Part 43 – Broken
T
ime dragged on for Theomin in his prison cell. Though it had only been two days, the dragging of time felt as if it had been a week. The prison cell was very crampt and uncomfortable. Smaller than one room back on his farm, it housed himself and another, who looked obviously like a criminal. Two cots sat at the opposite end of the barred cell. The bars themselves were forged of dark rot iron. Nice enough for fencing anywhere else, but a sad reminder to Theomin that he had been imprisoned in the dark corner of the prison.
The darkness was horrible. Little sunlight found its way into the prison. What little light they did have was
provided by torches lit about the beams of the main foyer of the prison. The foyer was what separated the women’s cells on the opposite side of the prison from the men’s. Clear across the other side of the prison, Theomin could see Eleswith, often pacing back and forth in her cell. She was alone, having a prison cell all to herself. Theomin was not sure if that was ideal or not. He would have been glad he had company, just not the criminal he knew the other prisoner was.
The continuous question of what he did wrong plagued him as he could not fathom why he had been imprisoned. He murdered nobody in Bree-land save those goblins. The only other reason he would be there was Eleswith. Prior to meeting her in the Lonelands a few days ago, he did not know who she was. If she had murdered somebody, he would not have known it but they could find him guilty by association. That could have been the only reason.
Nobody came by to visit Eleswith or Theomin for the two days they were being held in prison. The only one who came by was a quirky little hobbit baring food and drink for the prisoners. He was a short pudgy fellow 
with an eye patch over his right eye and plastered on his face was always a delightful grin. During each meal, he would trot on into the prison, giving each of the prisoners their food, which was not that difficult since it was the same old gruel every single day. Every time he would make his way to the cells, he would welcome the prisoners as if it was his first time seeing them. “Hullo!” he would say to everybody with a hardy glee. Most curiously, he would ask what their names were, even if he had already met them. Theomin just figured it was an interesting quark of his overly friendly personality. All of the prison inmates treated the little hobbit with a smile and an overwhelming sense of respect. Some even bowing to the bearer of food. “Oh, thank you kind sir,” was his continuous response to the unremitting respect. Toby was his name. Toby Took of Tuckborough and for the longest time, he was the only visitor.
Finally, on the evening of the second day, a visitor came into the prison. He headed over to the women’s side of the prison and spoke, at length, with Eleswith. The man came with two body guards beside him. He was a very light skinned man, had short cropped brown hair parted and groomed meticulessly, and had a handlebar moustache; groomed to perfection. He had a strong minded bearing, moving with purpose and intention. He looked not like one wandering into the prison to have a light conversation but rather ready for a confrontation.
At last he ended his conversation with Eleswith and made for Theomin with all haste and purpose. He reached Theomin and just staired at him with intense eyes, holding in some rage that he needed to have free from him. “What is your name?” he finally said.
“I am Theomin of Rohan,” he strongly said without hesitation.
“It matters not where you are from,” he said angrily. “Do you know who I am?” Theomin shook his head. “I am the father of the man you killed.”
“I killed nobody,” said Theomin with all certainty. “I have only killed orcs, goblins…”
“You are a liar and a murderer,” he interrupted Theomin, his lips distorted in sorrowful anger and his eyes enraged. “You come to my land to murder and pillage and plunder and you think its okay, man from Rohan. You think that decent folk like us will allow the likes of you and your filthy crowd to threaten my people, to kill my son, to destroy everything good that decent folk stand for? You are mistaken and your every breath insults the goodness of my people.” His breath increased as anger took him. “I wish I could personally drive a sword in your gut but that sentence is too short for you. I wish you could rot in here for
the rest of your days but that is too long and you take up much needed space. So my punishment is this, man from Rohan: Nightly, my other son will remove you from your cell and he will beat you within an inch of your life. He will do this while you are tied up, helpless, and at your most vulnerable. That way you can see what it is like to feel real pain.” At that moment, his son came through the door. The man that came through the door was the same man as the man with the deep voice in the ruins two nights past. Eleswith called him Kronog and he looked at Theomin with such a grin as to put fear into the bravest of men. He smiled from ear to ear with wide eyed eagerness to inflict as much pain as he possibly could. “This is Gerald Tenderlarch, and he is now my only son. Tonight is your first night you will serve your sentence.” One of the guards opened the cage and bound Theomin’s wrists together behind his back. Theomin did not struggle for one moment as they bound his hands. One moment later, someone entered the prison and upon approaching the jail cell took one glance at Theomin. He then looked man who sentenced Theomin and whispered something into his ear. His shoulders shrunk at the news given to him. He looked at Theomin saddened, “I will have to miss the first event, man from Rohan,” he said mockingly. The man started to leave with his guards and the man who brought the news but turned to say to his son, “Gerald, don’t be gentle.” Gerald gave an even larger grin.
Gerald gave a push to Theomin as he made for the door, “Come on you filth,” Gerald said to Thoemin. He kicked Theomin out the door and out the front of the prison gate. He pulled Theomin around to the back of the prison and pushed him up against an old ruined stone pillar that surrounded a single grave site.
“I thought your name was Kronog,” he said to Gerald, who was ready to throw the first punch.
“So, Eleswith told you,” he said. “That’s okay,” he stated as he threw the first punch in Theomin’s face, knocking him back, but Theomin kept his feet. “Gerald is my name, but I like the name Kronog,” with his 
other fist he punched Theomin on the other cheek. In pain of the punches, Theomin almost fell to the ground but somehow stayed up, “Kronog has an interesting ring to it, a bit like an orc, because sometimes I feel like an orc,” he smirked and punched Theomin again. Thoemin, clearly weak kneed stayed up, barley holding himself on his feet. “You know not what happened after you left. That pet of yours scratched and clawed at my chest. As it tried for my face I grabbed its little head and threw it to those disgusting goblins.” He punched Theomin again, yet he still did not fall. “Those goblins killed most of my men,” he looked disturbed, “including the woman I loved. I saw her being ripped apart by those nasty things while I stood helpless and bleeding.” He looked down with a sense of sadness, “So I escaped and ran back here. I alerted the guard of two people bearing your description. I told them you killed my brother.”
Though Theomin was almost out of strength, he had to reply, “And did we kill him?”
Gerald gave a slight chuckle, “you didn’t,” he then approached Theomin and whispered in his ear, “but you took way more that I cared for than my brother.” With that he gave an enormous punch to Theomin’s gut, to which Theomin at last fell to his knees, in intense pain. He felt his stomach churn as air became difficult to find. After a few moments of not being able to breath, he gasped for air as if he finally found his way out of a deep lake. “By the way,” Gerald said, walking around Theomin like he was bird of prey circling its victim, “Did you know my father is mayor of Bree? I’ll be you didn’t know that.” Thoemin’s heart sank in fear with the realization that he was accused of murdering the son of the mayor of Bree. “Mayer Graeme Tenderlarch, he is, and you are convicted of killing his eldest son. Kind of makes you wish you stayed in Rohan, does it not?” Gerald finally stopped before Theomin as Theomin looked up at him. “Kind of makes you lust for home,” he punched Theomin, “for your bed,” he punched him again, “and for your mother,” he grabbed Theomin by his shirt and butted him strongly, hitting his nose. A crack came from it as a sudden pain ran through the entirety of his face. Through all the hits, though, Theomin stayed on his knees, while the feeling of blood rushed down his face. “Kind of makes you wish,” one more punch, “you never met me,” Gerald finally swung his leg up and kicked Theomin in the face with his boot as Thoemin fell back on the ground and finally blacked out.
Special thanks to Arathaert who played the part of Toby Took of Tuckborough.
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