An Ongoing Research by Tyelca

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An Ongoing Research

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From her shadowy corner, Thuringwethil watched quietly as the prisoner was brought in. It was an Elf, similar to those she’d seen numerous times before, but not exactly the same. He was taller, for one, than most she’d seen, and fiercer, brighter. He did not cower before the mighty throne, nor did he avert his eyes when the rightful king of the earth gazed down at him. It was brave and foolish, and oh so interesting.

 

Thuringwethil could see the appeal of these Elves from Valinor, pampered and protected from all harm by the valar, and now ready to conquer the world. She had thought that their seclusion would have made them weak, fallible when faced with danger. She was now forced to reconsider her opinion: Valinor had turned these Elves into tempered steel, outwardly covered in silks and grandeur, but gritty and enduring inside. And she had heard of their pursuit of knowledge, their single greatest goal. She wouldn’t go so far as to say she felt a kinship with them, but she could definitely understand that drive.

 

After the prisoner was sent away, she allowed the shadows to release her and she moved forward into the white-hot gloom, an unearthly light produced by the innermost core of the mountains. The throne room was immense but she crossed the cavernous space in a few quick paces. Physical space had long since been an object of fascination to her, and she’d learned to manipulate it to her advantage.

 

“What did you think, my daughter?” her king asked her. His voice was casual as he stared to the passage the prisoner had been dragged away in. She bit her lower lip, a habit that strangely enough helped her gather her thoughts. She chose her words carefully.

 

“He was interesting,” she said honestly, “but I don’t think he will last long here. None of them ever do.”

 

Melkor looked at her for a few moments, then turned his terrible and intense gaze to his other side, where the Lieutenant positively basked in the attention. It pulled a small amused smile from Melkor’s lips, and Thuringwethil was not entirely sure it was voluntarily or controlled. But as much as she desired knowledge, this was one area she knew she shouldn’t poke in any deeper.

 

Knowledge was power, after all, and power attracted enemies. She kept most of what she knew studiously hidden; Melkor and his Lieutenant were among the few that were aware of the immense library and laboratory that was her mind. They used it when they needed it, and in return she was left in peace.

 

But she was interested, and if Melkor asked she would not deny. He didn’t ask, but she got the sense that he knew anyway. The Lieutenant shot her a sideway glance that she didn’t react to.

 

Melkor waved his hand and she was dismissed. She strode down the throne room, into the same passage the prisoner had been taken. She felt Melkor’s eyes burn into her back, but he did not stop her. She was allowed to satisfy her curiosity on the unspoken condition she would report all insights back to him. It was a fair trade, as far as she was concerned.

 

She easily caught up with the armed escort dragging the prisoner away. She kept behind them, though, floating noiselessly above the ground. It gave her an opportunity to study the Elf so similar yet different to those originating from these shores. She wondered how much of it was due to Valinor, and how much was upbringing and simply character, or if there was a difference between those factors at all. He radiated an inner calm, a poise, that she had seen in few before. But she could just as easily see the aggravation, the frustration and the anger. It did not seem to be directed at anyone in particular right now.

 

Thuringwethil stretched out her senses to get a better read on him. The anger was mainly focused on himself, with a large, diffused part also pointing at Melkor. Well. That was to be expected. But she couldn’t discern why he seemed to place the majority of the blame on himself. But there was enough time to find out. He would remain here for a long time yet.

 

And once she had unraveled all the mysteries of his person, she would learn all she could about Valinor. Secondhand knowledge was better than no knowledge, after all.

 

Sometimes she wished she were in Valinor, but then she remembered why she wasn’t right now. She had made her choice long ago; Valinor was stagnant, as every place the Valar had called their home had been. Content to simply observe the world around without any desire to know why or how; Thuringwethil had endured their meaningless existence as long as she could abide by it. Then she’d made the choice she had always known she would make, and left. She wasn’t ashamed nor did she regret it; she sometimes only wished things didn’t have to be so divided. That Valinor didn’t believe in progress did not mean they had nothing worth knowing.

 

Thuringwethil spent the next days with the prisoner, sometimes asking him questions, sometimes just observing him. She took what she needed, but did so without causing excessive or unnecessary harm. He was aware of her now, and though he had at first radiated suspicion, he had slowly relaxed around her, deemed her presence and her questions harmless. Foolish little boy. She could crush him without touching him a single time, if she so desired. Knowledge was power.

 

But she didn’t. She would get nothing more out of him once he clamped up. Angband was not a place for second chances. That was another thing she’d learned early on. Deception was inacceptable and deceit was punishable by death. It was the only way to keep a fortress of such dimensions under control.

 

Thuringwethil had always been an honest person, not seeing any need to lie when the truth was so much simpler. That didn’t mean she had never been dishonest when it suited her better, but she knew that in the end, the truth always came out, especially in a place like Angband. And if it didn’t, then it was because the parties involved were dead. In her experience it had ever been this way.

 

She was content to be fascinated by the Elf and would have remained by his side for much longer had he not in someway displeased Melkor, who ordered him removed from the dungeons to another, undisclosed location. The Lieutenant knew where, but Thuringwethil did not ask. Unlike her, the Lieutenant thrived on lies and she did not trust him not to point her falsely. He had no single reason to do such a thing, but he loved his carefully controlled chaos, now and then. The Lieutenant was one of those few creatures that Thuringwethil could not pinpoint. She supposed it had something to do with being a shapeshifter, but that was just an unconfirmed theory.

 

And the prisoner was not so interesting she would go through all the trouble dealing with the Lieutenant would entail. She reported her conclusions to Melkor and then left the matter to rest. There were other projects waiting for her.