Chapter 20
Elaenar had observed his prisoner's busted lip when he had held the orc against a tree, even though at the time he hadn't cared and barely noticed. He was reminded of it when he looked down and saw a dried trail of blood that traced from the orc's upper lip down to his chin. It was only then that the elf wondered how this injury had occurred (but he didn't ask). Elaenar had at least enough decency to attend to that busted lip before throwing him back into his prison cell. He escorted Snaga to the same room where he had dressed the burns on his shoulder. As soon as they entered Snaga spoke:
"Am I free to go?" The orc asked, his voice catching in his throat. He was still shaking.
"No!" Elaenar said assertively, as if the request were nothing short of absurd. He had no patience for this.
Snaga looked shocked.
"B-but I did everything you told me to do…" He stammered.
Elaenar exploded. "You are not free to leave! And don't ask me again!"
Snaga stood there in complete and utter shock, looking like someone had poured a bucket of ice water over him naked. After a moment of stunned thinking, the orc did something truly desperate. He got on his knees and begged. He started sputtering and pleading to be let go. It was so pathetic and repulsive to Elaenar that he roared:
"Stop it! Get up, get off your knees! Enough of this!" He shouted. "I am not letting you go no matter how much you beg. And nothing you say can change my mind, you sniveling, pathetic little creature!"
But the orc didn't get up. "Please, I'll do anything" He begged; he looked up at the elf tormentor and said, with tears in his eyes,:
"I'll-I'll (he choked on his own words) I'll s-s-suck you."
"What did you say?" Elaenar snarled, not understanding his meaning, not even sure of exactly what he had heard the little orc say. But instead of a verbal response, Snaga's actions made his meaning very clear. Already on his knees and at face level with his crotch, Snaga nuzzled the elf and began working at the drawstrings of his trousers. Elaenar was beyond horrified. He felt a fiery surge of overwhelming disgust and contempt like he had never felt before.
"Stop it!" Elaenar screamed. He slapped Snaga across the face. The orc instantly collapsed to the ground on all fours.
"You utterly depraved, little fucking wretch!" He screamed. "You're a sick, twisted creature down to the very depths of your filthy soul!" Elaenar carried on in that manner and berated him mercilessly; in his passionate tirade, Elaenar hurled some of the most hateful words he had ever spoken in his life.
Snaga shuddered as the towering elf viciously excoriated him. Snaga crumpled under the weight of unbearable shame and terror, his shoulders heaved, he started to sob, and was quickly seized with a fit of dyspnea. Elaenar watched in horror as his prisoner convulsed with hysterical breathing, shaking, and sobbing. As a veteran soldier, Elaenar recognized all too well the symptoms of a nervous break (he had suffered one or two of his own during his hellish wartime experiences). Elaenar instantly regretted his outburst; he had gone too far.
"Enough, enough, enough! I'm sorry, I won't hurt you. Hush now, it's alright." To no avail, he pleaded with the orc slave to calm down.
Elaenar's vicious, abusive tongue transitioned into spewing comforting words and reassurances; practically beseeching him to stop crying. Elaenar positioned him to sit upright, against the wall. The cut on his upper lip began to bleed freely again; Elaenar tried to dab at it with a wet cloth but Snaga shrieked and kicked and refused to let himself be touched.
Elaenar did the only thing that he could think to do: he forced the hysterical, miserable little creature to swallow all of the remaining drugs he had left in his pocket, which had a very quick effect, and in a few minutes Snaga's demeanor began to get steadier as the hysteria ebbed away. Elaenar decided that now was the time to tell him the truth.
"That orc was already dead when I mutilated him, I would never do that to you, I swear it! I only wanted to scare you so that you would obey me; don't you see?".
Snaga didn't respond, but Elaenar detected a flicker of comprehension in his eyes (although it did nothing to calm him down and seemed to give him little reassurance). Only just then did it occur to Elaenar what a mistake it was to bring Snaga to the very same room where they had first tortured their orc prisoner. He considered what frightening implications it must have had on Snaga to be returned to this room where he had been stripped, bound and burned.
The drugs that Elaenar had given Snaga had three times the effect that they would have had on himself (since the orc was a third of his body weight and size). He seemed in a trance and completely unaware of the world around him; he didn't respond when being spoken to and didn't seem to hear anything said to him. He stared straight ahead as Elaenar wiped the blood off of his face and applied a sealant to his bleeding lip. Snaga was barely conscious and didn't respond when Elaenar goaded him to stand up and walk, so Elaenar was forced to pick him up and carry him back to his dank cell. He murmured incomprehensible gibberish as Elaenar hoisted him up off the ground. As the elf laid his barely conscious body on the cold, stone floor, Elaenar realized that he could, at the very least, provide their prisoner with a military cot just like what the rest of the soldiers here slept on. He returned with one of their standard, cheap, foldable bed frames and then returned again with an army-issued mattress to place on top of it. There was no sense in urging Snaga to get into bed; he was so drugged up he would stay subdued for hours. In one last act of compassion, Elaenar picked up his limp body and put him to bed before leaving and closing the door.
