked back at the screen and the sensation disappeared. I dared not look away, not even for an instance because I knew the pain of the tentacles and the especial terror they held for me.

The door appeared in the wall and Nienna walked through. I looked at her and immediately the pains shot through me so that my body jerked and convulsed. Spit drooled from the side of my mouth and I vomited. Wiping my face with my jumpsuit sleeve, I focussed again on the moving painting and the pain eased away.

“How do you feel about watching yourself being tortured, Sauron?” Nienna seemed almost to gloat.

“It is painful.” I knew not how to tell her that it brought unfamiliar feelings into my psyche that made me afraid of what I might become. I did not know if I could embrace such change.

She knew my feelings and told me that I could only survive in Valinor if I accepted that I could feel. “If you are to love others you must learn to love yourself.”

“I do love myself.” I did not know what she meant; of course, I love myself. Everything I ever did was for me, wasn’t it?

“No Sauron, you hate yourself. You enjoy humiliation and being tortured.” Nienna’s face held no expression.

“Only if Melkor was the one giving me the pain.” In truth, the only humiliation I had ever had at the hands of others was when running away because I was defeated.

“He also humiliated you, Sauron, and taught you to enjoy it.” Suddenly the images on the wall stopped, leaving the surface bare. “You can face me now without pain.”

I cleared my throat and brought my knees up to my chest and hugged them. “Just because he humiliated and inflicted pain on me does not mean I hate him or myself. I was willing and desired it of him.”

“You desired it because you were taught to desire it, rather like the dog that is trained to fight other dogs. They desire the blood, the pain, the kill. They desire what an ordinary dog would shy away from in fear. Most of all they desire the approval of their owner, just as you did. The approval of the master is worth any amount of pain and humiliation, isn’t it Sauron?” Nienna’s face remained expressionless.

“Well you would seem to know.” Intense pain of the like I had never experienced before suddenly wracked my body. After a few seconds it stopped. Breathing harshly and with a strong pulse pounding painfully in my ears, I fought the urge to vomit, not wishing her to see me weak.

“I will not tolerate rudeness, Sauron, and I have no qualms about inflicting severe pain upon your body if I need to.” She looked hard and I knew I could never beat her. I would have to tell her what she wanted to hear and believe it in myself; I could not risk going back through the Door. She continued. “Make no mistake Sauron, I am your mistress. Melkor has betrayed your love for him. Of course, you know that he never felt anything for you don’t you? You were merely a tool, a powerful one, but a tool none the less. He seduced you because you were of value. How does it feel to be betrayed, Sauron?” Then she smiled. “How does it feel to love one who hates you?”

“Why do you taunt me?” It was unbearable even to entertain the idea that I had never meant anything to Melkor. I truly loved him and still grieved at the loss of his love that according to Nienna had never been any love at all.

“Answer the question, Sauron.” Nienna tapped her fan on her knee; I had not noticed it before.

“It was a shock to be betrayed; I did not expect it. I felt bewildered. As to loving one who hates me, I do not know if he never loved me. I accept that he hates me because of the way he treated me. I do not think one could hurt the one they loved as badly as that and still maintain they do not hate them.” It was hard to pay attention to the issue when most of my time was spent avoiding it.

“I did not ask for an analysis; now answer the question.” Nienna is the Vala who weeps for the suffering of Arda and I suppose many of my actions have made her weep buckets, not that I care. She is also described as giving comfort and counsel to those who need it, and she teaches pity and endurance. I wonder if it is actually Nienna, I see before me, because this one in no way resembles that of popular belief.

“It feels empty and wasteful. It feels as though I have lived a lie and that all my actions were worthless because they were based on the premise that Melkor loved me. This is why I cannot let myself believe that he does not love me. The cause I believed in, and still do believe in as right, would then be for nothing.” There, it was said, and I wondered why I felt lighter. It was as though I could smile without cruelty being the cause of it.

“Well said.” She smiled and pointed to the wall. The moving painting appeared, but this time it was not of my time beyond the Door. A large room came into view. It was my old bedroom at Barad-dûr. On the large bed in the centre of the room lay an elf, shaking with pain and crying, and bearing the fresh marks that I had given him. “He never cried in front of you did he?”

*****

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