“Now what are you going to do with him?” The question was posed by Ecthelion, who on this night was not as drunk as he often was this late in the evening. “He will finally be fifty as of tomorrow—“
“Fifty-two,” corrected Glorfindel.
Ecthelion looked confused. “You told me he was forty-one when he arrived.”
“I told you that, but he was actually forty-three. I did not want you to think that I lacked self-control, which obviously, you believe I do,” said Glorfindel. They were in Glorfindel’s private den where the best liquor of the house was kept, though only Ecthelion was drinking. “He is fifty-two now, and yes, Ecthelion, still a virgin.”
“Well, at fifty-two, I hardly care what he is,” he replied. “I suppose the nasty whispers that you only decided to mentor him so that he might be added to your collection later were completely false.”
“Erestor is old enough to make his own choices.”
“You dart around the questions well,” commended Ecthelion with a raise of his glass. “So, when do you intend to introduce him to society so that he might go courting?”
“Never.” Glorfindel leaned back, his hands threaded together behind his head, and he looked up at the ceiling. “When I first laid eyes upon him, I was sure that had he been of age I might have made different terms. Now, I know I want him, but I want him to come to me. Not because I ask it of him – but because he desires it.”
“Just how do you expect that to occur?”
“Oh...” Glorfindel smiled and tilted his head back down to look at Ecthelion. “I have my ways.”
- - -
There were many rooms in the great House of the Golden Flower, and many doors and locks to keep those rooms from being seen by the casual guest. Even Erestor, who had lived here now for nearly a decade, had not seen all of the rooms in the house. Now and then, he might notice a door ajar, and sometimes curiosity would get to him and he might press his ear upon it or look through the keyhole, but always he worried about being caught. He never had been, so the consequences were unclear, and yet he continued to sneak peeks into places he was not invited.
Tonight, as he went from his room to the library, he found that the path he normally took was blocked due to a spill on the carpet by a clumsy maid. He would never know that it was completely staged. “Oh, young master Erestor, I am so sorry,” said the maid with a polite curtsey. “You cannot come this way; your slippers will be soiled! Where are you going to?”
“The library. I can step around it,” he offered, but the maid blocked the way with her hands outstretched.
“No, no, we must not take the chance! I know a different route – take those stairs down, and the go left. You will find another set of stairs that will take you up and around this mess.”
Erestor was not terribly fond of the basement – he often heard odd noises there, and swore that there had to be a hidden dungeon (every parent in Gondolin warned their children that each lord had a dungeon in his basement for punishing bad children – some of the parents even believed their own tale). He intended to hurry through to his destination so as not to learn the truth, but one of those doors that was usually closed was open. Instead of being slightly open or halfway open, it was all the way open, and Erestor crept towards it slowly.
He paused when he heard voices and sound coming from within, but only for a second. He vowed that he would only take a peek, just a little glimpse, and then be on his way. That was not how it turned out.
A glance turned to a stare as he gawked in the doorway. First, he had no idea how so many people had gone unnoticed by him in the house – he guessed over fifty from what he initially saw. Most noticeably, most were naked or in some state of undress. He had little fear of anyone in the room noticing him or hearing him, for they were all very much concentrating on what they were doing.
One section of the wall across the room was decorated with a variety of paddles, whips, riding crops, and other devices that looked to have seen their fair share of use. Another section of wall was decorated with three people, each of them standing with their legs spread out, and their arms as well. Their wrists were attached to metal cuffs that dangled from chains embedded in the wall. All three were blindfolded. Standing nearby and moving between the three lazily was a masked person whose task it was to attach rings and clips and weighs or to tighten or move what was already attached. The three were gagged as well, and could only squirm or make muffled noises as the time passed and they were each tended to in turn.
There were six people bolted to the floor, their wrists and ankles held immobile by mithril cuffs. They were on their hands and knees, with their faces hidden by masks. A small stool that was long but not wide was positioned under the stomach of each, keeping their rear elevated. Behind each one was a long rod on a beam that came up from the floor, and the rods were angled in such a way as to penetrate them from behind. Erestor watched as another masked person stood behind the group and pulled back a lever that came up from the floor. The rods all simultaneously moved forward, and in synch six groans came from that part of the room. The person at the lever pushed it forward again, and the rods slid back out. At varying times, the lever was pulled and pushed, those bolted to the ground at the mercy of their tormentor, who decided at one point to pull the lever and lock it with a bolt. He then went to the wall and selected a flogger, which he used at his leisure on those on the ground.
It was what was at the center of the room that was most eye-catching. Built in the middle of everything else was a carousel like one might see during the days leading up to Tarnin Austa. Instead of carved wooden horses to ride on with mules pulling the ride around, each space on the carousel was held by a person. Some were made up to look like horses, with tails inserted to flow down and hair swept back like manes. Others were different creatures: wolves, eagles, deer, bears, and cats. The poles were still present to keep them in place, but one came up for each from the floor, anchoring them all, while only some contended with a pole above them, lips firmly wrapped around end of the hard length. It was up to a group of eight men – all clad only in hoods to cover their head – to keep the carousel moving, and the makeshift animals upon it moving up and down as they went. They were at the center, pushing the giant device around and around and around and it altogether was making Erestor’s head spin.
“Erestor? Are you lost?”
The sound of his benevolent master awoke Erestor from his curiosity, and he stepped away from the doorway, startled and ashamed. “I... uh... I was on my way to the library...”
“Were you?” Glorfindel approached from nowhere, having awaited unseen in the shadows for the proper moment, and set a hand upon his shoulder. “It appears you are lost. This is not the library.”
Erestor blushed. “I know.”
Instead of scolding him or leading him away, Glorfindel kept his hand on Erestor’s shoulder and began to walk to the room. This caused Erestor to walk beside him, past the doorway and right into the room this time. “Perhaps you might learn something here not found in books. Do you know where you are standing?”
“Not really.” Erestor attempted to keep his eyes upon the ground modestly, but found himself ever looking at something or someone as his fidgeting hands found their way into his pockets.
“Give it a guess. There will be no penalty if you are wrong.”
Erestor swallowed hard. They were in the basement, there were devious devices spread about the room, and the lack of windows and abundance of chains put one word in his mind. “Is this your dungeon?”
Glorfindel smiled. “I never really think of it in that manner, but many others do. This is my... sanctuary. These,” he said as they passed by one of the people chained to the floor and patted their hooded head, “are my pets. Temporarily.”
“Where do you keep them when they are not here?” asked Erestor, for he had no recollection of so many people staying at the house all at once.
“I believe they go home, wherever that happens to be for each of them.” Glorfindel took the flogger from one of the participants, and flicked it across the back of someone suspended from the ceiling. He then turned it around and used the hard handle to tease the puckered opening of the chained one’s backside. “Come. Let us find that library you were looking for.” Glorfindel led the way back out of the room, taking a long, scenic path that brought them between and very close to a number of moaning, writhing bodies, strapped or chained in place, at the mercy of their masters. By the time they were in the hallway, Erestor’s face was colored crimson, but Glorfindel did not remark upon it.
The library was exactly where it always was, the directions given by the maid accurate. Erestor lit numerous candles and placed them in the area he intended to do his reading. Glorfindel took a seat upon a large leather chair near to the lit fireplace – odd, for the library was deserted (as Glorfindel had requested of his staff, knowing Erestor’s daily habits). He watched as Erestor nervously selected a few items from the shelves and brought them to the table. As he was about to sit down, Glorfindel spoke. “Come, sit with me, Erestor.”
The young elf nearly dropped the books he held. “Yes, sir.” He set them down carefully and then came over to the fireplace. There was another chair opposite to where Glorfindel sat, and Erestor lowered himself down onto the edge of the seat.
Glorfindel waited a little while. He watched Erestor out of the corner of his eye. Erestor stared at the fire, perhaps afraid to look at Glorfindel, perhaps embarrassed, or maybe it was a little of both. Finally, Glorfindel spoke. “A long time ago, when Gondolin was founded, crime was much too common. It was petty, really. A theft here, vandalism there, a fight now and again, but all together they added up. Turgon was not willing to have his kingdom sullied by such nonsense, and so he appointed his most trusted friends as captains, to be lords over smaller parts of the whole. We each had our own way of dealing with the nuisances. Some built stocks, still in use today. Others constructed prisons, which have since been increased in size as the population has risen. Yet a few more preferred fines as a penalty.”
Now and then, Erestor would look up at Glorfindel as he listened to the story. “What would have happened to my father if he had been unable to pay his debt?”
“Well, now, that was not stealing. Your father entered into a bad agreement. Lord Salgant attempted to mediate the best way he could.”
“What would have happened to him?” Erestor’s gaze was intent. “I was a child when it happened, but no longer. I was, in a way, part of the bargain that released him, was I not?”
Uncertain how to answer, Glorfindel said nothing.
“I think I am old enough to know now what would have happened. If he had been unable to pay, what would have happened to him?” asked Erestor again.
Glorfindel sighed. “Lord Salgant prefers monetary penalties. When those cannot be imposed, the debtor is bound into servitude, either to the ruling lord or to the person that he owes the debt to.”
“My father would have become a slave.”
“Until his debts were paid, yes.”
“And that is the system you prefer, is it not?” Erestor looked away, back to the fire.
“Not exactly. I think everyone deserves to make their own decisions. I offer a choice. If someone is found guilty of a crime, they can either be put to work in the mines for a duration determined by the severity of the crime committed, or they can spend one day and night in my room downstairs.” Glorfindel tilted his head in an attempt to catch Erestor’s gaze again. When he did, he added, “Not everyone is from my fiefdom. If someone owes a debt or can bargain their way out of their punishment through a forfeiture of funds, I provide the funds to those who do not have the ability to do so on their own, in exchange for time spent here.”
There was one question on Erestor’s mind, and he seemed uncomfortable about asking it. Eventually, he did. “Why?”
“I gain great pleasure from watching what goes on in that room,” admitted Glorfindel. “There is a balcony which you likely did not see that can only be entered through my private rooms. I stand and I watch... but no one would ever indulge me of that freely. It is all much too... intense. However, if the choice is between enduring public humiliation, and a swift, private punishment that guarantees at least some amount of pleasure and nearly complete anonymity, which would you choose?”
“I think I would choose never to have to make the choice,” answered Erestor.
Glorfindel smiled. “And perhaps you shall never need to answer the question.” He took then from his pocket a small key kept on a chain and held it out to Erestor. “This key will unlock two doors – the door you entered in the basement, and the gate that locks away the restricted collection of books and scrolls here in the library. I give you permission to unlock both doors freely, as you wish.” He stood up as soon as Erestor took the key. “I hope you enjoy the rest of your day. Good afternoon, Erestor.” He began to leave, but suddenly turned back. “Oh, and one thing more. Happy begetting day, Erestor. Fifty-two, if I am counting correctly.”
Erestor swallowed hard and the tinge crept across his cheeks once more. “This year, I am forty-nine.”
The elf lord came to a dead stop at the door. “Certainly not. We celebrated your fiftieth birthday two years ago.”
“I lied about my age so that you would not treat me like a child.” Erestor squirmed in his seat. “I was going to tell you eventually, but it never came up.”
Glorfindel’s entire demeanor changed, from open and inviting friend to angry guardian, and he immediately marched over to Erestor, whose face drained of all color as he shuddered in his seat. A hand was held out. “The key.” Erestor placed it in Glorfindel’s palm, which suddenly snapped shut. “You can have this back one year from now. Until then, I forbid you to return to the basement.” He shoved the key back into his pocket as he went and looked over his shoulder when he reached the door. “Happy forty-ninth begetting day, Erestor.”
