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This is yet another gruesome chapter!
Chapter 3: The Elvenking's Wrath
Down in the dungeons, the darkest and loneliest portion of the palace, the guards wasted no time in putting their prisoner on the rack. While they hated torturing even orcs, putting one of their own through such agony proved to be almost as painful for them as it was for Nulad. He stoically bore the pain of his arms and legs being stretched to their maximum, coming close to popping out of the joints. His muscles screamed as they were pulled to their maximum extension plus some, as though someone were trying to tear him in two by ripping him apart as an orc would strip a chunk of flesh from a lamb's leg with his teeth. After about thirty minutes, one of the guards became so distressed that he ran back upstairs to the throne room and knocked on the door. "King Thranduil?" he inquired.
"Come in," he growled and the elf timidly stepped inside.
"Please, your majesty, may we put our prisoner in his cell now? I think he has been through enough."
"No! I want that beast to pay for his crimes. He has caused me to suffer unbearable pain, so he must too undergo agonizing torture. If you aren't willing to do it, I shall go and take care of the matter myself. And while I'm at it, I shall relieve you of your duties. Have Fairion put you to work in some other portion of the palace. I cannot have weak guards within my ranks." The Elvenking's cornflower blue eyes darkened in his anger and the man cowered before him.
"Yes, your highness," he backed away and practically ran down the halls, very much embarrassed and chastised. He never wanted to face his ruler's wrath again!
Once the impudent elf left, Thranduil strode down to the dungeons. "What's this I hear about pitying my prisoner?" he demanded.
The remaining guards visibly shivered at his cold tone. "Sire, we simply thought that since Nulad is one of our own people, surely you would not want us to torture him all day. You never even do that to orcs!"
"This is an entirely different matter. Orcs at least kill relatively humanely. That elf, if you can even call him such, slaughtered my wife in cold blood! What else do you expect me to do with him? Slap his hand and tell him not to do it again? Really, if I let him go free, then others among us might think they can get away with huge crimes as well, and I will not have that in my kingdom. My people have suffered enough as it is."
They had no reply and simply stood there awaiting commands. Everyone understood he referred to the great battle long ago in the War of the Last Alliance of Elves and Men, in which both his parents had been killed. Their ruler hadn't been the same since; watching the gruesome slaughtering of his parents and two-thirds of his people had wreaked much havoc within him. It was rumoured that he hated to sleep because it brought back nightmares from that fateful day. Sometimes they would catch him gazing off into the distance with a look of deep sadness and remorse hidden within his cornflower blue portals. It was little wonder he took the death of his wife so harshly and everyone wished there was something, anything, that they could do to help their king.
The Elvenking walked over to the rack and peered into Nulad's face. "What do you have to say for yourself now?"
"Nothing, your majesty. I told you I was lost in thought as I passed your chambers, making up some poetry for the ladies." He retained his alibi and determined to never give it up.
However, Thranduil was not amused. "Take him to the next room and continue with the torture routine until he talks. Surely that will get something out of him," he commanded as he turned to leave.
That cell consisted of a tank of water, where the victim was repeatedly held under until he could no longer hold his breath. It seemed to work quite well to get information out of orcs; they loathe water and many times fear it, so they'd learn to talk rather quickly simply to stop their agonizing fear and pain.
However, Nulad, as a fighter, proved to be another sort of victim entirely. The guards winced every single time they lowered his head into the water. He'd feel himself plunging downward and quickly take a deep breath before his face met the icy water. The world seemed upside down and out of place as he lay there, and then his lungs would demand some fresh air, his chest hurting as though a million tiny daggers stabbed him, forcing him to release his breath as he fought for air. Then his mouth and lungs filled with fluid and he coughed and gagged, eyes popping open in panic as his body told him he was drowning. The water hurt his eyes and he squinted them shut, fighting to stay conscious. Once the guards raised him back into the fresh air, he could see their faces apologetically staring at him as he coughed and gulped fresh air back into his sore lungs. Every single dip they'd ask him if he was ready to tell them more, and each time he'd give the same answer: No.
Legolas proved to be extremely upset when he learned of his friend's capture. He stalked to the throne room but found it empty, so he then travelled to his father's new chambers. "Ada?" he asked forcefully as he pounded the door.
"No! I will not set him free! How dare you even think to ask such a thing?" Thranduil answered before the question he was sure would come, not in the mood for any kind of nonsense.
"Ada, I only wish to ask you why! I have already lost Naneth, and now you threaten to kill my best friend as well? You will slowly torture yourself to death with grief." The prince's heart had grown bitter and depressed. He had never really known death before; his grandparents died or sailed to the Undying Lands before he was born. He only had elven friends growing up, and most of them remained in Mirkwood, strong and healthy like any other of their fair race. Now, as he faced losing everyone dear to him, he came to the conclusion there was nothing he could do and things would only get worse from there. Besides, his father had now reverted even further into whatever horrid memories he had of his own parents' deaths, making him even harder to talk to.
Thranduil sighed, sensing Legolas's depressive state through the door. "Just go away! If you don't quit bothering me, I shall have to put you in the dungeons as well! In a cell, at the very least."
"Alright, Ada." His shoulders drooped as he dawdled away to his own rooms, hoping his cats would provide him some comfort. While he wanted to go and see his friend, he knew watching the ongoing torture would only make his mood even darker and he simply couldn't take any more of that.
O_O
Once again in the throne room, Thranduil knew something did not sit quite right as far as the situation with Nulad went. Why would someone who was that close to the Elvenqueen's only child murder her, knowing how much mother and son loved each other? Despite Fairion's misgivings, the Elvenking had always liked the young elf up until the point he interrogated him. Fairion! "Someone send for Fairion at once!" Thranduil bellowed, and within two minutes the man appeared in the doorway.
"Your highness?"
His greeting was met with a huge scowl. "Fairion, why do you think Nulad is the murderer?"
"I told you, I've never liked him and just sense something isn't right about him."
"Have you had his rooms searched? We need to locate the murder weapon immediately."
"I'll see that it's done right away."
"And before you go, I remember there were about thirty minutes that you were not by my side. Did you murder my wife?"
The second-in-command looked shocked, his eyes bulging with a pained look behind them. "Why would I do that? I have been close you both of you ever since you parents died and you became king. I loved Arabesque like a sister. You know that!" His eyes sadly gazed into the tormented ones of his beloved master.
"Alright. You are dismissed." The elf king almost looked defeated. Would justice ever be served? He never could fully satisfy his need for revenge on those who killed so many of his people many millenniums ago. It haunted him that there was nothing he could do, no way he could ever wipe out enough of the evil forces of Sauron to compel his wrath against Mordor.
After a thorough search of Nulad's chambers, the only knives he had were confiscated and carefully examined. However, nothing unusual showed up on them. Thranduil also had Fairion's chambers searched as a precaution, yet once again nothing showed up. The investigators realized that after over a week the killer had plenty of time to thoroughly clean his, or her, weapons and thus never be found. It frightened everyone to think that they had a murderer in their midst; would he strike again? If so, who would be the next victim? The Elvenking Thranduil himself? Or Legolas?
O_O
Clothed in a green tunic and trousers, the murderer sat dejected in his chambers. The only living beings he had ever killed had been orcs and other such enemies, as well as some fish for food from time to time. While he had grown to hate the Elvenqueen with a passion, killing her did not grant him the satisfaction he thought it would. He had thoroughly convinced himself that since the queen rarely complimented him on his stunning abilities to do absolutely everything, and the king was even worse in that he never complimented him at all, that having her gone would lead Thranduil to see what an amazing elf he was. Everyone else fed his intense need to be noticed, complimented, and upheld; why did his own ruler refuse to give him what he craved the most? Thranduil was always so busy spending time with his wife whenever he wasn't attending to kingly business, so the murderer assumed that getting her out of the way would help. But so far nothing had gone right!
Should he give himself up to the Elvenking? He shuddered, knowing if Thranduil ever found out he had slaughtered Arabesque, his life as he knew it would be over. After and extreme and agonizing amount of torture, the killer would be executed as an example to all. And facing the wrath of the Elvenking terrified even the bravest souls. His compliments were what the killer desired most, not wrath. No, he would never admit to his deed until the evidence came up against him. Evidence! No! He realized he had hidden the knife he used in the great hall, still stained with Arabesque's blood. It was surprising no one had smelled it yet; surely it would have an odour by now. Thankfully the knife was actually an orcish blade he had taken from the last goblin he'd killed. The Black Speech written on its handle had intrigued him, as well as the interesting curve of the blade itself. How would he get the dirk back, and once he had it in his hands how could he dispose of it?
O_O
Two days later, Thranduil stalked down to the dungeons. "Nulad, I will give you one last chance to tell me everything. Guards, release him and then leave us alone." The elves quickly obliged and took a much-relieved Nulad off the rack, then exited as they almost ran over each other trying to get out the door faster than the others. However, they remained huddled near the door once it closed behind the last elf, wondering what exactly their ruler was up to. His voice held such a menacing tone that they all jumped when he spoke, then stood trembling, unable to tear themselves away from the scene which was about to unfold.
"Well, what do you have to say for yourself?" The Elvenking glared.
"I told you I was wandering about composing poetry. I have done nothing wrong." The younger elf stoically bore the harsh interrogation, looking his ruler straight in the eye. However, Thranduil was still not convinced.
"How dare you stand there and lie to my face! If you did not slaughter my wife, who did?"
Nulad actually was very much aware of the identity of the killer and stayed silent, unwilling to reveal the secret and fearing the king's wrath on himself even if he was innocent.
"You have five seconds to tell me the truth!" Thranduil shouted, then stood with his cornflower blue eyes blazing into Nulad's. It brought back horrible childhood memories to the younger elf as he recalled his own father counting down the time until punishment when he'd disobeyed. "One. Two. Three. Four. Five!" the Elvenking's voice cut the air like a knife. "Well, do you have anything to tell me?"
"No, your majesty, I wish to tell you nothing."
"Fine! If that's how it's going to be…" The guards waiting outside the door winced as they heard him whip out his sword. Before the younger elf could say or do anything, the blade sliced through the air. In one smooth motion, Nulad's head fell to the floor and rolled a few feet from the body, blood squirting everywhere. Thranduil didn't even give a backward glance as he strode out of the room. "Dispose of the body," he ordered the shocked guards as he made his way back to his throne room. Such elves were utterly exasperating! But little did the Elvenking know that he had just put to death the only person who knew the murderer.
The guards murmured amongst themselves as they prepared to see the disaster which awaited them. It took a few minutes to work up the courage to even peek their heads in the doorway, dreading the scene that awaited them. While they were rather accustomed to a beheading occurring with their enemies, such as orcs, they had never seen or heard their king kill one of their own before. As if hearing about their beloved Elvenqueen being murdered wasn't bad enough, now their very own Elvenking had just killed someone, and Legolas' best friend at that.
"Poor Nulad," a guard commented. "I'm sure he knew something but was protecting someone. Now we'll never know who slaughtered our dear Queen."
"Let's keep this quiet as much as possible. Everyone is already nervous about a murderer running around in our midst, and knowing King Thranduil has taken to killing suspects will worry them even more," another pointed out.
"Yes. But Legolas has to know, if his father doesn't tell him…I don't want to be the one to do it. He's already too depressed over his mother as it is."
"I suppose we should give Nulad a proper burial, then I shall see to Legolas."
With that said, they walked into the cell to discover Nulad's body sprawled on the floor, blood pooled on the grey stone floor beneath the cadaver. Every single elf paled at the scene and stood in shocked silence. Finally, feeling quite sick, the guards cleaned up the mess the best they could and laid Nulad to rest in Mirkwood Forest, hoping fate would deal with him fairly in the afterlife.
A question from the author: Who do you think the murderer is? Is it Fairion, Nulad, or someone else? I just want to make things clear: Thranduil is not, I repeat, is not the murderer, which is why he has graciously been left out of the suspect list. However, all shall be revealed in the next and final installment!
