After his first night of good sleep in a long time, Erestor awoke with a restless feeling. He sat up and blearily noted that Anglin was still in bed with covers drawn up and pillow cradled in his arms. Until now, Erestor had not seen a blessing in the death of everyone he dearly loved, but as he walked to the private bath chamber and wondered how Anglin’s wife was coping with the capture of her husband, Erestor began to think that despite the pain he felt it was perhaps all for the best that those he knew no longer suffered in any way.
A bath refreshed him, even though the water was chilly, he minded little. Combing his mangled hair was time-consuming, but he was glad to have heeded Rog’s advice when the first demons were seen in the red dawning skies. It came just about to the middle of his back, and shone now in the light coming through the window, brown highlights accenting black – and every now and then, the most subtle hint of silver. “Thanks, Nana,” he mumbled as he separated one of these rare errant strands away from the rest. Even with wounds yet healing, he knew his appearance was striking as he looked over himself in the ovular mirror that hung on the wall. He had not always thought so, not always cared, but Glorfindel had somehow helped him find what vanity he had. “This has got to go,” he said to himself again as he ran his fingers back towards the root of the unwanted silver hair.
“Leave that be,” spoked up a voice that startled Erestor. The elf turned to see his captor standing there, in the second doorway that led out into the hall. Verdev was leaned upon his cane, the tiger who was all-too-familiar to Erestor sitting calmly beside her master. “Good morning.”
Erestor looked about as he let go of the temporarily pardoned strand, expecting to see other orcs. There were none. “I suppose.”
“I have a present for you.”
It was then that Erestor noticed that Verdev’s hands were behind his back. For a moment, he considered lunging for the sword at Verdev’s side, or even for the orc’s throat. It was possible he might be able to tear it out with his bare hands, or possibly break his neck. There were stories of what Finrod had once done with shear will and no weapons. On the other hand, he was ill-prepared to deal with any other orcs that might be in the house in the lower level or that might show up when their leader did not return. And, there was the tiger, who set her fiery eyes upon him and dared him to do what he wanted. So instead, Erestor asked, “Whatever for?”
“For being a good pet and staying where I left you last night. I thought for certain one of you would foolishly try to run away.” He paused. “By one of you, I mean you.”
“I got that feeling.”
Verdev nodded down the hallway. “Wake the others, and come downstairs.”
Although he did not like the idea of turning his back on the orc, Erestor did so in order to return to the bedrooms. He stopped in the closest one, which was being used by Thrangorn and Eliel. Both of them were already awake, so he simply told them what Verdev had said, even though it appeared from the nodding that they had heard much of the conversation already. Then he went to the next room, where Saeldan was already up and about, exploring the room. Saeldan set to waking Ardinir so that Erestor could return to the room he was sharing with Anglin.
Erestor strolled past his bed, which was closer to the door, and stopped beside the other. For a few moments, he paused to watch Anglin sleeping. If he stood just far enough away, and squinted just a little, it was almost as if...
“Is something the matter?” questioned Anglin sleepily.
“No, Glorf...erm, uh.. .no. Nothing. Uh...” Erestor closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead while Anglin sat up. “Verdev. He, uh, wants us to go downstairs. He brought something for us. Said he has a present or something.”
“Oh, I can hardly wait,” said Anglin in a voice that rather said he could. He shoved the blankets off, revealing the fact that he was wearing only leggings just as Erestor was. “Is he requesting formal attire, or do you think we can go like this?”
“He did not say,” replied Erestor.
Anglin frowned. “I think I shall chance it,” he decided, though he did find a robe hanging from a doorknob and slipped it over his shoulders as they made their way down the staircase.
Verdev was sitting on the largest of the chairs in the parlor. Across the room, the other four elves were already assembled. Erestor and Anglin joined them, and then waited for Verdev’s explanation.
There was a small package in his lap, which his fingers stroked as if it were a cat or a tamed rabbit. Lounged on the floor, flicking her tail, the tiger kept a keen watch on all of the elves, making their skin crawl. Orcs were one thing, but tigers, especially those who had tasted blood as this one surely had, were no trifle matter. “I appreciate finding all of you here this morning,” he began, his eyes falling first on Erestor, and upon Anglin after that. “I thought I might surprise you with a small gift fit for pets of such distinction.”
The brown paper was unfolded, and as the sheet fell open, the items within it jingled against each other. “It just so happened that we found the shop of a cordwainer, and in his stock he possessed a number of finely crafted collars and leashes for hounds and hunting cats. I hope that my guesses of sizes were accurate; it would be a shame if you could not all have one.” The collars were brightly dyed, and Verdev selected the indigo one from the pile. “Erestor?”
Stomach knotted, Erestor shifted uneasily where he stood against the wall. “What?” He began to regret the decision to not lunge at Verdev when he had had the chance.
“Come over here.” The hypnotically issued command was hesitantly followed. “Turn around,” said Verdev once Erestor was standing in front of him. “Now kneel.”
Erestor did so, his gaze flittering about. He found that his companions were all carefully finding other places to focus on. The leather strap was brought down in front of him, and drawn back. It curled around his neck, and was drawn up tightly against his throat as the end was threaded through the buckle. Verdev set the pin into one of the holes and let the leather relax. After examination, the orc decided to adjust his work. The leather was pulled back, only to be tightened once more. This time, the edges dug into Erestor’s skin, but once the buckle was adjusted and Verdev let go, the collar fit snuggly but not uncomfortably around his neck. Verdev spent a little time arranging Erestor’s hair to make sure it was not caught, and then straightened out the heavy metal disk attached the front of the collar. “Anglin is next,” said Verdev while he stroked Erestor’s hair in a way that made the elf feel degraded and whorish.
Each of the elves in succession was given the same treatment. Anglin was given one which was amber, ‘to compliment his hair’, while Eliel’s was red, and ‘appropriate for a lady’. Saeldan’s was orange, and Ardinir’s green. When Thrangorn was gifted with his, it was very somber, for his was black. “Black suits you, my pet,” decided Verdev as he spent longer with Thrangorn than the rest. The butler looked positively miserable as he knelt on the floor and stared at his folded hands while the mangled hand of the orc ran through his long, straight hair and sometimes stroked his cheek and neck.
“From now on, you have two additional rules to follow. First, you are not allowed to remove these fine gifts without permission from me.” Verdev gave Thrangorn’s head a final pat before he stood up. “The second rule is, before you sleep in your beds, you will bathe. Beds should not be filthy, but they will be if you crawl into them after working and playing all day long. After you are clean, there will be no reason to put clothes on to simply go to bed. Therefore, you will not need them – but – you will be expected to leave your collars on. There will be no exceptions.”
“You wish for us to bathe with our collars on?” questioned Anglin. “How are we to wash our necks?”
“Your neck will not be dirty because your collar will protect it,” answered Verdev without the slightest pause. “And now, if there are no more silly questions, I must leave my dear pets for now. There is much for me to do today.” He petted Eliel’s head on his way to the door, tiger on his heels, and then left, leaving the brown paper on the floor by the chair.
“Show of hands – who else feels like they need a bath now?” asked Ardinir. Most of them laughed uneasily, while Thrangorn and Eliel just gave shrugs of discomfort. “Is it me, or is he more than a little perverse?”
Erestor might have had something to say about that, but his mind was racing through ideas on how to be rid of the collar without facing Verdev’s wrath. He could feel the damned thing every time he swallowed, every time he breathed. Nothing, not being banished from Doriath, not being whipped by Turgon, nothing had been so degrading before as to cause him to feel tears pricking his eyes. He left the others in the main room and escaped with his shame into the kitchen.
“It has nothing to do with any sort of sexual perversion,” said Anglin, watching Erestor leave, but not following. “It is a psychological thing.”
“How so?” wondered Saeldan.
“He is trying to break us,” said Eliel.
Ardinir, who had also watched Erestor leave, whispered, “He may have already succeeded.”
Anglin slid his fingertip just underneath the leather band in an attempt to loosen it. “Verdev sees this as an assertion of power. When you bathe, you become more aware of things. The awareness heightens your senses. So, you are naked – and then, if you put clothing on, you are bombarded by the feel of it, and the smell of it, and all of that, so your senses dull. If you put nothing on, nothing but the collar... you feel it. You smell it. You hear it, hear the clink of this stupid metal thing,” he said as he batted the one that hung from his collar. “You know he owns you. You feel owned. He wants that.”
“I hate him.” It was Thrangorn who spoke, still on the floor. Eliel leaned over and touched his shoulder to try to offer comfort. Thrangorn’s face was pale, and his expression forlorn. “I have always had a master, but never one so cruel.”
Unforgivable by Zhie