Records of an Inquiry Into Unlawful Conduct in Angband Division C-134-B by kimikocha  

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The Evidence

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From: Sam Park <lilsparky@hotmail.com>
Sent: August 26, 2001, 1:43 PM
To: Len Toller <len.toller@yahoo.com>; Samantha Park <spark3@jacaranda.edu>
Subject: Sakalkhôr’s papers

Hey sweetie!

I was looking through some more of the papers from the first incarnation of mine you married (and you know how much it still thrills me to share in the memories of millennia you hold — though UGH I cannot believe I never ONCE managed to incarnate in the Roman Empire! HOW am I supposed to engage with that entire bit of history without any experiential data whatsoever???? by using normal investigative techniques like some sort of person born in the 80s???¿¿¿ utterly unfair) and I came across something rather topical.

You know I’ve been coping with the clusterfuck that has been the whole process of trying to deal with the police and get some sort of justice for what happened to me by obsessively comparing attitudes and approaches to sexual assault in all the eras that strike my fancy. This particular bit of correspondence, which appears to contain previously unknown portions of records from Angband, contains a discussion between Sakalkhôr and what appears to be another historian about those records. The only problem is, the records were definitely incomplete — both those from Angband and Sakalkhôr’s notes themselves. I have the feeling he hadn’t met you yet because he doesn’t mention you, even in passing through a comment about marrying someone almost as old as the sun, but did he ever talk to you about any of this?

…And on a very different note, did you have any special requests for souvenirs? My aunt and uncle wanted to visit one of the museums before I leave, and I’m supposed to break the tie between the Met and the Museum of Natural History. The problem is, I like both of them, so now you get to break the tie by telling me which place you’d rather get a knickknack from. Or maybe a tie. You look very cute in ties.

<33333 Miss you lots and lots. Next time I’m afraid I’m going to have to make you come with me — turns out I still have a horrible time sleeping alone. My cousin and all of the dogs have been sharing the bed with me to make sure I feel safe, but it calms me down the most when it’s you.

~*~

17 Cermië, SA 3264

My very dear friend—

The excavation of Angband has sadly ground to a halt once more, as the lead safety officer has again deemed it unsafe for entry. Of course I have tried to make it known to him that the materials inside may be fragile and swift action may need to be taken in order to preserve them for future generations, but he was unmoved. Enforced downtime has, however, come with the benefit of permitting me time to look over some of the records we have restored more carefully, including those sent along with this letter, which I entrust to your care. I imagine that given certain prior discussions regarding the excesses of our late usurper, you may find them to be of interest — I must admit that I myself found a certain morbid interest in comparing the two, as in some ways this hell of legend seems less inclined to permit certain profligacies in its gentry than some forces within our own nation’s court, though one sees many ways in which their procedures might frustrate the cause of the innocent.

I shall write more soon. Forgive me for not writing to you at greater length — I have more records to review, and I trust you understand how little I find myself able to focus on other matters.

Ever yours,

Êphalakzîr

~*~

AJ 519, Ulubhân 44
Statement of the witness Ozûtalai, a sempster of division C-134-B, offered on interrogation to Ilûkhobh, a military investigator of the third rank.

Yes, I know the seamstress Nárelótë, and I believe I know something of the matter you are investigating. I am assigned to station C-134-B-6D, which is next to her station. Draumâkil and I showed her the ways of bathing and where to eat. We have let her sleep beside us, though she often is not there. Lady Thuringwethil began to visit shortly after she arrived, though at first I did not know who she was. She asked Nárelótë if she was married, and Nárelótë said no. Lady Thuringwethil said that was good and asked Nárelótë if she thought she, meaning Lady Thuringwethil, was beautiful. Nárelótë said yes. Then Lady Thuringwethil asked if Nárelótë wanted her, and Nárelótë said no.

At that, the Lady smiled. She said that she intended to woo Nárelótë before long. I heard Nárelótë’s heart begin to race, and I could smell her sweat. She said then that she would die, or that she would die first, or perhaps that someone would kill her; I am not entirely fluent in the language they spoke, and am not certain of the nuances. Regardless, Lady Thuringwethil said that such a thing would certainly not happen.

Nárelótë was denied rations that evening, but I believe it was because she did not meet her quota for the day, not an order from the Lady Thuringwethil. There were multiple days before that when the same thing happened. Draumâkil and I tried to help her, but at first she was very much an apķe, she did not want to work. We did not share our food with her when she refused to work, but we did when she was too slow. Everyone told her this is a very good post, the work is very light, but most of the time she did not want to hear us. I think several people disliked her because of that, because who among us has not had someone who needed lighter work before they could get it, a cousin, or even an honored father or mother? Who among us has not gone hungry, not because we were too slow, but because all Angband was on short rations and the little ones needed more?

But others said, do not judge her too harshly. The land of her ancestors burns.

After that, Lady Thuringwethil began to visit almost every day. On one of those days she untied Nárelótë’s kerchief and took it away with her, which seemed to make Nárelótë very upset; she cried for perhaps an hour afterward and knelt under the table, covering her head with her arms, stinking of anxious sweat. I cannot say I understood what the trouble was, but she calmed down and got back to work after I made her a new head-covering from fabric scraps.

The next day, the Lady came to see me. Nárelótë was there, but Lady Thuringwethil ignored her. She made me stand in the center of the room and watched as several of her attendants fed on me, which they did until I fainted. I remember that their teeth made strange high-pitched grinding sounds, and that I could not hear heartbeats from any of them, not even when they were right next to me.

When I awoke, they were gone, and some others were gathered around me. Nárelótë was not there. I did not know where she was, but I saw the kerchief I had made for her lying on her desk when the others helped me back to mine. I was covered in blood. My throat burned. There was a strange, acrid scent in my nose and mouth, the sort of scent that becomes a taste; it took weeks for it to fully disappear. The attendants’ bite marks ached and continued to bleed whenever I shifted my head or my neck. It was, we all know what this is like, normally any blood left on the skin darkens and dries swiftly, but this was different. This blood remained red and fresh for a long time, and smelled strange.

My captain sent me to the infirmary when he returned. Several of the others helped me there. The healers told me I could have bled to death had the swelling in my neck not effectively pressed the bite wounds shut, for there was a poison in the fangs of Lady Thuringwethil and her folk that prevented clotting in the blood. I am not aware of committing any crimes, certainly none warranting death, and the Lady informed me of none when she set her attendants on me. Assurakûn, a healer, made a report of unjust punishment, and I made a complaint of the same through my captain. I do not know of anything being done, and the Lady Thuringwethil’s visits continued — see new quire.

[Note — I believe this interview continues in folio LV-464, where it is found alongside similar sworn declarations from Draumâkil and others in division C-134-B. Documents in this period seem to be far less organized than those which are older. Possibly reflecting a rise in strain on internal services following the absorption of Gondolin? I am beginning to wonder whether this victory was felt as one within Angband; the number of officials and servants within its upper levels of leadership so far seems to remain static over time despite the empire’s continuous expansion. Hope to discuss with you later, E.]

From Folio LV-464.

[Note — a portion of this page is missing; the text begins mid-statement. I believe this may represent the continuation of the sempster Ozûtalai’s statement from LV-463 — E.]

…and so I will tell what I know of the day I was bitten, since you ask where the seamstress went. I do not know. I was on the floor. But I have thought on it many times since. Before that day, whenever the Lady asked her, Nárelótë said no. I heard her say it; it is a word I know in her tongue. After that day I did not hear her say it again. Her kerchief was on her desk, and she does not leave it anywhere of her own will. I think she went with them so that they would stop.

She has never said so to me. When I came back from the infirmary I could not turn my head to see my work, and I was slow. Each evening my count was met. I did not meet it. I sat between the ones who did.

—Asked whether the seamstress told him why she partook in this, the witness stated that she did not, and that when he thanked her she said something in her own language which he did not understand and which did not sound kind.

It is known what is owed to one who keeps you from joining your ancestors before your time. I have told my mother and my mother’s brothers that I owe this to her, and they agree it is so. I do not think she knows it is owed. I do not think she would want it. That does not change that it is owed.

After that she was not denied rations again, though there were days her station stood empty from the first bell to the last. I will say what is true: I thought she had found a patron, and I was sour about it. Draumâkil said so aloud. She came back smelling of meat cooked in honey, and of a fruit I do not know, and of witch-hazel, always. One evening I asked her what the Lady asked of her for the food. She did not answer. Her heart went like a hare’s. Then I understood it was the thing we do not do, and I was ashamed, because I had envied her for it.

—Asked where his captain was on the day he was bitten, the witness stated that he did not know; that the captain left the workroom a short time before the Lady came and returned a short time after she had gone. Asked whether the captain was commonly absent when the Lady visited, the witness was silent for some time, and then stated that he was. Asked to whom he had given his complaint of unjust punishment, the witness stated: to his captain. Asked to whom the others of his division had given theirs, the witness stated: the same.

The Lady took the second kerchief also, and the third. After that we all made them. There are eleven of us and there are always scraps. We keep them in the basket under my table, and when one is taken she has another before the Lady has reached the stair. It is a small thing. It is what we had.

—Asked to number and describe the Lady’s attendants, that they might be summoned, the witness stated that he could not. He stated that he had tried to count them and that he would count four, and look again and count six, and again and count three. He stated that their teeth make the sound he has described but their feet make none on the floor, and that when one passed close beside the lamp the flame did not lean. He stated that they have no scent of any kind. He stated that when they were upon him he felt teeth in many places but smelled only one mouth, and that it smelled of witch-hazel. Asked what he meant by this, the witness stated that he did not know what he meant, only that it was so.

There was a night she was sent for after the last bell. The place is two halls from where we sleep, and the stone there carries sound. I heard

[Note — about a hand’s breadth is lost to water here — E.]

…did not sleep. In the morning she was at her station before any of us, and would not be spoken to.

—Asked what he observed on the night before Grazhân 68, the witness stated…

[Note — water damage spreading from the right corner, made notes on what I think I can decipher —E.]

…as awake. I am often awake now. I know her heart as well as my mother’s; I would know it through any wall in this mountain. It was quick, as it always is when she comes back, and then it was slow, and then it

…[n]ot like a heart that is resti[ng?]…

…âkil by the arm, and she was u…

…the corridor, and the floor…

…o dark to see, but I could hear it leaving her, in beats, as her hear[t]…

…sed with b[oth] hands and would not let m[e]…

…ll the way down, and under Draumâkil’s…

…hea…

—Asked whether he bears hatred toward the Lady Thuringwethil, the witness stated: Yes. She set them on me when I had done nothing, and what she does to the seamstress is a thing for which the ancestors turn their faces away. I hate her. But I have told you what I heard and what I smelled, and nothing besides.

—Asked whether he wished to add anything, the witness asked whether the seamstress would have her ration while this matter is looked into, whether she meets her count or not. The question was noted.

This statement was read back to the witness, who affirmed it and made his mark. He was admonished to secrecy by order of the Lieutenant’s Office. The witness’s heart was steady throughout, save at the questions concerning his captain.

—

AJ 519, Ulubhân 45
Statement of the witness Draumâkil, a seamstress of division C-134-B, offered on interrogation to Ilûkhobh, a military investigator of the third rank.

I am Draumâkil. I have sewn in this division nineteen years, and my station is across the table from the elf’s. You will have had Ozûtalai in here before me, and he will have told you she is not so bad. He says that of everyone. I will tell you now that I did not like her when she came and I am not sure I like her yet, so you may weigh what I say with that in the pan.

She would not take food from our hands at first. When she did take it she wiped the bowl where we had touched it. She would not lie near us to sleep until the cold made her. She had a word for us in her own tongue, and I have none of her tongue, but I know what that kind of word sounds like. My sister waited six winters for light work with a hand the mine had crushed, and joined the ancestors before a place was found. This one was handed a needle on her first day and wept over it.

I fed her anyway when she was slow. Not when she refused. That is the custom, and liking does not come into it.

—Asked what she observed of the Lady Thuringwethil’s first visit, the witness stated that she could not follow what was said. She stated that the Lady spoke softly and the seamstress answered in few words, and that she has heard hunters speak so to an animal already in the snare.

On the day Ozûtalai was bitten I was at my station, and I did not faint, so I can tell you what he cannot. The captain went out. A little after, the cold came, and then the Lady. She had Ozûtalai stand in the middle of the floor. She did not look at the elf once. She watched him, and her creatures were on him, and when he fell they did not stop.

There are eleven of us. None of us moved. I have thought about that a good deal.

The elf stood up. She untied the kerchief he had made her. She folded it, breathing hard, and she set it on her desk. I do not know why she took it off. I do not know why she folded it. Then she walked to the Lady and said one word, and the Lady held out her hand, and the creatures were gone between one blink and the next. The two of them went out together. It was the apķe who moved, and not one of us.

The captain came back a little after that. He sent Ozûtalai to the infirmary and had the rest of us scrub the floor, and told us the day’s count was still owed.

—Asked to whom she made complaint of this, the witness stated: to her captain. Asked whether she now believed that complaint was carried further, the witness laughed and did not otherwise answer.

When Ozûtalai came back he could not see his work. I sat on his one side and she sat on his other, and his count was met.

After that she ate better than any of us, and I said to her face that she had found a patron and sold herself cheap. I said it. I would take it back if words came back. It was some days later that Ozûtalai told me what he had asked her and what her heart did, and by then she had stopped eating altogether, the Lady’s food and ours alike. When she fell at her station I carried her to the healer. She weighed what a bundle of kindling weighs. I told him she had not eaten, because she would not have told him herself.

—Asked whether she had at any time misled the Lady or her attendants as to the seamstress’s whereabouts, the witness stated that she had. She stated that the seamstress had fallen asleep beneath the table, and that when one of the attendants came to fetch her, the witness told it she was at the infirmary. She stated that it looked at her for a long time, and that she knew then it was not the thing itself that was looking.

The next day I was called before the Lady. She did not have me bitten, and she did not have me whipped. She showed me my sister.

[Note — Attached a transcription of what I thought I was able to make out from this water damaged portion. Let me know if you see something different — E.]

…her hand as it was, and she…

…turned her face from me, and the others behind her did the same, back and back, more than I could…

…have been told since by my grandmother that the dead do not come at that one’s whistle, and that it was a made thing and a lie. I believe my grandmother. But what was I to show the healer? There is no mark on me.

We went to the captain then, all eleven, and used the word for it. The division’s count was doubled for ten days after. The captain gave the order, but he did not say whose it was.

The attendant came another time when the seamstress was truly gone. The attendant approached me, not anyone else, and asked me where she, meaning the seamstress, had gone. I said I did not know; this was false. The seamstress was in the infirmary. At the time I believed a lie so small and common would pass unremarked, as has usually been my experience, but the next day the Lady came to the workroom herself. She said I had lied to an officer’s servant, which is insubordination, and that she judged it worthy of the highest degree. She did not ask whether it was so. The captain was made to give the forty himself, there at the cutting table, with the division stood along the wall. His hand was not steady; I will give him that. The elf was made to stand beside the Lady and watch, with the Lady’s hand resting on her bare head. I did not need to be tied. I want that written.

When it was done the Lady’s creatures were at my back, as they had been at Ozûtalai’s throat. That is when I cried out, and not before. The healer will tell you the stripes ran nine days and would not close. He made a report of it, and you will know better than I what that cost him.

It was while I lay on my face in the infirmary that the elf came to me. She had more of our speech by then. She said there was to be no more of it: no lies for her, no action against the Lady, nothing. She said she went to the Lady because she chose to, and that she was content.

She forgets what we can hear and scent. Or she knows, and hopes we are kind enough to pretend.

We argued it for many nights. I asked my grandmother. She said what I knew she would say: it is for the one wronged to say what is done about the wrong, even when what she says is foolish. So we did as she asked. That was four winters ago, and it has not sat easy with any of us for one day of them.

—Asked what the division did in that time, the witness stated: what was left to us.

[Note — Section is water damaged. I think I can make out “accuses” and “no one”? — E.]

There are mornings she comes back and

[Note — approximately two lines lost to foxing — E.]

…and on those days we do not ask.

[Note — water damage again — E.]

…woke me with his hand over my [m]outh, so I would not wake the li…

…I have heard the healer say it to his helpers many times: you press with the whole weight of you, and you do not let up for anything, not fo[r]… t… th…

…did not l… f… a…

…[s]tair… d…

…on my hands un… nt…

…ree days before I cou…

…I did not tie a knot for that night. I did not know what kind of knot it would be.

—The witness then produced from her clothing a length of grey cord, closely knotted. She stated that she cannot write, and that she had tied one knot for each time the seamstress was fetched, beginning the night the seamstress asked them to keep silent. The cord was counted in the witness’s presence and found to bear nine hundred and four knots. It is entered with this statement.

[Note — There is some gray fibrous matter adhered to the bottom of the scroll tube which could potentially be the cord. I have not attempted to retrieve it as I fear trying to pull it out will damage it and the only other means of accessing it would involve disassembling the tube — E.]

This past autumn a counting-clerk I did not know came asking about our cloth. I had given my word, so I told him nothing. I showed him which shelf the ledgers were on.

—Asked to number and describe the Lady’s attendants, the witness stated that she had not tried to count them. She stated that she had counted their shadows, and that the lamp cast only one, and it was the Lady’s.

—Asked whether she was aware that failure to report unlawful conduct is contrary to the Codes, the witness stated that she was. She stated that she had reported it once and seen her division go hungry, and had lied once and been shown her dead, then lied again and been beaten, and had then kept silent four years because the seamstress asked it. She stated that she would take what was owed for that. This matter has been reported to Chief Investigator Lakjašalli for guidance.

[Note — Two pieces of free parchment were fastened over this portion of the scroll with a clip. The first one bore the Grand Seal of the Lieutenant’s Office and indicated that upon examination of the witness and review of the matter concerning non-report of rape, by order of Lord Mairon as transmitted through Halkiran, secretary first rank, there will be no adjudication of guilt for the offense entered, nor punishment assigned. No further explanation is given as to why the decision was made. Perhaps something to look out for in further excavations of the administrative complex? The second one bore the same seal and indicated that the seamstress Draumâkil of Division C-134-B was to receive double the usual pickled herring ration for a term of one year. —E.]

—Asked whether she bears hatred toward the Lady Thuringwethil, the witness stated that she does, but that she does not make this declaration out of malice.

—Asked whether she wished to add anything, the witness stated: You came to me. I did not come to you, and I will tell her so. And I want it written that we did not raise the cry because she asked us not to, and for no other reason.

This statement was read back to the witness, who affirmed it and made her mark. She was admonished to secrecy by order of the Lieutenant’s Office. The witness’s heart was quick throughout, which the investigator judges to be temper.

[Note — I believe there are additional witness statements from this division following, but the quire’s pages are stuck together and I’m concerned that separation may damage them. Will have to consider how to proceed —E.]

—

AJ 519, Ulubhân 46
Statement of the witness Assurakûn, a healer of infirmary CL-23, offered on report to Ilûkhobh, a military investigator of the third rank.

I am Assurakûn, a healer of the third degree assigned to infirmary CL-23. I have held this position for seventeen years and have been a healer for twenty-two, and at all times have conducted myself with honor. Before the Lady Thuringwethil took notice of me, my disciplinary record was limited to two incidents of insubordination towards my division commander, for which I reported myself and required no restraint for punishment. Since Lady Thuringwethil’s involvement in division C-134, I have been disciplined multiple times for insubordination towards her. She often does not offer details as to the offense committed, only stating that it occurred and that she deems it worthy of the highest degree of punishment. The lashes delivered have scarred my back and once impaired my ability to perform my duties for an extended period, when the wounds festered. At that time, I took sick with a fever that lasted four days, during which I was abed.

—Asked the number of prescribed lashes, the witness indicated that he believes it was usually forty, but was never told the prescribed number beyond Thuringwethil’s declaration that the unspecified offense warranted the highest degree of punishment, and found it difficult to count in the moment as the timing of the strokes was irregular and they were often accompanied by what he would only describe as “strange and very disturbing hallucinations.” Forty is his rounded estimate based on the counts he did make and what the healers who saw to him afterward were able to count. Added that most of these lashings were carried out by her attendants and were performed either in his quarters or, on one occasion, in a supply room, outside the presence of an independent healer. The last time it happened, it was done in the corridor, the number was fifty, and his commander was ordered to carry it out, which she did.

—Asked who was aware of these disciplinary incidents, the witness indicated that everyone in the area would have known about the last; other than that he recalls talking to his commanding officer, two friends, and a cousin about it, and that he assumes his colleagues knew but cannot recall a specific conversation.

—Asked if complaints of unjust punishment were made, the witness stated that they were made through his commanding officer.

I first became acquainted with the Lady Thuringwethil’s relevant activities when the sempster Ozûtalai was brought to my infirmary for treatment. That incident was described in the very first report I made concerning unjust punishment. My first acquaintance with the seamstress Nárelótë occurred

[text partially illegible]

…carried her to the infirmary, saying that she had fainted. While I did not observe any acute injuries on her at that time, I did observe symptoms of dehydration and discovered through inquiry that she was not believed to have eaten for several days. Draumâkil offered this information; she did not offer it herself. Indeed, she expressed an unusual lack of interest in eating. I treated her as I have always been taught to treat apķe with this sort of adjustment difficulty — that is, I gave her water and a hard biscuit and talked with her about how the time to join her ancestors will come, but surely they do not want her to join them now. It is hard, yes, it is very hard, but you are not mâlistanza, you are not alone. These people who bring you here, who share with you their food, they do this not because they must, but because they want to. They will be your family if you let them. Life here will be much better if you let them.

She said then that her difficulty did not lie in finding herself too alone. I asked what she meant by that, and at first she refused to explain; but after a time she admitted, albeit with circumspection, that she was unhappy at being made to share her nights with someone, and that at first she had wanted to live but now that she’d survived, she found this mode of living so shameful that she was not glad of it.

Understanding that she was telling me that someone was raping her, I told her there is no shame in wanting to live. Then I asked if she would tell me who it was, and she said it was the Lady Thuringwethil. I asked if she would have me raise the hue and cry on her behalf, and she refused. At the time I assumed these rapes were of a fairly typical sort, that is, some creature without honor goes to someone wretched, and rather than freely offering what they have in excess, demands that person lie with them in exchange for it. I do not always report these rapes if their victims ask me not to, though I try to handle things in other ways.

—Asked if he was aware that failure to report unlawful conduct is contrary to the Codes of Angband, the witness stated that he was, but that he believed it could at times make things worse for the victim if he reported it against their will. He stated that he was willing to suffer punishment for this failure, but said that he would not swear not to do it again. This matter has been reported to Chief Investigator Lakjašalli for guidance.

[Note — One piece of parchment was fastened over this portion of the scroll with a clip. As with the first supplemental parchment found clipped to Draumâkil’s statement, this one indicates that by order of Lord Mairon as transmitted through Halkiran, secretary first rank, there will be no adjudication of guilt for the offense entered, nor punishment assigned. I did not see any other parchments, but I did observe a fair amount of debris around the clip —E.]

—Asked whether the seamstress showed signs of injury at the hands [of] the Lady [Thuringwethil]

[Note — Large section partially missing, illegible; the top half of the name ‘Thuringwethil’ is preserved above — E.]

…clear to me…

…a…d

…ec…

…iate…

…permitted me to examine her only as far as the shoulder. I did not press for more. I have never…

…visits. She… (predominantly, for the most part) not-injure [Note — I can read the negation and the word for ‘hurt’ or ‘injured’ but I’m not sure of the tense or directionality — E.] [E — Never got the chance to ask someone about this, sorry, will look for an opportunity in my travels — S.] [Dearest husband— I don’t see anything indicating that he actually did ask someone, but in another letter he mentions that he was planning to go to Lindon. Did he end up asking you? &If he didn’t, I’m asking — can you decipher anything from this? <3 Sam.]

…not hungry. Within a season she was better fed than I [Note — Water damage, then an unrecoverable portion from a hole in the page, followed by an unfamiliar word that Bâruzimir thinks may be a variant spelling of the term for being without a clan in proximity to what I think is ‘Lady’, but could possibly be ‘Lord’; the final portion of the word is too smeared to be certain —E.]

…hours or even days at a time. Yet…

…wh…

…th…

[The] Lady is sometimes sent out of the mountain on the Lieutenant’s business; my people in the halls know when she goes and when she returns. In the seasons she was away, the seamstress slept, and ate, and the cuts on her fingers closed as they should. When the Lady returned, all of it reversed. The investigator may…

…abr… liga… uisi…g to… inter…

…reported. This seems to have displeased La[d]y Thuringwethil, who…

…what the infirmary i…

…day the Lady came to the ward herself. In all the time before, she had never once crossed my door. An attendant had come asking after the seamstress, and once she had punished another for lying about the seamstress being with me, but she herself had never come. She said she required the seamstress on a matter of military necessity. I asked her to state the necessity.

She did not, so I stated the difficulties myself. The seamstress does not march; she has no pass to leave the mountain. If it was a tent the Lady needed, there are a hundred hands in that division that could stitch one. If the seamstress was due some punishment, the Lady could have her when I discharged her, as the Codes provide, and I would not discharge her until she was fit. The Lady said I was insubordinate and that she judged it worthy of the highest degree.

She did not take me to my quarters or to the supply room. She meant to do it there, in the ward, among the beds. There were nine others in my custody that day, from six divisions. A soldier with one hand, waiting for the stump to close, sat up and said, Not here. She did not look at him.

My commander Bakharma came at the noise. First she recited what the Codes say of custody, by section. The Lady said the Codes did not concern her in this. Then Bakharma said she would take the punishment in my st…

[Note — Unable to decipher the next portion, except for possibly the phrase “seven times”? — E.]

…without disch[arge?]…

…betw… k… t

…bled for two… s… st…

…se… v… unt… ll…

[Note — Unable to make anything out on these next several pages except possibly the letter ‘u’ — E.]

…above us ever heard it.

—Asked whether he bears hatred toward the Lady Thuringwethil, the witness stated that he does. He stated that he has treated many whom he hates, and that it does not change what he sees on a body.

—Asked whether he wished to add anything, the witness stated: I ask that it be written that the seamstress never asked for any complaint against the Lady, and never consented to one, and that whatever she thinks of these proceedings, they are not her doing. If she is angry, let her be angry with me.

This statement was read back to the witness, who affirmed it. Copies of his case reports concerning the seamstress, the sempster Ozûtalai, the seamstress Draumâkil, the hauler Gûrzalam, and his commander Bakharma were likewise read back to him in full. He attested to each as his own and as true, and signed in his own name for the whole. He was admonished to secrecy by order of the Lieutenant’s Office. The witness’s heart was steady throughout, save when he spoke of his commander.

—

CL-23 — CASE REPORT
AJ 515, Grazhân 51
Patient: Ozûtalai, sempster, C-134-B-6D.
Brought by: Four of his division, carrying him.
Presented: Unconscious on arrival. Woke within the hour.
Found: Punctures to neck and shoulders, both sides. I count nineteen pairs, all of one size and one spacing. All bleeding. The blood stays red and wet long past the time it should darken, and smells acrid. Swelling of the neck has pressed the deeper wounds shut and is likely why he lives. Pale, cold. Heart fast and thin.
Done: Pressure. Cold cloths. Blood-broth by the spoon. Kept lying with feet raised. Swelling not reduced; it is holding him together.
Disposition: Kept three days. Discharged to light work. Neck not to be turned for ten days.
For the commander’s notice: Patient states this was given as punishment by the Lady Thuringwethil, with no offense named. Report of unjust and irregular punishment made separately. There is a poison in this bite that prevents clotting, and healers should be told of it. Patient and his division speak of many attendants. I report what I counted.
Forwarded: Grazhân 52.

CL-23 — CASE REPORT
AJ 515, Ulubhân 12
Patient: Nárelótë, seamstress, C-134-B. Taken at Gondolin. First year.
Brought by: Draumâkil, of her division, carrying her.
Presented: Fainted at her station.
Found: Dry. Has not eaten for some days, by her division’s account. Two small punctures at the left shoulder beneath the collar line, a day old or less, already closed. Faint trace of the venom described in the case of Ozûtalai, but far less. Scent of witch-hazel on hair and clothing. Examined to the shoulder only, as the patient permitted.
Done: Water. Plain food. Rest.
Disposition: Kept overnight.
For the commander’s notice: The bite is of the same size and spacing as in the case of Ozûtalai, C-134-B, Grazhân 51. See that report.
Forwarded: Ulubhân 13.

CL-23 — CASE REPORT
AJ 516, Zaghân 9
Patient: Nárelótë, seamstress, C-134-B.
Brought by: Draumâkil.
Presented: Vomiting. Cramping of the belly.
Found: Bathed. Hair oiled and dressed; nails pared and buffed. Better kept than any officer I have treated. Stomach disordered by rich food: honey, fruit, and meats not served in the common hall. Two pairs of punctures, beneath the collar line and at the inner arm above the elbow where a sleeve covers; one pair fresh, one some days old. Scent of witch-hazel in the hair to the root and on the skin of the neck and hands, as from long and close keeping, not from washing. Heart quick. Fingers cold. Examined to the shoulder only, as permitted.
Done: Plain broth. Rest.
Disposition: Kept one night.
For the commander’s notice: Patient is fed foods not drawn from any hall I know. Source not stated.
Forwarded: Zaghân 10.

[Margin, second hand: 9 days. —E.]

CL-23 — CASE REPORT
AJ 516, Rûzhân 18
Patient: Nárelótë, seamstress, C-134-B.
Brought by: Ozûtalai and Draumâkil.
Presented: Fainted. Has not slept, by her division’s account, for many nights.
Found: Thinner than at last admission, although well fed. Hands and feet cold in a warm ward. Needle-cut to the finger, four days unclosed; in her people this should close within the day. Does not rest. Eyes open and unfixed through the night, not as elves rest. Beneath aromatics, oils, and dye, hair dull and coming out in the comb. Punctures as before, two pairs. Heart quickens without evident cause.
Done: Warmth. Food from the infirmary allowance, plainer than she is used to; she kept it down. Witch-hazel withdrawn from her bedside on the second day, after her heart was observed to rise when the jar was opened. Heart quieter after.
Disposition: Kept six days.
For the commander’s notice: None that I can name.
Forwarded: Rûzhân 25.

[Margin, second hand: 4 days. —E.]

CL-23 — CASE REPORT
AJ 516, Rûzhân 21
Patient: Draumâkil, seamstress, C-134-B.
Brought by: Her division, walking her.
Presented: Forty stripes to the back, given this morning at the cutting table.
Found: The stripes are of the ordinary kind, but they are also bitten along their length. Same poison as in the case of Ozûtalai, same size and spacing of punctures. The stripes will not close. Patient walked in and asked to be put on her face.
Done: Pressure, cold cloths, changed often. Clan brought food daily.
Disposition: Stripes ran nine days before closing. Kept twelve days.
For the commander’s notice: Patient states the punishment was ordered by the Lady Thuringwethil for lying to her servant, and given by the captain of C-134-B on her order. Lying to an officer’s servant is not an offense warranting such severity, and as in a prior case involving a worker from C-134-B, the Codes make no provision for disciplinary bites or envenomation. Report of unjust punishment made separately. A seamstress of the same division (see report of Rûzhân 18) was in the ward when the patient was brought in.
Forwarded: Rûzhân 22.

[Margin, second hand: 7 days. —E.]

CL-23 — CASE REPORT
AJ 516, Mughân 30
Patient: Nárelótë, seamstress, C-134-B.
Brought by: Ozûtalai.
Presented: Fainted.
Found: Abrasions at both wrists, superficial, consistent with binding. Two bruises to the upper arm, the breadth of fingers. Punctures as before, three pairs. Bathed, oiled, kept. Scent of witch-hazel. Heart quick. Weight down.
Done: Salve to wrists. Rest.
Disposition: Kept two days.
For the commander’s notice: Binding marks. History not given. The bite is as before.
Forwarded: Mughân 33.

[Margin, second hand: 5 days. —E.]

CL-23 — CASE REPORT
AJ 516, Bashân 6
Patient: Nárelótë, seamstress, C-134-B.
Brought by: Hithriel, cutter, of her division.
Presented: Burn from the pressing iron, back of the left hand.
Found: Burn shallow. Closed within the day. Patient slept the night through. Weight up since Rûzhân. Hair improved. No punctures. No scent of witch-hazel. Heart even.
Done: Dressing.
Disposition: Kept one night.
For the commander’s notice: None.
Forwarded: Bashân 7.

[Note — No mark beside this one. —E.]

CL-23 — CASE REPORT
AJ 517, Zaghân 19
Patient: Nárelótë, seamstress, C-134-B.
Brought by: Draumâkil.
Presented: Fainted.
Found: The gains noted in Bashân are lost. Weight down. Cold. Does not rest. Needle-cuts unclosed. Punctures, two pairs, beneath the collar line. Scent of witch-hazel. Heart quick.
Done: Warmth, plain food, rest.
Disposition: Kept three days.
For the commander’s notice: My people in the halls tell me the Lady Thuringwethil returned to the mountain in the last days of Ulubhân.
Forwarded: Zaghân 22.

[Margin, second hand: 6 days. —E.]

CL-23 — CASE REPORT
AJ 517, Rûzhân 11
Patient: Nárelótë, seamstress, C-134-B.
Brought by: Ozûtalai.
Presented: Fainted.
Found: A fresh-healed line across the left cheek, from the ear nearly to the mouth. By its edges it is self-made, and three days old. Healed clean; it will leave no mark. It is cut across the face with no pattern; it is no clan’s mark and tells no story. Punctures as before. Scent of witch-hazel. Weight down.
Done: Nothing for the cheek; nothing is needed. Rest.
Disposition: Kept two days.
For the commander’s notice: Self-made. I do not believe she meant it to heal.
Forwarded: Rûzhân 13.

[Margin, second hand: 8 days. —E.]

CL-23 — CASE REPORT
AJ 517, Mughân 2
Patient: Nárelótë, seamstress, C-134-B.
Brought by: Draumâkil and Hithriel, carrying her.
Presented: Faint on standing. Pale.
Found: Punctures, four pairs, of different ages. More venom than in any prior report on this patient; the freshest pair bled most of a day. Blood loss greater than before, though far less than in the case of Ozûtalai. All wounds placed beneath the collar line or where a sleeve covers. No other marks. Bathed, oiled, kept. Heart fast and thin.
Done: Pressure. Blood-broth. Kept lying with feet raised.
Disposition: Kept four days.
For the commander’s notice: The loss is larger than before, but the wounds are still placed where cloth covers. The one who did this was angry, and still careful.
Forwarded: Mughân 6.

[Margin, second hand: 3 days. —E.]

CL-23 — CASE REPORT
AJ 517, Bashân 1
Patient: Nárelótë, seamstress, C-134-B.
Brought by: Her division, carrying her.
Presented: Self-made wound.

[Note — The particulars of this report are lost; a band of water damage runs across the page here, as though it had been folded and the fold had lain in wet. What remains is below. —E.]

…deeper than in Rûzhân…

…meant…

Bashân 1: Fever by evening. Taken into custody until fit.
Bashân 2: Fever high.
Bashân 3: Fever breaking. Patient took broth.
Bashân 4: The Lady Thuringwethil came to the ward and demanded the patient on a matter of military necessity, which she did not state. Custody was asserted. The patient left the ward with the Lady, without discharge.
Disposition: Left custody undischarged. Not fit.
For the commander’s notice: You were there.
Forwarded: Bashân 6.

[Margin, second hand: not a numeral this time but a single word. I believe it is the first-person pronoun. —E.]

CL-23 — CASE REPORT
AJ 517, Bashân 4
Patient: Bakharma, chief medical officer, CL-23.
Brought by: Walked in, after finishing her rounds.
Presented: Atypical punishment, received in the ward this day.
Found: Punctures to the neck, shoulders, and arms; many. All of one size and spacing, the same as in the cases of Ozûtalai and Draumâkil. Venom heavy. Bleeding from all. Pale. Heart fast.
Done: Pressure. Cold cloths. Blood-broth. The patient refused to lie down until her rounds were complete.
Disposition: Bled two days. Returned to duty on Bashân 9, against advice.
For the commander’s notice: Punishment was given within the ward, upon the undersigned’s refusal to release a patient from custody without cause stated. It was received by the patient in substitution for the undersigned, as is her right, though the manner of punishment was none prescribed in the Codes. Reports of unjust and irregular punishment and of violation of custody made separately. The patient is my commander and will read this. She should have lain down.
Forwarded: Bashân 6.

CL-23 — CASE REPORT
AJ 517, Bashân 4
Patient: Gûrzalam, hauler, D-71-A. Left hand lost at the wrist; admitted Mughân 48.
Found: Stump reopened along its lower edge after being nearly closed. Patient sat up and stood against orders during the events in the ward this day. Agitated through the night. Would not eat.
Done: Stump re-dressed. Patient kept lying.
Disposition: Discharge put back eleven days.
For the commander’s notice: This patient and eight others in custody witnessed punishment given within the ward. Several have since asked me whether the infirmary is still the infirmary. I did not know how to answer them.
Forwarded: Bashân 6.

CL-23 — CASE REPORT
AJ 517, Grazhân 40
Patient: Nárelótë, seamstress, C-134-B.
Brought by: Draumâkil and Ozûtalai.
Presented: Brought to the door. Patient awake. Declined admission.
Found, as observed from the door: Thin. Head covered. Stands without help. Scent of witch-hazel reached me where I stood. Heart quick.
Done: Nothing. Patient is awake and of sound mind, and cannot be compelled.
Disposition: Patient declined.
For the commander’s notice: None I can act on.
Forwarded: Grazhân 42.

CL-23 — CASE REPORT
AJ 518, Rûzhân 15
Patient: Nárelótë, seamstress, C-134-B.
Brought by: Ozûtalai.
Presented: Fainted.
Found: Punctures, two pairs, beneath the collar line. Bathed, oiled, kept. Scent of witch-hazel. Hands cold. Needle-cuts unclosed. Weight down since Bashân. Heart quick. Examined to the shoulder only, as permitted.
Done: Warmth. Plain food. Rest.
Disposition: Kept two days.
For the commander’s notice: Bite as before.
Forwarded: Rûzhân 17.

CL-23 — CASE REPORT
AJ 518, Mughân 20
Patient: Nárelótë, seamstress, C-134-B.
Brought by: Draumâkil.
Presented: Fainted.
Found: Punctures, four pairs, of four different ages: beneath the collar line, at the inner arm, and one at the inside of the left wrist. Bruising to both upper arms, of several ages. Binding marks at both wrists. Inner eyelids pale. Scent of witch-hazel. Heart quick. Weight down. Examined to the shoulder and the wrist only, as permitted.
Done: Warmth. Plain food. Rest.
Disposition: Kept two days.
For the commander’s notice: Four pairs of four ages; she is fed on more often than before. The bite at the wrist is where her sleeve rides up when she works. Her division will have seen it.
Forwarded: Mughân 22.

CL-23 — CASE REPORT
AJ 518, Bashân 31
Patient: Nárelótë, seamstress, C-134-B.
Brought by: Ozûtalai and Draumâkil. Blood on her skirt.
Presented: Faint on standing. Bleeding from the leg.
Found: Punctures at the back of the right knee, still bleeding, though slowly; dark blood, not pulsing. More venom than at the collar. Older punctures beneath the collar line, at the inner arm, and at the wrist. Binding marks at both wrists, and for the first time at both ankles. Inner eyelids pale. Breathless on the stair. The patient permitted examination of the leg, the bleeding requiring it; this is the first time she has permitted me past the shoulder.
Done: Pressure. Cold cloths. Blood-broth. Kept lying with feet raised. Bleeding stopped by evening.
Disposition: Kept three days.
For the commander’s notice: She is not given time to make back what is taken.
Forwarded: Bashân 34.

CL-23 — CASE REPORT
AJ 518, Grazhân 59
Patient: Nárelótë, seamstress, C-134-B.
Brought by: Hithriel.
Presented: Faint on standing. Bruising at the neck, noticed by her division.
Found: A single pair of punctures at the side of the neck, low, beneath the edge of the kerchief, over the great vein and not the pulse. Two days old. It bled little, but no pressure was held on it, and the bruise has spread and tracked downward to the collarbone, where her collar hides it. Older bites at the arm, wrist, and knee, healing. Binding marks at wrists and ankles. Nails pale and splitting. Inner eyelids pale. Heart quick. Weight down.
Done: Warmth. Plain food. Rest. Iron filings steeped in wine, as a tonic, on the advice of an elven colleague of CL-4. More prepared to send with her at discharge.
Disposition: Kept two days.
For the commander’s notice: The first bite I have seen at her throat.
Forwarded: Grazhân 61.

[Margin, second hand: 12 days. —E.]

CL-23 — CASE REPORT
AJ 519, Rûzhân 65
Patient: Nárelótë, seamstress, C-134-B.
Brought by: Draumâkil and Ozûtalai, supporting her. She walked part of the way.
Presented: Faint. Bleeding from the leg.
Found: A whole bite, the mark of all the teeth and not only the two, high on the inside of the left thigh, over the great vein. Dark blood, steady, not pulsing. Venom heavy. Bled through the day and into the night, and needed pressure by hand for some hours. Older bites at the collar, arm, wrist, neck, and knee, of many ages. Binding marks at wrists and ankles. Thinner than in Rûzhân of last year. Nails pale and splitting. She asks for ice from the cold store and chews it. Breathless at rest. Heart quick at rest and has not been even, her division tells me, since the turn of the year. The patient permitted examination of the leg, the bleeding requiring it.
Done: Pressure by hand, two healers in turn. Blood-broth. Kept lying with feet raised. The tonic again, and a double measure sent home with her division, with liver from the cold store and instructions that she is to have both.
Disposition: Kept five days.
For the commander’s notice: In Mughân of the year before last I wrote that the one who did this was angry, and still careful. There is less care in each report since. The bite is still placed over the vein.
Forwarded: Rûzhân 70.

CL-23 — CASE REPORT
AJ 519, Bashân 22
Patient: Lûghakh, four winters, son of Hithriel, cutter, C-134-B.
Brought by: Nárelótë, seamstress, C-134-B, carrying him.
Presented: Fell on the stair. Cut above the left brow.
Found: Cut clean, the length of a thumb joint. Bled freely, as cuts to the head do. Child frightened but steady. No other injury.
Done: Cleaned. Two stitches. The seamstress held him on her knee throughout and talked to him the whole while in our speech, badly, and made him laugh twice. He did not cry for the needle.
Disposition: Sent home with the seamstress.
For the commander’s notice: The seamstress was not my patient and I did not examine her, but I record what I saw. She is well. Weight up. Color good. Heart even. No scent of witch-hazel. She stayed briefly to hold a dressing for the next patient and would not be thanked. My people in the halls tell me the Lady Thuringwethil has been out of the mountain since the last days of Mughân. I have not been able to write the seamstress well before, and I wished to.
Forwarded: Bashân 22.

CL-23 — CASE REPORT
AJ 519, Grazhân 68
Patient: Nárelótë, seamstress, C-134-B.
Brought by: Draumâkil and Ozûtalai, carrying her. Unconscious. Draumâkil held pressure with both hands the whole way, as she had once seen me do.
Presented: Found by her division in the corridor outside the workroom before the first bell. Ozûtalai heard her heart through the wall, and heard it falter.
Found: All gains noted in Bashân are lost. A whole bite at the innermost thigh, in the fold of the groin, over the pulse and not the vein. Bright blood, rising with each beat of her heart. Venom heavier than in any prior report on this patient. Pale, cold. For a time I could barely hear her heart. Older bites at the wrist and neck, fresh since the Lady’s return. Binding marks at wrists and ankles.
Done: Pressure by hand through the night, three healers in turn, the full weight of the body behind it. Blood-broth by the spoon when she woke near the second bell. Kept lying with feet raised. Toward morning the bleeding at the wound slowed, but bruising has risen at the left flank and the small of the back, where no hand can press. She is bleeding where I cannot reach. When she can keep it down, the tonic again.
Disposition: Kept. Not fit.
For the commander’s notice: Every bite I have recorded on her in four years was placed over a vein. In Grazhân of last year I wrote that the one who did this knows the difference. This one was placed over the pulse. She has nothing left to lose and would not survive another like it. My people in the halls tell me the Lady Thuringwethil returned to the mountain on Grazhân 55.
Forwarded: Grazhân 69, while she is still in my custody.

[Margin, second hand: 1 day. —E.]

—

AJ 519, Ulubhân 47
Statement of the witness Bakharma, a healer of the second degree and chief medical officer of infirmary CL-23, offered on report to Ilûkhobh, a military investigator of the third rank.

I am called Bakharma. I have been chief medical officer of CL-23 for eleven years. Before that I was a field surgeon for forty-one years, with the armies on the march. I served in the fens, at the crossing of the Sirion, and on the plain in the year it burned, and I came home when my hands began to shake in the cold. My disciplinary record reflects some follies of my youth, but at all times I have sought to conduct myself with honor, and have no disciplinary incidents pertaining to dishonesty.

Before going further I will declare what I owe. In the year the plain burned, my unit was pinned in a gully below the river with the elves’ archers on both lips of it and no way out but up into them. The Lady Thuringwethil came over the ridge, and the elves saw something in the sky that I did not see, and they broke and ran. Forty-three of us walked out of that gully. I am one of them; I owe her my life, and have never pretended otherwise.

The Codes say that no loyalty owed to any person stands above the duty owed to the Lord of All. I know this. I have tried to keep it. I tell you about the debt so that you can weigh what I say with it known.

—Asked what she knew of the case of the seamstress Nárelótë, the witness stated as follows.

I know what my healer told me, and what is in his case reports. I read every one of them before I forwarded it, as I read every report that leaves my infirmary. I sealed them and sent them up to the Warden of Infirmaries for the western halls. I kept a copy of each. In the army we copied everything we sent, because dispatches get lost on the march. The habit stayed with me when I came home. I am glad of it now.

I will tell you plainly that when the seamstress first came to us I did not care for her. She was taken at Gondolin. I am not ashamed of what I felt about that city, and I will not dress it up for you. But a case report is a case report, and I forwarded every one.

—Asked about the marks in the margins of her copies, the witness stated that they are hers.

In AJ 516 my healer was punished four times in one year, for insubordination toward the Lady, always to the highest degree, never with the offense named. He is not afraid to speak his mind, but apart from those two old matters he reported on himself, he is not insubordinate. So I laid his disciplinary record beside my copies of his case reports. Every punishment came within ten days of a report on the seamstress going up. I wrote the number of days in the margin of each. I kept writing them for as long as there was anything to write.

After the Lady came into the ward, the marks stopped for a long time. Then there was one more, twelve days after a report rather than ten or fewer. I thought about that one a good deal. I believe it took her twelve days because she no longer cared what we wrote.

—Asked whether she made complaint up her chain, the witness stated that she did, each time a report of unjust punishment came to her, and each time forwarded it under her own seal with her endorsement. She stated that nothing came back down. Not a refusal, not a summons, not a rebuke. Asked whether this was usual, she stated: No.

On the fourth day of Bashân, AJ 517, I was in the next ward when I heard my healer’s voice raised. He does not raise his voice. When I came in, the Lady was standing among the beds and he was standing between her and the seamstress’s bed. I recited to the Lady the provisions of the Codes on custody, section by section, because I thought that if she heard them said aloud by someone of rank she might remember herself. She said the Codes did not concern her in this. Then I said I would take his punishment, by right, as his commander.

I will say why. I am old, and he is not. I have been bitten before, by things in the fens, and lived. And I owed her, so if it had to be someone, I thought it had better be the one who owed.

The Lady looked at me for some time, and then she smiled, and she seemed glad of it. I have thought since that she was glad because it was more than she had come for.

I did not kneel; there was no need. I stood where I was, between the end of the seamstress’s bed and the next, and the cold came into the ward the way it does when she is near. Then her creatures were there. I could not have told you how many. Ozûtalai’s report says he could never count them twice the same, and I could not either. I felt teeth at the side of my neck first, then at both shoulders, then at the inside of my arms. That is the grinding sound the sempster speaks of, and I will not describe it further, except to say that I have been bitten by things in the fens that sounded more like living creatures than these did.

The venom burns going in. Then the burning goes cold, and the blood does not stop. I knew what was happening, because I had read my healer’s reports and treated the sempster myself. I counted my own heartbeats to keep my head, as we teach the young ones in the field. I got to somewhere past two hundred before my knees went, and I was on the floor of my own infirmary, on my side, looking along the boards under the beds.

From there I heard the soldier with one hand shouting, and my healer trying to reach me, and something between him and me that kept him off. I heard the Lady say, in a voice meant for someone other than us, that the healer had already paid for her seven times, and she wondered how many more the commander had in her.

And then the seamstress stood up. I saw her feet come down off the bed, and the hem of her shift, and the bandage on her, and then I lost sight of her above the knee. I heard her cross to my healer, and I heard her stand there a long time without his saying anything. Then she walked to the Lady, and the cold went out of the room all at once, and the teeth were gone, and I was alone on the floor with my own blood running out of me, as my healer has written, into the cracks between the boards.

When it was over I finished my rounds. My healer has written that I should have lain down. He is right, and I would do the same again. There were nine people in that ward who had just watched a thing done in the infirmary that is never done there. They needed to see that the rounds still happen.

—Asked whether her debt to the Lady still stood after that day, the witness was silent for some time. Then she stated: A debt is owed to the one who saved you. I do not know who it was that came into my ward. I do not think it was the same person who came over the ridge. If it was, I think she has forgotten.

—Asked what occurred in Grazhân of this year, the witness stated as follows.

The seamstress was brought in before the first bell on Grazhân 68. I saw her that night. In forty-one years I have seen many people bleed like that, and very few lived. My healer and I and Yarûkh, who is fourth degree and very steady, held pressure in turns until morning. Then the bruising came up at the flank, and I knew she was bleeding inside, where we could not reach.

That morning I went up to the Warden myself. I did not send a report. I told him, in those words, that she will die. I told him the one who did it would do it again, and that she would not survive the next one. He heard me out. He said he would see it handled. He would not tell me how, and I did not press him, because I believed him.

On Grazhân 70 the Lady came to the infirmary again. She did not come into the ward. She stood in the doorway and called my healer and me out into the corridor, and we came. She did not look past us into the ward. I do not think she knew which bed was the seamstress’s, and I do not think she cared. That was not what she had come for.

She said that the healers of CL-23 had been carrying tales above their station, and she said she would teach us where we stood. She then ordered me to produce my cat, which I could not. I have not carried one on my person since I held my command on the march beyond these walls. When matters of discipline arise, I handle them officially, as one handles such things here; I have never had need to conduct a sentence on the spot. In response the Lady held a cat out to me, which appeared to be a regulation instrument, though I know not how she came by it. She said I was to give my healer fifty strokes, there in the corridor, and she would count.

I asked if I might take them in his place.

She said: “And have him strike a superior officer? No.”

I did not argue again. I had seen in my own ward what came of arguing with her. If I refused, I knew who would do it instead, and with what. With the lash, at least, I could choose where every stroke fell. So I chose.

He took off his robe and stood at the wall. The Lady’s attendants restrained his wrists above his head before a single stroke fell; he had made no move to resist. I laid the stripes as the officers of punishment are taught: across the shoulders and the upper back, nothing low, nothing near the spine, nothing at the kidneys, the strokes kept even so that no one place took more than its share. I counted aloud, as an officer would. So did she, a little behind me, so that the two counts never quite matched. I believe she meant them not to.

All the doors along the corridor were open, and no one came out. I want that understood: no one failed us. They had heard what the Lady said, and they knew she was standing there. They stayed where they were, as I would have told them to. But they heard every stroke, and every number in both counts.

The skin broke by the ninth. After that I was laying strokes on opened back, and I kept them as even as I could, so that nothing went deep and no one place carried what another could share. He did not cry out. He breathed hard through his teeth, and twice he put his forehead against the wall, and once his knees bent and he straightened them himself before I had to stop. By the thirtieth the blood had run down to his belt and was dripping onto the floor at his heels, and my arm had begun to feel it. I have not used my arm that way since I was young.

At forty I stopped. Forty is the highest degree; my hand stopped on its own. The Lady said, “Fifty,” and nothing else, and I went on.

At fifty she said that was correct, though by her count it was forty-eight, and by mine it was fifty. She took the cat back from me and wiped it on his robe where it lay folded on the floor, and handed nothing back, and went away down the corridor without looking into the ward once.

When she had gone I took him into the dressing room and washed his back with brine and dressed it with honey and linen myself. I did not let Yarûkh do it. By the next morning there was heat at the edges of three of the stripes. I have been changing the dressings twice a day since, and it is closing. He was at the bedsides by the second bell the next morning, sitting forward on his stool so as not to lean back. I did not order him to rest. I knew he would not.

The seamstress was in the ward the whole time, on the far side of that door. Yarûkh tells me she woke at the count, tried to get up, and fainted, and that he held her down until it was over. I have not asked her about it. She has not asked me.

—Asked whether she was aware that she had administered a punishment exceeding the highest degree, given without an offense named, without an officer of punishment, and without a healer present who was not herself the one giving it, the witness stated: Yes. To all of it. Asked why she did not report it, she stated that she did report it: it is in her own case report on her healer, dated Grazhân 70, a copy of which she has produced. This matter has been reported to Chief Investigator Lakjašalli.

[Note — One piece of free parchment fastened over this section with a clip, bearing the Grand Seal of the Lieutenant’s Office. It indicates that by personal order of Lord Mairon, there will be no adjudication of guilt nor punishment assigned for Chief Medical Officer Bakharma of CL-23 for her conduct towards her subordinate Assurakûn, healer third rank, on the date of Grazhân 70. —E.]

—Asked about the last mark in the margins of her copies, the witness stated: I wrote it that night. I had kept the count for two years. I was not going to stop because the hand was mine.

—Asked as to the present condition of the seamstress, the witness stated that she remains in the custody of CL-23. She has stopped bleeding inside, but is far from mended. She cannot stand without help for long, her left leg gives way beneath her without warning, and she is breathless on any exertion. She is not fit to climb stairs, much less to work. The witness stated that she will continue to certify her not fit for as long as that is true, and that it will be true for some time.

—Asked whether any other officer had sought her records concerning the seamstress, the witness stated that in Bashân of this year accountants had come asking for the custody register of CL-23 as it concerned C-134-B. She stated that he wanted to know which days the seamstress had eaten from the infirmary’s allowance, and that she gave him copies. Asked whether she knew his purpose, she stated: No. He did not say, and I did not ask. A man who wants to know which days a patient ate is usually asking the right question.

—Asked whether she bears hatred toward the Lady Thuringwethil, the witness stated: I owed her my life. I would have paid it gladly. She asked me instead to pay with his back. I do not know what to call what I bear her now.

—Asked whether she wished to add anything, the witness stated: An officer I served under on the march used to say that what is done to the least of his soldiers is done to him. He meant it. He is gone, and I will not say his name in a room like this. But I have tried to keep my infirmary as if he might walk through the door. Write that I tried. And write that my healer had offered no resistance when she restrained him. He willingly submitted. She did not need to restrain him.

This statement and was read back to the witness, who affirmed it. Copies of her forwarding records, her copies of the case reports of the healer Assurakûn, and her own case report on that healer dated Grazhân 70 were entered as exhibits after being read back to her and affirmed. The witness signed for the whole and was admonished to secrecy by order of the Lieutenant’s Office. The witness’s heart was steady throughout, save when she spoke of the corridor.

—

CL-23 — CASE REPORT
AJ 516, Mughân 38
Patient: Assurakûn, healer third degree, CL-23.
Brought by: Yarûkh, healer, who found him in his quarters at the second bell when he did not come to the ward.
Presented: Stripes to the back, given last night in his quarters by the attendants of the Lady Thuringwethil, for insubordination to her, offense not named. Number uncertain; he believes forty. He reports that he could not keep the count, for the strokes came irregularly and were accompanied by things he would not describe to me.
Found: Stripes across the back from the shoulders to the waist, some low, some crossing the spine, unevenly laid. Bitten along their length, of the same size and spacing as in the cases of Ozûtalai and Draumâkil, C-134-B. Venom present. The stripes will not close. I count thirty-eight stripes clearly and cannot be certain of the rest.
Done: Washed with brine. Honey and linen. Pressure where bleeding was worst.
Mughân 40: Heat and swelling along eleven of the stripes. Pus at the crossings. Fever by evening. I forbade him the ward, and for once he obeyed me.
Mughân 41–43: Fever high. Abed. Did not know Yarûkh on the second night. Wounds opened, cleaned, and packed twice daily.
Mughân 44: Fever broken. Took broth.
Disposition: Kept abed six days in all. Returned to light duty Mughân 47, against advice. He will scar.
For the Warden’s notice: This is the fourth such punishment of this healer this year, each for insubordination to the Lady Thuringwethil, none with an offense named, each to the highest degree, none before an officer of punishment or an independent healer, and several with other irregularities. I have laid his disciplinary record beside the case reports he forwards on the seamstress Nárelótë, C-134-B. Each punishment falls within ten days of such a report going up. I ask the Warden to look at the dates. Report of unjust punishment made separately, under my seal.
Forwarded: Mughân 39, with follow-up Mughân 47.

CL-23 — CASE REPORT
AJ 519, Grazhân 70
Patient: Assurakûn, healer third rank, CL-23.
Brought by: Walked, with the undersigned.
Presented: Fifty stripes to the back, given this morning in the corridor outside the ward of CL-23 by the undersigned, on the order of the Lady Thuringwethil, who held the count. Offense stated by the Lady: carrying tales above our station. No such offense is in the Codes.
Found: Fifty stripes across the shoulders and the upper back, laid evenly. None low, none near the spine, none at the kidneys. Skin broken from the ninth. Bleeding from all, but no venom; the blood darkens and stops as it should. Bruising at both wrists where he was held by the Lady’s attendants. He offered no resistance before or during.
Done: Washed with brine. Honey and linen.
Grazhân 71: Heat at the edges of three stripes. No fever. Dressings changed twice daily. He was at the bedsides by the second bell, sitting forward so as not to lean back.
Disposition: Returned to duty on Grazhân 71, at his own insistence. Not abed.
For the Warden’s notice: The punishment exceeded the highest degree. It was given for no offense in the Codes, before no officer of punishment, with no healer present but the one laying the strokes. I asked to take it in his place and was refused. I laid the strokes, and I report it. Report of unjust punishment made separately, under my seal, against the Lady Thuringwethil and against myself. I went to the Warden in person yesterday concerning the seamstress Nárelótë, C-134-B. I set that date beside this one for the Warden’s attention.
Forwarded: Grazhân 70.

CL-23 — CASE REPORT, CONTINUED CUSTODY
AJ 519, from Grazhân 68
Patient: Nárelótë, seamstress, C-134-B. In custody of CL-23 since Grazhân 68; see the report of Assurakûn, healer third rank, of that date.
Attending: The undersigned, from Grazhân 70.
Grazhân 70: Woke at the count in the corridor. Tried to rise and fainted. Held by Yarûkh until it was over. Grey. Pulse fast and thin. Thirst. Confused on waking; knew her own name but not the day.
Grazhân 71: Bleeding within has stopped; the venom is spent. Bruising risen across the left flank, the groin, and the left thigh. Deep ache in the flank and back. Left leg weak; she cannot lift it from the bed. The front and inside of the thigh are numb to the touch. Low fever, as when the body takes back what it has spilled. Faints if raised to sitting. Clearer of mind.
Ulubhân 4: Sits with support. Takes broth, liver, the tonic. Fever gone. Bruising yellowing. Leg still weak; numbness unchanged. Wakes often at night. Starts at the sound of footsteps in the corridor.
Ulubhân 16: Stands with two to hold her. Left knee gives without warning. Breathless and heart racing after a few steps. Pale at the inner eyelids, nails, and lips. 
Ulubhân 36: Walks the length of the ward with a stick and a hand at her elbow, limping. Cannot manage the step down into the dressing room. Firm, tender swelling still deep in the groin. Thigh numbness lessening at the edges. Sleeps a little better. Still pale. Eats what she is given.
Disposition: Not fit. Custody continued. Certified by the undersigned as chief medical officer for thirty days from this date, to be renewed for as long as it remains true.
For the Warden’s notice: The ward door is kept by one of us at all hours. She has had no visitors but her division. They come every evening and sing at the door, a hunters’ call; it is not against any rule and I have not stopped it. She does not ask for anything. I record that she is alive.
Forwarded: Ulubhân 36.

—

AJ 519, Ulubhân 40
Second statement of the witness Surkimâghan, an accountant second rank, offered on report to Sírval, a military investigator, [Note — this text is partially illegible; I think this word is ‘first’, as in first rank? The rest is badly smeared. — E.]

…I have kept the accounts of the C divisions for nine years, in the counting-house of the western stores, and at all times have conducted myself with honor. In Bashân of this year I began a routine reconciliation of the records for the C-134 section, which was drawn by lot. I set the ration distribution for all workers against the counts credited to each station, and noted that in C-134-B there was one worker, a Nárelótë, who received nothing for runs of days: three days, five, once eleven. Yet the count at this worker’s station was met on every one of the days she was present. A worker who does not eat cannot sew a full count for eleven days. Either the count was false, or someone was feeding her who is not in the ledgers.

At this stage I considered three theories: First, that these were accounting errors on the part of the disbursers — it seemed unlikely to me as this was the only worker in the section whose records appeared this way, but was possible. I summoned the captain of SD-22 for questioning, and was satisfied from his answers that the records were accurate, and that his own division had noticed the same thing and considered it odd, but did not pursue further action as they felt it was not for them to flag an instance of someone receiving less than they should, instead of more.

The second theory was that perhaps she was fed by her friends or clan, which I considered improbable for a number of reasons. First, this worker was an apķe, taken in Gondolin, and these runs of days began within three weeks of her arrival, which seemed very swift for an adoption; second, she met her count every day she was present, which qualified her to receive rations on those days. Even if she were being fed, why would she not collect what was due to her? Routine adjustment difficulties might account for missing one, two, or even as many as three days, but I have never seen as many as eleven, nor had anyone else I asked in my division. I put this theory aside.

My next theory was that perhaps she was in the infirmary. It would be an odd pattern for infirmary visits, for her to be there for multiple days in a row yet still present at her station to meet her count, but it would explain where she was eating. So I sent my junior to CL-23 to ask the chief medical officer to present her custody register as it pertained to C-134-B. My junior said that she provided copies without asking why. When I set her days against the missed disbursements, the infirmary accounted for fewer than one in three disbursements missed, and on most of those days the seamstress’s count was excused, as one would expect. The other days still had no explanation.

And there was another matter. Three times in two years, C-134-B drew fine cloth from the stores against no order: dyed silk, and a lawn so fine I was unfamiliar with its name and had to send it to the weavers to learn it. No garment of that cloth went to any store in this mountain. When I came to the division asking about it, workers would tell me nothing, but one of them showed me which shelf the division’s own books were on. The cutter’s cloth-book there shows each length going to the station of the seamstress Nárelótë, and beside each, in the cutter’s hand, a mark I was told meant it was “for the Lady.” Which lady? They all bent their heads and hesitated. I know some in my place would have threatened them at that time, and even I might have done so when I first started nine years ago, but my mentor in the counting-house has taught me that one learns far more from workers at ease than those who are wary, so I tried to reassure them that it was not my desire to sentence anyone to the lash, but they all stayed quiet, and I let it go.

Then I summoned the captain of the division, Assupilik, to the counting-house to explain the discrepancies. I did this in the informal way, serving him good food and wine, in an audience room where he sat against the wall and I sat nearest the door with the table between us. He said first that his division was diligent, and that in her first year the seamstress Nárelótë had been slow and the others had helped her. I asked about the eleven days. He said she must have eaten with her clan. I asked him which clan, and he said he did not know. I asked about the cloth.

To the cloth, and to the other inconsistencies, the captain stated it was by the command of the Lady Thuringwethil. Having grown at ease in my presence and seeming proud of the position he had attained, he admitted that while anyone could make reports about his conduct, they would no sooner do so than it would be found out by her, and that she would immediately redress such behavior towards him. I asked him what he meant, but I think the manner of my asking made him wary. He would not explain, but he said that by her graces he would remain secure in his position for as long as she favored the charms of this woman Nárelótë, and that in this matter the Lady’s interest had not waned for several years.

Given his admissions, I graded the accounts of C-134-B as Referred for Inquiry and made a report of corruption and of suspected rape and prostitution of a subordinate to my commanding officer. He made a report of the same to his own commanding officers, who appeared to take it seriously at the time but took no action on it of which I am aware. At the time, this struck both of us as abnormal. I had never before seen such a case, but my commanding officer had seen two, and he said that in both instances inquiries were opened within a day of his report. At a minimum we thought that the seamstress must not be left under the command of one who had made admissions of prostituting her. My commander made repeated inquiries and was eventually told that at the moment the situation was not dire, as the seamstress was in the infirmary’s custody and was expected to remain so for some time, and thus was not currently subject to her captain’s orders. This he found very strange and unsatisfying, as he did not feel it addressed the problem at all.

During this time, I personally went to CL-23 with my junior and asked the chief medical officer whether any reports had gone up from her infirmary concerning the seamstress’s division. She showed me her forwarding records: two years of case reports and reports of unjust and atypical punishment, sent under her seal to the Warden of Infirmaries, and nothing come back down. I learned from the infirmary and from the other workers in the seamstress’s division, who were now far more willing to talk, that numerous other individuals had attempted to make reports of the same conduct, with the only apparent result being the Lady’s retributions against them.

I came to believe that the purpose of these retributions was to conceal her conduct from those who outranked her, so I sought audience with Lord Mairon to report this conduct to him personally. My commanding officer supported me in these efforts, but even so I was initially unsuccessful, as I feared that disclosing the purpose of my mission would lead to retribution against myself, my clan, and my commander, and the secretaries would not hear a request for audience without hearing the reason for it.

After making my pleas several times, one of the secretaries finally asked if I would prove my earnestness by submitting myself to the torture. I said that I would, and he made as if to lead me down to the torture chambers, bringing us down several flights of stairs before stopping abruptly and telling me that I must disclose the substance of my matter and that it would be treated with the utmost discretion. Again I refused, and he shook his head and said that if I troubled the secretaries again with the same matter without being willing to disclose its substance, I would be declared insubordinate. Then he walked away.

It was as I was walking back to my quarters that I first encountered the Lady Thuringwethil herself. The hall looked and sounded empty, as it often was at that hour, with nary a heartbeat to fill the silence. It felt unusually cold, and there was an odd faint scent of witch-hazel, but no scent of life. I believe now that Lady Thuringwethil had concealed herself within an alcove, for after I passed her voice sounded behind me, asking why I did not kneel and offer obeisance. Very startled to hear a voice where I was certain no one was present, I turned and saw the Lady with several of her attendants stood behind me in the corridor. None of them seemed to be alive, I could hear no heartbeats nor digestion nor any other sign of life, but suddenly my nostrils were choked with the scent of blood.

Again the Lady Thuringwethil asked why I did not kneel. In form she looked much like an elvish woman, but her skin was strange, stretched over bones, and her eyes appeared like clotted blood, entirely black. Her attendants milled about her, grinning hideously and making strange sounds like rending metal. One clutched at the ceiling with spider-like hands and crept towards me, head turned the wrong way, eyes staring at me. The terror of this broke my stupor; I turned and ran, thinking I heard my ancestors calling me, the Lady and her attendants’ ghastly laughter and strange scrabbling noises on my heels. For the next two days I hid in my commander’s rooms, thinking I heard their voices, fearing they would find me if I ventured out.

On the third day I left and made my way to the section of large halls that were as close as I could get to the throne room, where I encountered a wondrous stroke of luck. I heard the uncanny vibration in the ears that comes with being around the aklash-hai, then saw Lord Mairon making his way towards me and quickly threw myself in his path, pleading with him for an audience. What response he might first have had I cannot imagine, for I made my first entreaties to his feet and to the hem of his robes, which I was clutching, but he did not rebuke me. Instead after a few moments he bid me rise and accompany him, and said that he would hear my concerns after he had finished attending the Lord of All, in whose presence he was presently due.

When we reached the throne room, he bid me wait outside with the secretary until his audience was complete. While I was waiting, I saw what I believed was one of the Lady Thuringwethil’s attendants observing me from the shadow of a column, and became frightened enough that the unworthy thought passed my mind of hiding myself within the throne room; but the secretary restrained me and made a sign that I should not enter, and the moment passed. After perhaps an hour or a little less, Lord Mairon exited the throne room and caused me to be conducted to his office above the secretaries, where he appeared several minutes later and bade me explain the substance of my concerns.

To these concerns he seemed to listen with great gravity, asking a number of questions. He then had the substance of my statement transcribed for me and then read back, asking if it was correct, which I said it was, and I signed it. He then advised me that I was to maintain secrecy around this discussion henceforth unless ordered otherwise personally by himself or his chief secretary, which I have done until this very moment, offering this additional statement as he has ordered for these proceedings.

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Chapter End Notes

"Apķe", lit. "louse" (borrowed from Hurrian), is a moderately derogatory Orcish slang term for 1st generation thralls in Angband/Utumno, especially those who are perceived as lazy, entitled, or not wanting to work, with a secondary implication of lacking family or clan ties.

"Mâlistanza", lit. "dead-soul" (compound of neo-Orcish "mâl" [dead] + Hittite "istanza" [soul]), is one of several terms used to refer to the state of being without a clan. Originally referring to individuals cast out of their clan as the most extreme version of a sanction for misbehavior. In later years under Angband & Utumno's influence, this word came to encompass individuals whose clans were wiped out, and sometimes was applied to thralls who escaped Angband alone, leaving all the members of their clan behind.

Angband, a regime under which everyone below Melkor is considered a thrall and everyone above working age is handed a work assignment, does not recognize consensual sex work. The laws of Angband, codified in a form known as the Lieutenant's Codes, recognize the circumstance in which an individual is provided with lifesaving aid in exchange for sexual favors as rape, and define the crime of prostitution not as the provision of sexual favors in exchange for goods and services, but as the selling of another person for one's own profit.