An Evil Cradling

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We were just friends for a long time, before it led to anything else," says Audrey. "All the same, some people thought I'd just emerged from nowhere and predicted it would never last." A dissenting grumble rolled through the orcs, but slowly they shuffled off, and relief poured through Maedhros’ heart as he heard them depart. Yet setting towards him then he heard the heavy tread of the captain; unseen things crunched to the stones by his side, and swiftly he steeled himself, he drew to himself whatever shreds of lordliness he had left and thrust them out before him like a shield. Stubbornly - it is stubbornness that he considers his principal trait - he has resisted having an identity foisted on him. And this has served him well. But intransigence, as he points out, can carry its own terrible consequences. "If I believe something, I believe it passionately and no one will change it. It's awful. I am old enough to know better, old enough to rationalise things. But, with me, belief has to be a hundred per cent." So he can understand, he says, what happened in Beirut. "The ramifications of that sort of belief. Why they took hostages. How they came to murder six people. I don't approve. But I can understand it." In the chapter ‘ Into The Dark’ , how does Kennan use language to describe the extreme mental states he experienced in his first period of captivity? One by one they were slain; the Noldor’s tight defensive knot frayed as the orcs gnawed at it, as the Valaraukar unravelled it; and Maedhros screamed out his hatred as he felt the rush of sundered fëar envelop him, and loathing bubbled in him that his friends might have been defiled so cruelly. For how dare the Moringotto think to cross him; viciously he decapitated the squat orc who leapt at him and sent its grotesque skull tumbling; how dare Morgoth renege upon his vows, how dare he lull the Noldor to their slaughter like some craven, honourless dog; and as the warm splatter of orcish ichor drenched him, a feral snarl ripped across Maedhros’ face.

This is nothing more than a feint,” Celegorm had whispered, he had implored Maglor to see reason even as the final preparations for Maedhros’ leave-taking were made. “This is a game of daggers and mirrors, and we cannot fathom what shadows lurk behind this façade. Nelyo will not see sense, he will not see the snare that loops before him; he will throw himself away upon the rash hope that a thief might relinquish that which he has stolen. This is madness, Káno, this is folly, and you must make him see it.”His brothers fretted as he had armed himself: Caranthir rumbled out his worries as a squire garbed Maedhros in a magnificent breastplate of burnished steel, Curufin scowled down at Huan flopped by his feet as Maedhros tightened the gleaming bracers upon his arms and rolled out his shoulders within his newly smelted pauldrons. Amras held tightly to little Celebrimbor curled up and dozing in his lap, and Celegorm stood tightly at his side, worrying at the cuticle of his nail until Maedhros was sure that he must have torn it beyond all repair. Finally Maglor ceased his worrisome pacing, the rhythmic tread of his steps had sent a faint tinge of nausea rolling through Maedhros’ stomach; he passed Maedhros his sword sheathed within its ornate scabbard, and with every ounce of willpower in him Maedhros forced himself to ignore just how hard his brother’s fingers were shaking.

A sudden pang of hunger twisted through Maedhros’ stomach, but haughtily he lifted his head, and with as much defiance as he could push into his voice he replied, “I do not want it… Not from you!” verifyErrors }}{{ message }}{{ /verifyErrors }}{{ Keenan uses various techniques to convey the feeling of human degradation that he went through during the first period of his captivity. When Keenan is given a bowl of fruits his ‘eyes are almost burned by what they see’. This suggests that due to his the repetitive, dull and lifeless days his senses became “thirsty” for a stimulus, and when they get it, they overact. This is suggested by the word ‘burned’, as the colours seem to go through his eyes, harming his retina, just as if he was kept in a dark place and then suddenly exposed to light, blinding him. His chaotic reaction is further emphasised by the extreme, seemingly almost exaggerated verbs or adjective for their nouns. Such examples include ‘ecstatic embrace’, ‘torrents of tears’, ‘great rage’ and tears that seem to ‘tear the skin’. These powerful adjectives and verbs suggest his intense experience of the world. He seems to be flooded by these feelings and senses driving him into confusion and madness. This is also proven by his rapidly changing moods, from ecstasy to raging weeping. Keenan claims that ‘the fruits, the colours, mesmerize me in a quiet rapture and spins through my head.’‘Mesmerize’ and ‘rapture’ suggest that he is a prisoner of his senses, almost as if his raging senses rule over his logic and healthy judgement. This makes him go insane and have no control over his thoughts.

Within the stirrups he rose, he touched his spurs once more to his horse’s flanks and gave the beast its head, and he let the tender night wash over him as they sped away across the plains. Slay any left alive!” A thin voice barked behind him, and with its words and the roar of orcish glee that met them, blank despair crested in Maedhros’ heart as he was led away. “Leave the dead to rot.” Fury swelled in Maedhros’ heart as he saw their lines break into a sprint, the outrage of betrayal squalled in his veins but tightly he gripped to it, he mastered it, and as Fëanor’s son revealed in the fey glory of his wrath he drew his sword, and aloud he cried: “Hold fast! Ortaerë, mehtarnya! Ortaerë!” A tangle of voices jeered, and rigidly Maedhros held himself still as their scorn crashed down upon him. The blunt tone of knowing in Gothmog’s voice sent spears of foreboding lancing through Maedhros’ heart. For a moment then he wavered: the rich scent of the stew sent hunger cramping through his innards, and though it felt like a betrayal, it felt like a surrender, at last he nodded. He suffered the Balrog to press the spoon to his lips, though his fingers twitched feebly within his bonds as he longed to be freed. As if he were no more than an animal made lame and helpless the Valarauka fed him, but though that degradation stormed through him, still he accepted each spoonful of warm stew past his trembling jaw.