Dark Judgement 8

Dark Judgement

Part 8 - The Shower

Posted: June 29, 2007

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My time beyond the Door taught me what it is to suffer and endure constant torture: it becomes an exercise in survival or willingness to die; much like the one the elf in the painting had endured for so many years at my hands. It was transparent that I was to him, what Melkor was to me. I looked away, unable to bear his suffering because it was too near to my own. “What happened to Maglor?” I asked, dreading the answer.

“Why do you care?” Nienna indicated that I should keep watching the wall.

Maglor, chained to a wall, watched the masonry tumbling around him. Death would be painful and hopefully quick. The stronghold was falling and he would die. He was not afraid of pain; it was an old acquaintance and he knew it intimately. He was also not afraid of dying; it was something he had prayed for constantly, never daring to hope the Valar would actually listen to him. The tower fell and Maglor’s body fell with it and was crushed and torn to pieces by the falling rocks. Nienna replayed the scene several times and made me watch each time.

“Poor Maglor, he has suffered much and now his mind is completely gone. That is your fault and you will be the one to help him get it back. If you fail, we will put you back beyond the Door and there will be no second chance. Do I make myself clear?” Nienna’s eyes bored into my very fëa and I wanted to look away but her stare held me.

“Very clear.” It was as though my lips worked independently of my brain.

“It will not be straight away because we have to get you to a point where you can help him.” She looked at me as if seeing me for the first time. “You look disgusting and look at all that vomit. You are living like a pig, Sauron.”

She told me to stand and so I did. The door on the wall appeared and two elves walked through. My hands were cuffed behind me and my legs chained together at the ankles so that I could walk only small steps. They wrinkled their noses at my smell and it amused me that they were repulsed. I was bound and yet still able to torture elves. How sweet is that?

We walked outside along a long stone corridor of what I assumed must be a prison, until we came to a strange room. My restraints were removed and the elves cut the jumpsuit away from my body and pushed me through the door and quickly shut and locked it. I stood waiting for something to happen, when little silver balls studded with many holes appeared in the ceiling, walls and floor. I looked back at the door and could see the two elves laughing, so to show them I cared not; I walked into the centre and waited. Hot water shot from all directions, soapy at first, which I took full advantage of by washing my hair and cleaning my body. Then the water turned clear to rinse me. It was good to be clean. The water increased in pressure and became painful. There was nowhere to shelter from the dagger like assault of the water jets upon my body and it did not stop until I howled in pain. My body was bruised all over. However, my ordeal was not over. A wind as hot as that near the fires of Mount Doom then tore through me and the bare surface became so hot the soles of my feet blistered. My hair smelled faintly of burning and I wondered if I was to burn to death in some twisted act of retribution.

The elves at the door laughed still and pointed at me through the glass screen, gesturing their contempt. In spite of my pain I turned and faced them and stared back, not moving an inch. Their expressions froze. I do not know if I was the cause or whether it was because Nienna had appeared behind them. The hot wind stopped and I waited to be taken away. My skin rapidly developed blisters and my lips and eyelids swelled, reducing my vision.

Nienna walked into the room and ordered the elves to put the chains and cuffs back on me. The blood ran where they cut through the blisters, but I did not complain. I would not give them that satisfaction. I walked nude back to my room accompanied by the elves and Nienna. The hole in the wall appeared and I walked through. Everywhere was clean; all vomit gone. I walked over to the mattress, sat down and faced the wall; no doubt, the moving painting would start again.

The painting did not start. Instead, two healers came into the room and Nienna directed them to see to my injuries. This time she stayed with me. The cuffs and chains were removed and salve and bandages applied to my body, which was now enduring a burning pain, exquisite in its extremity.

“Lay down on the bed, Sauron.” I did as she bid me. She covered me with the blanket and I looked at her.

“Why did they do that to me?”

“Because the elves that lived on Middle-earth hate you. Surely, you know that. They have long memories and you will never truly be trusted; not whilst there is a single elf left who still endures the damage or memories caused by your deeds.” Nienna tucked the blanket around my neck and put a thick towel under my head to catch the drips from the blisters that were bursting on my scalp. “Sleep now, Sauron. This was not ordered by me and I do not wish to see you suffer in this way. When you awake you will be healed.”

It would have been perfectly acceptable for her to make me suffer every bit of my discomfort in view of my past transgressions, but she did not. I lay with my eyes shut as a warm heaviness curled over my body, pulling me into a dreamless sleep. My last thought was that I had always sneered at those who showed mercy and compassion or asked for it, but now I knew it for what it was. It felt good and I was grateful for it.

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