Some time ago I conceived the idea of a story exploring the culture and history of the Elves who lived beside Cuivienen and in particular that of the Elves who did not heed the call of the Valar. The Avari Elves, the unwilling, have always been fascinating to me because so little is known about them. Tolkien leaves them beside Cuivienen and then seemingly forgets about them. But I am not satisfied with that. I want more.

So I began to tell the tale of Thlenwe. Unfortunately, the story that is unfolding in my head is not going to be very pleasant for him. It is a dark tale and so even though I want to pursue it and explore those shadowy regions of the lore, I often find that it is easier to sit down and write about my naive Warden, Etaoin, than to try to get into the head of an ancient Elf who was captured and tortured by servants of Melkor. Thus the story has languished.

But I have not given up. I have a vision for where I want the story to go and I am going to do my best to keep following it. I hope that it will be enjoyable (as much as possible, anyway, what with all the torture and stuff) and enlightening to any who choose to accompany Thlenwe on his journey. Please feel free to comment and question. I would love to discuss my ideas.

This is more of a short interlude or link just to get me going again. Don’t forget to read part one and part two.

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The light that at times reached Thlenwe in the depths of his pit was always a sickly yellowish green color. The scholar in him couldn’t help but wonder why though he knew the knowledge would certainly increase his horror. It was light enough now to see his hand in front of his face. Much good may it do me, he thought bitterly. His hand looked diseased in the unnatural illumination. And perhaps it is. What are they doing to me?

Memories, unbidden, flitted through Thlenwe’s mind. He recalled shadowy creatures pouring a vile drink down his throat and feeling his senses heighten. He recalled pain worse than any imagining as they put his every nerve to the test. Pain multiplied upon pain until his body could no longer stand the sensation and slipped into blissful unconsciousness. He tried to think of something, anything else, but his brain insisted on dwelling in those terrible memories.

Why? Why do they torture me? What do they want and why won’t they tell me what it is? Who are they?

A ghastly scream echoed around him. There were always screams coming from… somewhere. His own were among them when they took him from his pit and bound him to the red hot slab of stone where they made a playground of his nerves.

Why?

Thlenwe cried out as a brilliant white light flashed before his weakened eyes.

When he awoke there was complete darkness around him. Propped up against the rough wall of the pit, the first thing he noticed was that he couldn’t move any part of his body other than his head. He fought down a surge of panic. Then something stirred in the darkness and he realized he was not alone.