Chapter Text
{1 Rhîw Imladris, November 23, Gregorian T.A. 3017 cont’d}
Adonenniel stood in the bamboo. Which was not precisely correct; Adonenniel had herself braced against and to the extent possible wrapped around the bamboo…that had greater accuracy. Both to verify that men were the hell out of the field (since it seemed to be so incredibly important), cool his temper and collect his thoughts, Vanimórë had chosen to walk a circuit of the acreage before returning, amused to find one horsewhip waiting for him upon his exit from the gate. Had the gear ever been used? The fine leather argued otherwise.
Sobering, he realized the appalling difficulty this would present. He could require a subordinate to carry out her sentence, which in turn would create a need for some ruse to hide her identity from the one holding the whip. Ultimately this would fail as all men were punished shirtless, and neither did he need news of her transgression to circulate. Really it had been more of a mistake than anything else. That the woman gamely owned up to her errant actions did not alter that nothing about Adonenniel’s existence had been normal and say what she would, she was no soldier. That pretense was merely one of many ill-fitting uniforms the overburdened queen wore as best she could, and because of all Vanimórë knew he would have issued a warning or one lash so that she could understand the peril of disobedience. But the situation had gone beyond his control, and now he must ensure her punishment remained hidden, unable to become a spectacle or subject for titillation. This was unfolding precisely because Sauron saw an opportunity to be execrable and was pressing his advantage. How to do this, though? The use of his full strength would be monstrous. The use of too little would bring accusations from Sauron that he had never intended to truly carry out his Master’s explicit command.
Adonenniel will forgive me, the foolish child. I shall not forgive myself. These few strands of decency to which he clung were what little remaining honor he had. He saw what was being done here, how Father aimed arrows at everything he held in regard. He would never force a woman…so instead he was made party to a dubious consent acquired by coercion. He would never strike a woman…so instead his body was overtaken to serve Sauron’s rages, and in this instance, backed ever further into the exercise of a role they all knew was inescapable. He wished to protect and care for her…and feared being used to lead her ever further down the same path of his own ignominious existence. So of course this figurative house too was being dismantled, brick by treacherous brick.
Silently he opened the door and threw the coiled thing inside onto the bed and returned to her.
Each hand grasped a smooth segment of the tall plant. With closed eyes, that other vision of hers searched and searched, trying to find the garden. The distances confused her. Had there been trees with their masses of interlocking roots, this would have been so simple, but grass here and there with many dry and sandy areas between…it was another version of groping around in the dark. Still, they were not far distant and the direction was known, and…the moment she found it, her inner sight filled with color. The trees, the rows of vegetables, everything. Bloody finally. Only then did she realize that nearly every muscle had tightened; her body involuntarily shook. Miserable, battling the hateful anxiety, at least now there was a place to bleed away her strength, while it lasted.
No gift as a healer was given to him, but still there was something he could do to help. Even when at odds, her mind processed him as stability. And that peculiar mind more than anything would register his scent and a light touch. Standing very near to her face without being obtrusive, something of an extrication began; her feet wanted to be in the soil. To Vanimórë’s view, her antics seemed comical save that he could understand the reason for each thing being done. Contact with the bare earth allowed just a little more clarity, a sharper focus, to what she saw. Also he began to understand, everything was a conduit of sorts. Some patterns aligned well, others did not. To his chagrin, he now realized that when she bitterly complained that the garden was wrong, what she meant but could not express well was that the power needed to operate the machinery of growth could not flow efficiently at all. There were strictures in far too many places, the sum total of which was that the place was a wholly wasted effort and the mere thought of building upon the existing situation further could not be borne.
Had he paid closer attention before now, much by way of inefficiency could have been clarified. Why had he not? – The perceived necessity of going out of his way to feign disinterest in and annoyance with the queen. What a clusterf*ck this all had become, to choose one of her words.
Gathering herself, she worked from here to grow the vegetables. Crop after crop, not quite as efficiently as if she stood down there, food appeared in great volume. More and more and more, and then in the trees, which were harder at this distance thus she was tiring. Sliding down to all fours, then to her elbows, still she pressed on.
Vanimórë closed his eyes. There was ‘not in the mood’ and then there was…this. This entire situation. He had goaded her into working when it was barely anything she could manage and now the proverbial chickens were pecking at his doorstep.
In a very short time, their physical relationship had become difficult, as they guessed it might. More so for her; he was inured to being no more than a Thing To Be Used. Rarely were they able to meet each other as genuine lovers; only sometimes late at night when both woke with honest desire that gave way to a real, unscripted passion. But this…he loosened the ties of his breeches. At least she did as much as possible to aid him, well aware that it was a burden for both of them to bear. That all of this was a humiliation for her did not escape him; to be covered like a mare in estrus almost daily in order to complete her work, Adonenniel wanted sex while focused on work ‘like she wanted a hole in the head,’ to mention a favorite quote. But lacking power, all would come to a halt.
So the skirt would raise, and the enticing sight of a woman pleasuring herself, or trying to, would be what he found waiting. He was not expected to do the work of satisfying her, but by now she realized he had routines he enjoyed. If he could use his mouth on her, he would harden quickly and her desire for him would rise. They were not there, however, to have a good time. They were there for him to release his seed into her, the sooner the better – because time spent in intercourse was time not at productive labor for their Lord. That meant, whatever worked for him, they did – though there were limits to how much Vanimórë could stand the thought of this.
Sometimes he did not care if they used some more minutes, he saw to her pleasure first. He found, though, that she attuned to him and would often climax quickly from sheer desire. He did not want it to feel flattering; the knowledge that out of all her lovers, husband included, she had only ever responded this way to him alone. In her mind he found that while she truly loved her husband, her body felt an affinity for the Dark Prince like no other. No, she could not keep him, but he was all of the music in the night. As much as he tried to ignore this about her, they were the cracks through which she seeped in for all of her was too damnably honest.
Lifting her skirt, he brushed her folds with his fingers. Dissatisfied, powerful hands on her hips and agile fingers spread her gently until that devilish tongue had what it wanted. In the garden below, growth slowed but did not stop. Nenni’s lips parted, and an unvoiced sound of pleasure, air moved in her throat (but not a moan) chased by a soft gasp. The longer he continued, the more elaborate the very quiet sounds became. Always, she was exceedingly careful and discreet. When at last he penetrated her, he already was close, having worked at himself to save them both time. This way, reaping the sweet, hard strokes that were a surety to make both of them…
His power entering her could and often did feel electrical, as in jolting. Adonenniel declined to say that this was not how it was with the others who shared their power; he felt bad too easily about too many things. Always it was worth the price; work now could be finished in no time. The fruit was done growing before he slipped from her body.
“I know how tiresome this is,” she nuzzled, kissing him on the cheek. “I still thank you. I appreciate you.”
“It is my duty,” followed the reply with an unusually hard edge to it. Vanimórë’s hand grasped her shoulder while she observed their usual courtesy of offering each other some cleanliness. She had no need of him returning the favor; they were outdoors, on grass. Gravity would care for the problem very quickly.
“I suppose you need to start them harvesting.” Given the size of her mouth and his male parts, the speed at which she could accomplish this task amazed but the unwanted guest who would not cease visiting his mind today had no interest in such trivialities.
“...yes. I will return momentarily.” Restoring himself to order with alacrity, the sight of his sweeping hair as he hastened away elicited a sigh.
“Life with Vanimórë and company,” Nenni muttered under her breath darkly. “It’s everything I hoped it would be. Except not. I do not know how but…” Another sigh. “But I do not know how.”
Rising, she wrinkled her nose at what was left in the grass. Protein for the ants, I guess. Ew. Sex might give great pleasure while it was in progress, but there was no denying that from a purely objective standpoint, it and most other physiological processes were really gross. Let’s discuss digestion. “Or…let’s not, say we did, and go inside instead…”
Always it seemed so much nicer in their home except… “There is a horsewhip on the bed,” Nenni informed the room. “So the rest of the day is to be even more fun, I see. Is this supposed to be a hint? Alright. I suppose they have flagellants here too, why not? The world is a f*cked up place. Let’s get this over with.” Given that her long hair was already coiled atop her head, it left only ditching these clothes in favor of just some undergarment…might as well fish something already used from the laundry in case this gets messy…
You need overhead room, no objects around you can accidentally hit, and possibly something to hold onto like…one of the structural timbers holding this place up. Go back to the other side. So here was the space. I’ve done a lot of weird sh*t but I don’t think whipping myself was on the list. Well, this is connecting to my Catholic past in a new and special way. Does it count as historical research? A few cursory tries over the shoulder established the general grip and angle. Now you actually have to make it count. Can you do it? You have to hit yourself as hard as you can, or it’s not…what it’s supposed to be. It’s counterintuitive.
Are you joking? The Little Voice said. Is this really you? Want to hurt yourself. This is the one time all of that self-harm garbage could actually be good for something, and you can’t figure that out?
“Wow, are we really having this conversation? Last time you ripped me a new one over this.”
That…was before we stepped through the Looking Glass and onto the chess board.
Staring at everything and nothing, a cruel smile spread over lovely white teeth. A decorative jar, filled with colored glass pieces mostly in hues of red. These she poured out uncaringly on the sideboard runner-cloth, and took a few. “Fifteen, he said?”
Music came for her ears only, not anything like the usual favorites. I only remember the album was named Delirium…
The lessons were all learned, a very different alto lilt intoned.
CRACK angrily, her right arm swung the leather over in an arc onto her back with all she had. The pain and sting were tremendous but that was the point, wasn’t it?
Lessons were all learned, she repeated, pointing at something unseen with the whip handle. My soul has charred, what they burned.
CRACK
‘Til the end of time, ‘Til the end of time (You should apologize), she hissed
CRACK, CRACK
“Four.” Four glass pieces were tossed onto the bed, and some more were scooped into her hand from the side board. Biting her lip hard, deep breathing was forced through the bleeding stings. If this was four, she would kiss his feet for sparing her five. He said to learn silence. He meant, obedience. I have been to this party before and so has he. I can go home someday, in theory. He cannot…hehe.
‘Til the end of time, ‘Til the end of time
CRACK
So silence shamed me, shame
CRACK, CRACK
She brought with her doubt and blame
CRACK CRACK
“Five more,” under her breath, shakily throwing the pieces on the bed. “I don’t know what to do, this is very hard. Not sure I can power through six more, hurts so much. Drawing it out just as bad. Mmmmmmmmnnn….”
The music kept on, kept on…trying to slow her racing heart. Forehead against the pole, one arm held tight to it. Her right hand grasped the whip as though it was her sword seeking for the exact moment to strike – a detached thing, an impartial bystander with a determination all its own.
‘Til the end of time, ‘Til the end of time, ‘Til the end of time, ‘Til the end of time,
CRACK
Now it’s your turn to cry, Spend your life wondering why … You knew
The door noisily flew open and banged shut as the tenth glass piece musically landed amidst the others. In seconds he was there. “What are you DOING?” Vanimórë exploded, removing the whip roughly from her possession.
“I couldn’t do all of this before you came back,” Nenni tried to speak levelly. “I have reached the point of struggling with it; using all my strength is…I know it is the point of the thing but it will take me much longer. I have five more to go. Please administer the rest?”
“Who told you to do this?”
The copper head tilted in complete confusion. “You told me what my punishment was, and sent me inside with a whip sitting on the bed. It is the kind used on earth for self-abasem*nt, long ago. You detest striking women. I took all these things to mean that I was to get on with it, since I knew what was required.” Trying to find some humor in a situation not funny at all, her head lowered and both palms raised up to him. “It seems I have made a mistake. I am still here and the fault is mine. Do as you need to do, Lord. Especially if this is something our Master has insisted on. I apologize.”
Wordlessly he removed a decorative tassel from where it hung. “Place your hands high up against the pole,” he demanded in that ever so slightly peculiar tone she had come to recognize and dread.
The son was probably not in the driver’s seat. Wonderful. But I have survived the pain of Dragonfire. There is in fact nothing worse you can do to me, unless you have a spare one of those holed up in that pet volcano of yours. Any thought of refusing any command it was possible to obey was not to be thought of, so in seconds immobilization had been accomplished.
“Thou’rt bleeding.” Vanimórë/Sauron? seemed to be weighing what to do. “I want to see. Thy memory, what thou didst.”
“...yes, Lord.” She let him in, feeling there was little choice. That felt more than incredibly unsettling, but he only wanted one piece of information; whether she truly had hit herself with all her strength.
Annoyed, Sauron was forced to relent. The thorn in his side had won part of this round; he could not add to her punishment for honestly trying to obey him. “Thy Master is here, Adonenniel. He is both angered and pleased by the things he hath learned.”
“My Lord Sauron,” Nenni bowed her head deeply, unable to assume any other posture. “I cannot kneel to you.”
“After this, my slave will explain some circ*mstances for which I very much expect thy cooperation. Thy actions today caused a cascade of problems with more to follow. I am providing a considerable concession – at a cost. Reflect well on the rest of thy punishment ere ever this happens a second time.”
CRACKRACKRACKRACKRACK
The blows came with vicious strength and speed; it could not have lasted even five seconds. There was no need to ask; the level of damage done could be felt, viscerally. The pain from this fresh assault hadn’t registered yet. Here existed the ephemeral, blessed few seconds before nerve endings decided they had a job to do and ended their tea break. Probably there would be crying.
While any dignity remained, it would be very smart to say what this overbloated ego wanted to hear. “Yes, Master. Please overlook my differences. I truly do not mean to cause problems, Great Lord. I am broken and grateful for your patience.” The window closed. Excruciating hurt shot through the injuries.
“One question for thee.”
“Yes, Master?” Adonenniel’s voice could not hide all of the strain.
“What doth Thranduil manage with thee, being so broken?”
“A few things, Lord. I granted his desire for family. I still functioned as a counselor and cared for office duties. I did for my own people what I am doing for you. When all else fails, he throws up his hands and stares at Glorfindel in the hopes of greater insight. But left to my own devices I am told I am amusing and eventually produce usefulness for the benefit of others. Er, maybe that exceeded a few. I am sorry.”
“I challenge ‘eventually’ to be ‘expeditiously’,” Sauron taunted.
“Yes, Lord.” Her voice could not keep steady through “I shall ask the mother ship straight away, Lord.”
“What?”
“The mother ship.” Nenni’s bound hands had the fingers free, and one pointed upward. “It sends the ideas down. Lord.”
“That is enough.”
Silent, Nenni was only too happy to just try to breathe and wonder how Vanimórë could have endured the tortures laid upon him. He would have faced ten times worse than this had she failed to come here. Regardless what Thranduil would think of her, now that she had felt this herself…I must be wrong, and bad. Maybe I am just a pathetic do-gooder who cannot ignore the plight of anyone, just as I could not turn aside from the man I did not even know, husband or not. All of the things that happened between Thranduil and herself floated past like a flipbook. The gifts, the rules, the manipulations…a much nicer version of what was being done to her right now. Are any of them even sort of original? It’s…eh, whatever and god this hurts so much; this is worse. So that’s how hard Vanimórë can hit. With Sauron at the wheel, I’m pretty sure he borrowed the car to go full speed. Curiosity solved, and curiosity kind of killed the cat.
“Adonenniel…” a voice riddled with anguish returned. “Father has been coming all day today. I believe his sole purpose was to strike you. I am…”
My god, he is really, really upset…
“Love…I may be crazy but I wasn’t born yesterday. I really can tell the difference pretty well now. There is something in your voice when he uses you to speak; it isn’t you. I try to talk to him as though it’s…him, because I know it is. I’m fully aware that you are no better than a puppet at these times and I am so, so sorry this is being done to you but I know it is not you. It’s him. You are not doing these things to me. That your body is the vehicle he is using does not even register with me. I don’t see you, do you understand me? I know that another hand held the whip. I do not think you would have…would have hit me so hard. Maybe I am wrong. Maybe I was meant to have all fifteen blows be exactly like that.”
Silence, while he untied her hands. “Would you please let me in?”
Of course, I just wanted him…not in. It was getting weird.
The exquisite eyelashes lowered in obvious shame over jeweled eyes. It is not meant to be like this. You are in as much pain as if you had been given twenty or twenty-five. He did that in anger and I had no power to stop him and I have no words for my….I led you to this in order to spare myself. This is the cost of my cowardice.
My kingdom for a chopstick to prod that pointy ear right now… for f*ck’s sake…Don’t go there. Really. Do. Not. Dare. Go. There. First off, it was my choice. Second, your words happen to invalidate much of why I did come here instead of swan off. I think I needed to experience that because now I understand, a little.
I apologize. His gaze swept over her, especially her back, out of an unhappy face. I wish thee to walk and lie abed before thy wounds dry. I will treat them with salve to help; thou canst not heal so quickly as I. The worst will require two days, perhaps? I realize only now that my experience with elves…he shook his head.
Then let me hold your arm. Settling in was the work of a moment. Well, this is ridiculous. I can fix up most anything and I can’t even see the problem.
“Do not move. You cannot hide how much pain you are in,” Vanimórë spoke quietly.
It was as…devastated…as she had ever heard him. “Because you asked to be let in, and I agreed,” Nenni fired back. “Don’t make me regret that cooperation when I know you have suffered hundreds of times more than this and I probably need to add a zero onto that. Stop acting like this is in any way your fault. I put myself here in your world and it has rules. I f*cked up.” All the talking created tension, and tension pulled on muscles that had been badly abused. Terrible idea.
Stop talking! Talk to me here or you will hurt worse! I will try because you ask it but I loathe this! I loathe that I am the despicable, powerless tool by which he can deal cruelty where it is not deserved, this and…
I know you are. Vanimórë, is…he is gone, right?
Yes.
Have I earned any of your trust? If I told you something, could you at least consider that I might know what I am talking about, despite the level of ridiculousness?
Silence. Thou hast proven steadfast toward me in a way few others have. I did not wish our lives to become entangled, but so it has become. Trust is a difficult word for me, Lady; this world is a foul place. The most honest thing I can say is, I believe thou wouldst not ever willingly nor knowingly bring harm upon nor deceive me. All of that is a form of Yes.
I have another question. If I tell you a very simple thing, can you hide it away deep down, not think on it very much?
I…could. I am not such an object of fascination that he would tear my mind apart without reasons I could not begin to imagine.
“Then come here, please. And look at me.” Nenni voiced, to hell with the pain.
Reluctantly he stopped what he was doing, and moved to her head, bestowing a very gentle kiss. “What is so important?”
This: Her eyes bored into his, and few things had ever mattered so much to her. Tears spilled from her eyes. This will not always be your life, assuming you survive what lies ahead. Your freedom is nearer than you realize. When that happens, you will always find a friend in me.
More silence, and she could not plumb the depths of the spirit before her, that flickered in shades of violet at the fringes of her vision. The pupils had contracted sharply, and widened, much as that of the great birds of prey. Nenni could ask him nothing of whether he thought her words a colossal joke, just as he could not ask her how she dared claim to know. They were together, and a chasm lay between them. Right now every bit of the pain from her back found a welcome; without it no means would exist to manage the torment in her spirit.
You are far more than whether or not we are having carnal relations. I do not expect you to understand that somehow, I needed to come here and find myself. I am still searching.
With the pad of his thumb, he brushed away her tears. Thy words are not for discussion in this place and time. But I do have one appropriate query.
Which is?
How knowest thou, the hour when thy search is at an end?
Nenni smiled at him. I can’t explain myself, I’m afraid, sir, because I’m not myself, you see.
Liking the answer, Vanimórë chuckled. I am going to apply an ointment now. It will help with the pain. I can also send for a medicine made from the poppy grown here. I see it ease suffering but if taken too much the people crave it all the time, losing themselves.
Pretty sure I know what that is and if I could have some of that I would be very grateful. Hopefully this is something meant to be swallowed not smoked, a liquid?
I am uncertain. Why doth this matter?
Dosage. Only with a liquid is it possible to figure out how much will suffice, and no more.
I see.
Vanimórë, punishment. I am also incredibly motivated never to have this happen to me again. So I am begging you, if you see me straying, tell me. I will listen. I grew up in a world where I lived in daily fear of physical violence and behaved a certain way because of it. I paid a very high price for existing in that environment, but nobody really cared about that just like nobody will care here. It is a system. I need to do my job, fulfill my duties and sooner or later I will break down because this is intolerable, but that is my problem.
What do you mean, break down?
I’m mentally ill. If a mentally ill person…you know what, let’s just say me, because I am the person under discussion. I have needs. I am not you, and my response to a lifetime of abuse is the opposite of being a pillar of strength. So he takes me, makes me work like an automaton with little regard for anything that matters to me…eventually I’m going to slide into despair, and after despair comes not wanting to live any more. After that comes dying. It’s kind of simple.
Thou hast told, thou canst not hearken to the summons from Lord of the Dead…
Well then I’ll have some kind of adventure, won’t I? But at least I won’t be here.
“Please do not do this to me,” Vanimórë pleaded. “I know how he behaved today, but he gave you what you wanted…at least if you are willing to bargain with him.”
What are you talking about? The salve was helping, but before it could help he had to put it on, and every new place he touched was fire.
You are unhappy with the garden and for the first time, today I had some understanding of why. I could see, a little, what it is you do and how…well as you say it is not working. He will allow production to cease, and for you to solve the problems…though you cannot take too long.
You said ‘bargain.’
He hath a wish to show thee off like a prize possession to select dignitaries. Men of power. Thou wouldst entertain, display thy abilities.
Oh? And what comes after the entertainment, when their lust strikes and they want to bed me. Do I entertain that too? Nenni closed her eyes and shook her head. I am to be a courtesan with a good side show. That is what he wants. He already has leveraged this and destroyed the sanctity of my marriage, and now he wishes to make the wreckage complete and utterly make me his whor*. I’ve already crossed the line, what’s a little more? Oh Valar it’s so bad it’s good…and if I refuse, a bunch of people get killed, right?
Bile rose in his gut. His underestimation of her acuity caught him badly unawares. Where there should be relief that this burden had been lifted from him, disgust and helplessness roiled …Children. The pain in that word seemed endless.
Something like a cascade of stars exploded behind her closed eyes, before all the lights extinguished. Do you know, I somehow find nothing matters any longer? I mean, when it comes to it, I will feel sick, nervous, maybe I will panic, I do not know. I was never able to have casual encounters. I did not know how. Something about them terrified me. And once again I am sorry, I apologize to you. Here I am, speaking from my place of privilege, bitching about the loss of what you never had.
I was instructed to escort thee. The hidden meaning is, I too am offered up for the pleasure of whoever is there. To dance if asked, or…more. But my first duty is to thee.
Wait. So if someone…wants me…you have to stand there and watch? This was becoming surreal.
No. I would stand guard outside the room. Giving privacy, but close enough to hear any harm to thee. In actuality, close enough to hear thy mind. They will have been instructed, thou mayst not be abused, treated roughly, perversely… he frowned. Adonenniel, how much intercourse hast thou had, as males do?
You mean how much anal sex have I had? Not a lot. I love touching men that way. I swear I am a gay man trapped in a woman’s body because if there is anything better than giving a man a prostate massage and a hand job and dragging it out until he is a hot mess, I’d like to know what it is…really I am a waste…anyway my experiences with it have been mixed. I had a good time in the end, but the pain of getting in there unless someone takes half a year with foreplay…oi.
Two dark brows shot up nearly to his hairline as he felt a twitch in his groin. Damn this woman… He did not permit himself to be taken with partners; always he did the taking. Was it really the same, though, if a woman bestowed the pleasure? “Adonenniel…can you ever just answer the question?” Now he needed to adjust his trousers, and his hands were covered in ointment.
I am sorry, Vanimórë. I did not mean to…
It is well, he interrupted. But for thee…there could be a problem. It is very common for males to presume to use females in all manner.
I feel like this is going a little too far. They are getting to screw the crowned queen of another realm, and they are going to lodge a complaint because they can’t ass rape her when she is not accustomed to this activity instead of using the place on women that, you know, is set up for this kind of thing? I won’t be here forever, and I’ll be taking down names as it is. Just for having the audacity to use me like this, the day will come when there will be regret, even if it is upon their sixth great-grandsons. I have a very long memory.
My dear… He sighed, obviously in some kind of desperation. Thou wert drugged more than twice. While I may go with thee for protection, I may not succeed. Our Master wants to offer us in this way. Already, a serious matter not in our favor exists. Thou hast beseeched me, that I should keep thee from further punishment of this kind. Allow me then to prepare thy body for what may come. I do not want thee to suffer the pain of rape nor the lash. When thou’rt not his toy to show off, he sees thee as contrary, spoiled. Our Master cannot understand thy condition and cares nothing for frailties nor emotions. Thou canst not know how much I have played the intermediary, or tried to.
Nenni closed her eyes. Please forgive me. I will do my best to do as you ask of me. I think…in all this place, you are the only one to whom I can submit without everything inside shaking asunder. Our Master, I do some of it because I take pride in my good work and promises and the rest because of deceptive coercions backed by fear of pain. Might makes right, we called it on earth. You could use might makes right too, but you have not. I want to please you even if sometimes you are difficult to understand and seemingly impenetrable. Your regard means something to me, so when you ask something of me, the only reason I need is the knowledge that this is what you want me to do. Not him, not anything else about this place. If the only reason is that it makes your life easier, for now it is enough.
For now. But not always. The amethyst eyes glittered.
I agreed to grow food. Do you notice how he likes to alter the rules of what was a very simple and straightforward bargain? A bargain for which, by the way, I never expect nor care to see his side fulfilled but I digress. If he can alter the bargain to suit his purposes, then so can I. It is best I say no more and yet I have already said it. I still have much work to do for our Master. I sincerely hope, though, that this marks the limit of his forays into hanging me out like a choice piece of meat. I can only imagine what my husba– oh. Ohhhh. Oh Nenni you stupid, stupid, dolt. It was right in front of me all the time. What an incredible, giant fool I am.
What mean’st thou?
I mean, dear man, that all of this has never really been about me at all. It is time I taught you to play chess.
**
