WIP from ‘Take Thy Brother’s Hand’

His hands were chained almost together high above his head, straining the muscles of his back and arms, pulling against his shoulder and elbow joints. His fingers could not touch, no matter how he stretched them. They grew numb, purple and bruised like the raw flesh around his wrists. To amuse himself in the total darkness and convince himself that his hands were still attached to his body, Gadwar took to swinging his chained wrists against the stone of the dungeon wall, reveling in the sharp bite of the metal against his bleeding flesh and the dull clang of stone and iron. He played cacophonies to drown out the echoes of Finrod’s sea shanties. Edrahil screamed for him to stop, also Beren. Petulantly, Gadwar pulled at the chains, until his strength was once more exhausted, leaving him to hang limp. When the wolves came, Gadwar twisted and turned, freshly dislocating his elbows, until he faced the wall and could attempt, as best one could, to hide from the terrible process. Crying, he cursed his brother as Talcholdir was disemboweled, sobbing and jerking at the chains to try and mask the dying sounds of the elf beside him, slamming metal against stone to create a ringing note loud enough to hide the noise of entrails and spine crushed by wolfish teeth. Long after Tacholdir died and the werewolf feasted in his corpse, Gadwar sobbed against the dungeon wall and felt the pull of the chains against his wrists.