The Binds of Death have been Unwound by chrissystriped

The Binds of Death have been Unwound

For the Gnome Tome challenge prompt: ''they wandered as 'houseless' elf-souls … filled often with malice and envy''

Read The Binds of Death have been Unwound

He had feasted these past few days. Feasted on the prisoners that had come to them in the guise of orcs. The Master wanted to know their identity and intent, but so far none of them had spoken. Even though he’d taken his time eating them.

A small, old part of him felt bad about it. They were bound and helpless. It was not a fair fight. But the Master commanded and he obeyed — and the taste of their blood on his tongue still felt so satisfying.

There were only two of them left now. The Master wanted to keep their leader, the blond elf, for last, give him his own special treatment, if he didn’t talk after all of this, so he would dine on human flesh today.

He padded into the cell and saw the two prisoners tense. He went straight for the human, saw him grit his teeth as he felt his breath on his skin. He opened his maw… and whined as something crashed into him, making him lose his footing.

It was the elf, somehow having broken his bonds. The elf’s arms wrapped around his throat, squeezing with a strength he hadn’t expected. He thrashed around, his claws slicing through the elf’s skin. His heart was racing, panic flooding him.

His teeth clenched around some part of the elf, holding on for dear life. He’d felt more and more of himself be stripped away each time his body had died and suddenly he knew with all certainty that he’d not find himself again.

The cell echoed with sounds — screams and snarls and howls — as they fought and he did not know which one of them was making them. The blood was running from wounds in his skin, where the elf’s fingers had dug deep. And then there were teeth at his throat, ripping through fur and skin.

He felt the end coming, blackness enveloping him. Somehow it felt fitting that he should be ended by one of those he had hunted, he thought, as his consciousness slipped away. The elf had protected his friend. He could respect that. He wished he knew someone, who’d have done the same for him.

 

He’d expected not to wake again, but he did.

‘You are right, he was an elf — very long ago.’

The voice was soft and yet filled every part of his being. He tried to curl up, knowing instinctively that he could not hide anything from the one who’d spoken.

‘Why would you wish to help him? He killed you.’

‘As we were entwined in death, I felt his loneliness.’

He jerked as he realised that the second voice belonged to the elf he'd just killed.

‘He killed me and mine, but he was turned into this by the Enemy. I could not leave him behind.’

‘You are wrong. He refused the call and turned into a malevolent being, stealing the bodies of animals and hating all the Children. He turned himself into this even before he was found by Melkor’s servant.’

Long, long ago, he’d heard of the Valar and he realised he was in the presence of Námo, Lord of the Dead. He whimpered, scared of the judgement that would surely fall on him now.

‘I will take him in, as I vowed to do with every Child. His recovery will the slow, but it can be done, and that is thanks to you. It was kind of you to help him.’

‘I don’t know who you were in life’, the elf said to him then. ‘What was done to you that you felt such hatred for us that you joined the enemy of your own free will. If you ever are healed, I wish to talk to you. My name is Finrod Felagund, son of Finarfin.’

 

~*~*~

 

He bowed deeply when the prince entered the room.

“My lord”, he said, eyes cast down. “My name is Ninquelopo and I’m the one who murdered you.” He held his breath, shoulders tense.

“So you finally came”, Finrod said. “I often wondered. Please, sit.”

Ninquelopo obeyed.

“Will you tell me your story?”

“The least I can do is follow your request, my lord." Ninquelopo swallowed, the words not coming easily, even after being healed in Mandos. "I lived near Cuiviénen, I had not met Orome, when he came, only heard stories of him. The embassadors had left, when I was killed. It was an accident. I was hunting, alone, stepped into a rabbit hole and broke my leg. I starved. I did not follow the call. We had heard of Námo, but I was too afraid to follow into the unknown.

 

“I felt cold. The warmth had left me with the death of my hroa. My name was gone, as was everything else from when I’d been alive and warm. I was in a deep forest, I perceived the changing of the seasons, but I knew not how long I had been in this state, time did not matter to me. I was alone, and I was angry about that. There had been others like me, I remembered that. Where were they? Why had they left me?

 

“After a while, I realised, I could inhabit other living beings. It helped against the coldness. The wood was full of life. Squirrels, deer, wolves. I liked the wolves best. The fear of prey, the heat of blood on my tongue, warm meat sliding down my throat. I forgot, that I’d not always been a wolf — though the other wolves knew and shunned me. I was alone again — and then the animal died. It hurt. Another body lost. But I knew now how to do it, I could do it again.

 

“There were people in my forest. I looked at the crude huts they’d built with baleful eyes. They were not the same people that had left me behind, somehow I knew that. But still I hated them. Hated them for the happiness in their laughter. For the songs they sang at night around their fire. For being a family, when I was so alone. I killed the first of them I caught alone, his meat sweet on my tongue. Even sweeter were the tears the others cried for him.

 

“I felt a presence of something… other. I turned toward it, my hackles rising

'Look at you', it said with a grin. 'Did you do this all by yourself? What a clever wolf you are.'

I growled, readying myself to jump, but the other only laughed and… changed. I whined and shrank back from the huge wolf, black-furred and red-eyed, standing before me. I felt amusement from the other.

‘The Men tell me, there’s a beast in the woods that kills them’, it said into my head and I whined again. ‘I can feel your hate for them.’

I felt something — it — in my mind, sifting through my memories, and snarled at it. The answering chuckle reverberated in my head.

‘But you hate the others more. The ones who left you behind.’ It cocked its head. ‘Come with me and you’ll have a family of those like you. Come with me and you can kill as many elves as you want.’

I licked my lips. What would it want in return?

‘Your obedience', came the answer. ‘Your loyalty.’

I was afraid of it. I felt I could not trust it. But I longed for the flesh of those who’d left me. And I longed for family.

‘Done’, I thought and the other smiled.

 

“The Master gave me wolves’ bodies that became slowly bigger and stronger, until I had the size of a small horse and the elven thralls cowered in dread when I walked past. I relished their fear, even when I was not allowed to eat them. Sometimes I was given one that had displeased the Master, but it was not like a hunt, not like in battle, not as satisfying.

I had feasted well these past days…”

 

Ninquelopo ended his story and waited with bated breath for Finrod's reaction.

“So I was right: You were lonely. They left for Aman and your fea was left behind.” Finrod sighed and rubbed his forehead.

“Yes.” Ninquelopo answered, his voice throaty. “That was the beginning of it all. It is not an excuse for what I did. I’m so sorry, my lord. I killed many people I will never know the names of, but you I know and I wish to make amends. If you allow it, I would enter your service.”

Finrod nodded slowly. “I allow it, though I have to warn you. Edrahil, one of my men, is not going to forgive so easily.”

“It does not have to be easy.”

“Good.” Finrod offered him his hand and Ninquelopo kissed his signet ring. “You’ll have to earn your place, but I accept.” He smiled at him. “I’m glad I saved you.”

“Thank you.” Ninquelopo smiled shyly. “Without you, I’d be lost forever.”

Finrod nodded seriously. They both knew it to be the truth.