Dark Judgement 29

Dark Judgement

Part 29 - Making Headway

Posted: October 3, 2008

*****

Erestor lay strapped to the bed; he was not very happy and treated me to a rather ubiquitous stream of invective.

“You will never get out of here unless you cooperate,” I said. “Only this morning I advised Glorfindel to make a new life for himself when I saw him in the town. I told him that you are irredeemable.” That was a lie, but it is absolutely right that Erestor stops being so complacent about what lies outside for him when he is free. If there is no fear of loss then there will be no reason for him to change.

“You lie,” he yelled at me. “You are nothing but a filthy, evil hearted liar.”

“You compliment me.” I smirked.

“Glorfindel would never talk to you; he hates you as all the elves do.” Erestor made an amusing attempt at struggling against the bonds that held him to the bed.

“You do not hate me,” I replied.

“Yes, I do,” he screeched. “I hate you more than anyone.”

“How can you hate me when you have spent the whole of your life trying to emulate me?” I asked, and I felt that it was a fair question.

“I have never tried to be like you,” he shouted at me and aimed a stream of spit in my direction. I stepped aside and it hit the wall.

Sitting behind him, I held his head in my hands and he shook his head furiously to try and shake me off. “Let me see,” I said, trying not to laugh. “You are guilty of murder, infanticide, killing of an elfling, deception, torture, poisoning, stabbing, firing high speed projectiles at men’s bodies so that it kills them...”

“You mean firing bullets, fuckwit,” Erestor scorned.

I continued with the list. “Extortion, blackmail, garrotting, rape, genocide in one instance, gassing, drowning, animal cruelty, causing madness, starvation, clubbing, stoning, treason, sexual violence, entrapment, endangerment, throwing acid...any you would like to add?”

“Suffocation, strangling, electrocution, burning, boiling, hanging, death by vacuum, beheading...” Erestor grinned. “I have a far greater repertoire than you.”

“No you don’t,” I replied. “You have never practised cannibalism. I have eaten elf. When Melkor defeated Fingolfin we had fillets of him on toast before releasing his body.”

“Technically you are Maia, so it is not cannibalism for you. You got it wrong again,” Erestor sneered.

“It matters not,” I smiled. “I have tasted elf and you haven’t.”

“Whoopee-doo for you,” Erestor said in a tone he hoped was sarcastic.

“So, anyway, I am thinking of making friends with Glorfindel,” I said. “He was most amenable in the town. Elrond has given me rather a good character reference and he has abandoned his dislike of me, it seems. Wouldn’t it be extremely delicious if Maglor and I invited him to tea? I might let him do a tour and he could see the squalor you have chosen to live in. Of course, I would then have to say that your situation was irredeemable.”

Erestor exploded with rage and so I took the advantage of this loss of control to grip his head and send him to sleep. I have decided to remove the memories of his violence towards others; there are so many that it will take a long time but he has immortality and so do I, so it is not unachievable.

How interesting! Erestor was a passenger in a high speed horseless chariot; I believe Manwë called it a car, and it crashed. Since then his violence has been much less prevalent than it was before. Maybe it was the time it took for him to recover or maybe it was because of brain damage. I do not have the time to explore what it might be, that can wait for another day. This afternoon, I would be removing the learning and knowledge of some of his fighting techniques. Probing around in his thoughts, I found the root of the fighting techniques; delving further revealed that he went to several countries in a part of Middle-earth he calls, ‘the Far East’ and learned several different styles of fighting. What I am going to do is to take one place of learning at a time, remove the memories and replace them with other thoughts. There are several disciplines of fighting that Erestor learned in a place called Japan. It will take a couple of hours to sift through the root thoughts and genesis of his learning but if I succeed then he might not try and kick me as soon as I walk through his door. It is terribly tedious being attacked whenever I walk into his room; I could be enjoying his total obedience and compliance instead.

After three hours I am tired; however, all the teaching Erestor received in Japan is erased from his memory now. I have replaced it with Japanese techniques of flower arranging, bento box design and Mah-jongg, the four winds game which, apparently, Erestor played all the time. He was never very good at it though, so he should be happy with the new skill level I have given him. I made him a master in all three disciplines so that he positively insists on following his new interests. I have also given him a love of tidiness and cleanliness; I am looking forward to taking him back to his smashed up rooms.

I doubt whether I have changed Erestor at all, except that he will use alternative fighting techniques but the mess in his room should drive him to distraction. One grabs small pleasures where one can, and also with both hands. I have removed from his memory all the times when he smashed up his room, just in case the memory jogs the other ones back into existence. One has to be very careful to remove all the threads leading to and from a former behaviour.

Erestor was still asleep when I deposited him back in his bedroom. I was not about to wait around to see how he would react to all the ruined furniture when I could be spending time with Maglor instead. Walking through the house, I called his name and found him in the kitchen with the cook. She was busy stacking small logs into a portable stove and stuffing small bits of material and thin pine branches in-between.

“Are we having a barbecue again?” I asked, and the cook replied that Maglor had ordered one.

“I am going to catch a huge fish,” he said, “and then we can eat it. I have loads of picnic foods in this basket and a bottle of wine.” He handed the basket to me and picked up the stove.

“You haven’t caught the fish yet,” I said.

“You can do that waving your hand and making one appear.” Maglor grinned.

“Isn’t that cheating?” I raised an eyebrow in question, not that I care a jot about cheating; it is an admirable quality if done by me.

“What do you care?” Maglor laughed. “You have always done it.”

“One does not expect an elf to cheat,” I replied and put my arm around his shoulders. “You know how I like consistency.”

“Ha!” Maglor chuckled. “I am an ion of Fëanor. I reserve the right to go against the grain.”

“I am glad you are not one of those wishy washy do-gooders,” I said and really meant it. One of the things I love about Maglor is that he has killed many and showed no mercy in his past. Of course there was that aberration with Elrond and Elros but I blame his half-witted brother Maedhros for that; for a number of years he led my only one astray. There was also the period where he felt guilty about his past, but all elves have innate compassion, so after a time it was to be expected I suppose; however, it is not a desirable trait in anyone. I have only ever felt guilt for one thing and that is for my torture of Maglor, because I love him and for no other reason; it passed extremely quickly though. I admit that I would still happily torture elves if I could, but never my Maglor, he is different and too high in my favour and love, for that to ever apply to him. He ran through the sea with his bamboo rod, from which hung a length of string with a sausage tied to the end. I sat on the beach laughing at his antics. I waved my hand like he expected me to and suddenly a big fish grabbed the sausage in its mouth and Maglor speared it with the arrow in his other hand. Part of the game for him is wondering when the fish is going to appear.

We sat down and had our picnic whilst the fish cooked on the portable stove. Anor dipped below the horizon and sent her red evening glow up into the sky, ready to be lit by Ithil from behind us. We sat on the beach and buried our toes in the sand and looked out over the dark sea.

“We have the best of days, don’t we?” Maglor said as he slipped his hand into mine.

I smiled, and then turned to kiss him. “Yes, Meleth, we do.”

*****

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