Dark Judgement 25

Dark Judgement

Part 25 - The Source of Erestor’s Evil

Posted: September 26, 2008

*****

In my garden room, stood Manwë. “What is your reasoning behind whipping, Erestor?” he asked as he helped himself to an apple out of the fruit basket.

“For two reasons,” I replied, eyeing the stolen fruit as he bit in to it. “Firstly, he will realise that he has to pay for his negative actions; he cannot get away with the things he did on Middle-earth now that he is in Valinor. Secondly, my staff need to see justice done.”

Manwë picked a rose from the vase and smelt it; I hoped he would put it back and not steal that too. “When have you ever cared about justice?” he smirked.

“Master, I do not care about it at all, you know that; however, my staff care very much that justice is carried out and seen to be appropriate.”

“Good answer,” Manwë said. “It shows that you are thinking about the feelings of others. Although, knowing you, you will probably deny it.”

We understood one another. I smiled and he asked about the details of the whipping.

“He is to be fastened to one of the breakwater posts on the beach and whipped with the staff looking on,” I said. “I think it will establish in his mind that there are consequences for bad behaviour. Once he calms down we can try to cure him.”

“Erestor is infested with evil,” Manwë said as he placed the core of the apple on the highly polished wooden side-table.

“I have no idea how an elf could go so exceedingly against the boundaries of his own race.” I really did have not have a clue as to why Erestor was so bad and was sorely tempted to tell Manwë to put the core in the waste litter bin near the fire. He does these things to lure me into falling from grace but I am too perceptive for him.

A servant arrived with a tray of tea and told me that Maglor had arrived back from the town with some books for me and had gone to our bedroom for a nap as he was tired. My poor Maglor was unable to sleep last night, as the weather was boiling outside, even though it was night time and we had the breeze off the sea through the open doors that lead onto the balcony. I held him all night, which I always feel the need to do, thus causing my only one to feel even hotter. I was thoughtless. I never get too hot or too cold and it did not occur to me that he would not be the same; I should have known better. Tonight I will make the room several degrees cooler and then we can sleep in each others arms comfortably. Strangely enough, that is the only time when I truly feel safe; most odd, when considering that I am the, ‘Supreme Dark Lord of Everywhere’. Manwë often calls me as such and laughs about it; such puerile wit. He says, quite truthfully, that there is no one as evil and black-hearted as me in Valinor, and so I must be the Lord of it. It is good to know that my name still means something.

Manwë waved his hand and the teapot poured strawberry tea into our cups. It is a trick that I can do as well, although if I did it, I would be accused of showing off; Manwë makes it look as though tea should only ever be poured that way. “Thank you,” I said. I might be evil, but I absolutely insist on politeness and etiquette in my home, plus the proper disposal of eaten fruit remains.

“Erestor’s problems started when he was in the womb. His nana was exceptionally beautiful and caught the eye of Melkor.” Manwë stopped to take a sip of tea.

“How was that, Master, when she lived in Gondolin?” I tried not to sound disbelieving.

“Melkor always knew where Gondolin was. Maeglin did not really betray the position; Melkor just needed someone for the elves to focus their blame upon, and as Maeglin was half mad anyway, it was easy.” Manwë took another sip of his tea and sniffed the stolen rose. “It suited Melkor’s amusement, and his vanity, for elves to be hiding from him and think that they were safe. His fëa drifted over the land and sought all the places where it would be easy to invade. One day, he saw Erestor’s nana and he desired her. She was already pregnant and so he appeared as her husband and made love to her. His seed entered the unborn Erestor’s brain and corrupted it. That is how he became unlike any other of his race. Of course, after having her once, Melkor did not desire her again and he left her alone.”

“Melkor said Erestor was so mad and dangerous that he was worthy of our attention, but so unpredictable that he would surely try to harm us. We thought that incredibly funny.” I put my empty cup down. “Did he know that Erestor was the result of his corruption?”

“I expect not,” Manwë replied. “Otherwise he might have taken more of an interest in him.”

“Well, thank the Valar he did not,” I said with a smile, not that I meant it, of course.

“We had nothing to do with it.” Manwë shrugged. “We have a policy of non-intervention, as much as we are able, which is how you were allowed to cause such mischief.”

It was a statement designed to lead to a reaction. Because of Nienna and her severe punishments, I knew better than that. “So it is not Erestor’s fault?”

“Erestor, in spite of his corruption, still knows the difference between good and bad and what society deems as acceptable behaviour. He has an overriding love of evil; however, he does have the capacity and reasoning to stop. He enjoys causing harm and misusing power. I would venture that the enjoyment is sexual for him, considering how he tortured his lover, Glorfindel, who was torn between love and terror when he lived with him. Until his brain is healed he will see nothing wrong in what he does, although he knows it is viewed by others as unacceptable.” I tried not to look as Manwë ate a rose petal; he was trying to aggravate me and enjoying himself as he did so. He knows that I cannot abide theft or provocation, unless I am the one doing it.

I could identify with Erestor so well, but could never entertain letting him stay as he was, because of his capricious nature, and also my master would never allow it. My fear of being punished by Manwë far exceeds my interest in seeking a compatriot in wickedness. “He is using a system of fighting that we have never seen before. He managed to hurt three of my staff, who are all well-seasoned warriors and he delivered the most vicious injuries.” I looked at Manwë for a possible explanation; part of me hoped that he had none, so that I could privately sneer at his lack of knowledge.

“I will have to look into this,” Manwë said and looked troubled. “I am assuming that no permanent damage was done?”

“I healed them. One had his eyes nearly gouged out and the other had several broken ribs and a ruptured lung. The other had facial bruising and I suspect a broken jaw. How is one elf able to wreak such devastation, I wonder.”

“He is stronger and more dangerous than we thought. His accommodation is secure, but from now on we will have to make sure that no one is harmed. You might have to drug his food or freeze his movement when you open the door. I leave it up to you.” Manwë poured another cup of strawberry tea and drunk it in one go. “I will be coming to witness Erestor’s punishment tomorrow. I doubt that it will have any effect on his behaviour, but the psychological effect it will have on the staff cannot be underestimated.” I believe I had already pointed out most of this previously. “I also want to make sure that you do not enjoy it so much that you get carried away.”

Manwë obviously does not know me as well as he thinks he does. In the past I have always known exactly when to stop and had the self control to do so. It is the precision of torture and the measure of reaction that I find so exciting. If I was carried away, I would fail to capture that point where hope of release turns into despair; I would not miss it for the world. That is the point where power meets with submission and is most intoxicating to the fëa of the one who weighs both states in his hand.

Manwë stood up and offered his hand. I had to kiss it as I am his slave. How that rankles within me. Still at least it isn’t Nienna’s fat little paw. I try to show no emotion as I do it, but he knows; he never misses anything. Life could be a lot worse and he has given me more than I ever expected to have; I tell myself that, whenever I have to abase myself to him, so that I do not feel so irritated about doing it.

After Manwë had done his usual disappearing into the ether act, I went into the garden and cut a replacement rose and put it in the vase with the others, after that I called a servant and ordered him to put the apple core in the waste and to polish the table. Some might think this a tad pedantic but standards have to be maintained. I insisted on absolute cleanliness in all my strongholds; it was enough having the smell of the orcs and uruk-hai wafting about, without the place looking a mess as well.

My Maglor was asleep, and there is nothing more that I love than to look upon his sleeping face. I thank the fate that shone in my existence in that moment and made me so blessed that I should capture the heart of the most beautiful elf who ever lived. How handsome he looked in repose. I gently kissed his soft lips and lay down beside him. “I love you,” I said softly, not meaning to wake him and snuggled up to his warmth. My arms wrapped around his form and I shut my eyes. He smelt of flowers, as all the truly good do. We are so unalike and yet we love with an overriding passion. I love him so much that I know I would die if anything happened to him. When I see him in the morning, my heart explodes with happiness that I have one so lovely to call my own. He is why I kiss Manwë’s hand and do all his bidding. My Maglor is too precious to lose; he is the light in my life and I am nothing without him. I never thought that I would be capable of love such as this. What I had with Melkor was a distortion; it was not love, but submissive weakness masquerading as such. I detest Melkor for denying me the chance to know what true love was like when I was his lover. He corrupted me and I fell for what I thought was his adoration of me. I am also to blame because I was willing and vain; there is a part of me that still detests myself for eagerly falling prey to his charms and wiles.

How different I am to the Maia who arrogantly demanded that he be sent through the Door of Night. I am not that person now. In all, I have been very lucky since being rescued from the void. I am a pragmatic person and know that I have it as good as it will ever get, at least for a very long time. With Maglor by my side it is like walking on air, and not the precipitously stony path that I once willingly trod. My life is much better now and I would change nothing.

There are worse things than kissing a Vala’s hand.

*****

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