(Note: this chapter is nothing but gore, and not important plotwise. Skip it if you'd rather not know how Thuringwethil spends several weeks killing her enemy.)
For a moment he just stared at me. Then he turned his head away.
'There is nothing you can do that would be worse than what has already been done to me.'
'How so?' I asked.
'They cut off my wings!'
Indeed, he was wingless.
'That is only just. You tore Fanian's wings to shreds.'
'Just? You believe in justice?'
'I am the only justice you will ever have. My justice is a thousand-fold revenge of everything you did. I will break you to pieces.'
I had the valaraukar hang him by his wrists in the middle of the ceiling, just high enough that his feet did not touch the ground. They chained weights to his feet so that he would not be able to kick. I began with small pains - whipping, flesh wounds, salt in the wounds. A strong man like that could last for weeks, until he resembled nothing like a slab of salted meat. I was in no hurry. And I made him talk.
'Why did you do it?'
'She was beautiful. She aroused me.'
At that, I put out his eyes with my fingernails. No more would beautiful sights arouse him.
'Ho did it feel when you knew you were hurting her?'
He remained silent.
'Answer me!' I cut his bicep with a saw-edged blade, slowly, back and forth, back and forth.
He wailed in pain and began to speak:
'So sweet, so little, I was certain she would die, so lovely, so afraid, so little, so tight, perfect, sweetness, all mine.'
'Then why did you let her go?'
'She wouldn't get far, not with her wings torn. I was going to come back. I was going to hunt her under the trees, cry out knowing she would shudder in terror at the sound of my voice… but you were there, you found her first, and you carried her away.'
'I see.'
For a while I was silent, knowing he waited in terror for my next attack. I chose another blunt, jagged blade and began a slow treatment of his genitals. I castrated him bit by bit, letting him bleed and scream as much as he could.
Finally I was bored with his voice. I flapped my wings and rose to the level of his head. Then I wrapped my leg around his mutilated chest. He opened his mouth to scream, but I surprised him with a kiss and bit off his tongue. For the first time I tasted his blood. It was not as strong as I had hoped, but nonetheless I thirsted for more. I reminded myself that he had already bled a lot - I wouldn't want him to die too soon. I mollified my hunger by chewing on his lips and ears and sucking the wounds dry.
Then I began the serious work. I used most of the tools in the room, and with the help of the valaraukar made his death a long and painful process. All in all I spent weeks with him in that room, his blood my only nourishment. At times I even fed him meat to make him last longer, and every day I cut off some small piece of him. Finally, when he was little more than a torso wrapped in bandages, no longer needing chains for he was totally unable to move, I cut open his stomach and took out most of his internal organs.
Then I just watched him die; now and then prodding what was left of him with one sharp tool or another. He was a strong man and lived for a day and night like that. Then he sighed one last time and was gone.