Title: Windows of the Soul
Author(s): Fimbrethiel & Sian
Beta: Alex
Contact: Fimbrethiel@yahoo.com & Sian265@aol.com
Type: FPS AU
Fandom: LOTR
Pairing: Erestor/Gildor & Erestor/Glorfindel
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Strong sexual situations between Males, Extreme Violence
and Graphic Images.
Disclaimer: We are shamelessly playing with Tolkien’s Elves, but we
swear it is just for fun! All the lovely Elves are the property of
the esteemed Prof. Tolkien’s estate.

Summary:  By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked to Lindon
comes... a serial killer is on the loose

A/N First of all, I have never seen, nor do I watch CSI! Most of the
ideas and nifty comments made come from Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and
John Douglas. The forensic information came from old college
schoolbooks of mine; of course the story has been embellished to add
to the mystery and excitement. Thanks to my wonderful Fimbrethiel
who makes my words sound better, read better, and make sense!

A/N from Fim:  I *do* watch CSI religiously!  I've always had a
morbid fascination with forensics, so when Denise approached me with
the idea of co-authoring a murder mystery, I jumped at the
opportunity.  She gets the majority of the credit for this story -
without her research and creativity, this story would not be here.


******************************
Chapter: 1/11

Lindon, 1640 of the Second Age

The rain poured down, sheeting the windows, while lightning rent the
sky.  The cobblestone streets were awash.  Thunder rumbled heavily,
and a sudden peal shook the walls of the palace.

******************************

The blade sliced neatly through skin, tissue, muscle.  No ragged
tears, only clean lines, leaving thin rivulets of blood to trail
down death-pale cheeks. There, he thought, it could not see him now. 

He looked down into the dead blue orbs staring back at him, seeing
him, knowing him… knowledge of his deeds blazed out as if his
accuser was standing next to him, shouting out his secrets.  He
shook himself.  No, they were dead, no image recorded in their
depths that were severed from blood and tissue. 

They were useless.

******************************

"Erestor, there is someone at the d—aaahhh!"  Gildor's words hitched
as the next driving thrust into his body tore the breath from his
chest.  He was currently resting on his knees, stretched forward at
the waist on Erestor's bed, his hands clenching desperately at the
rungs of the headboard to keep himself from being slammed through
the wall as Erestor pummeled him from behind.

The dark Elf paused and listened for a moment, but heard nothing
except the rattle of rain driving against the windowpanes and the
steady rumble of the storm overhead.  "No, there is not; it is
simply thunder," was Erestor's growled reply, before resuming his
onslaught.

A sharp rapping was undeniable the harbinger of an unwanted guest -
most definitely.

Gildor's arms were outstretched, muscles quivering with the strain
of keeping himself upright.  "Door - nngggg - Erestor -"

This interruption is most untimely, Erestor thought dimly.  "Go
away!" he barked, his body tight and tingling with impending orgasm. 

Reaching below Gildor's well-muscled body, he grasped his lover's
length and stroked firmly.  Gildor nearly howled and bucked back
against him.  "Erestor?!" the voice called, full of concern.

"Go.  AWAY."  Erestor hissed, renewing his assault on Gildor's poor,
aching arse. 

His hand pumped the thick, pulsing shaft rapidly, and Gildor's
passage undulated wildly as he spilled in spurting jets of creamy
fluid over Erestor's pumping fist, wailing with the strength of his
orgasm.  The strong ring of muscle tightened almost painfully around
Erestor's swollen member, and with a hoarse shout, he climaxed
powerfully in Gildor's shuddering body.  Falling forward heavily,
his weight sent Gildor crashing down on the bed where they lay
panting, utterly exhausted.

Unfortunately, that untimely knocking came again.  Muttering a
lengthy string of curses in the High Speech, Erestor untangled
himself from Gildor's sweaty form and stood, shrugging on a light
robe as he stalked to the door.  "Coming!" he shouted in annoyance
at the persistent knock.

Throwing open the door, he was greeted by the smirking face of
Captain Dórion, who took in Erestor's flushed face, tousled hair and
the unmistakable reek of sex hanging heavily in the air.  "From the
look and sound of it, you already did," he remarked snidely.

"This interruption had better be of dire importance, Dórion,"
Erestor hissed, greeting the Captain with distaste.

Over Erestor's shoulder, Captain Dórion eyed Gildor's nude body
sprawled face down on the rumpled bed, then allowing his eyes to
roam appreciatively over Erestor's partially clad form.
"Impressive..." he murmured.

"Get on with it," Erestor demanded.  "What brings you here so late
at night, disturbing me from... my leisure?”

Sobering, Captain Dórion turned a suddenly somber eye to the dark
Elf.  "I am here at His Majesty's request, Erestor," he said by way
of apology.  "Gil-galad needs you." 

Erestor's dark eyebrow quirked in an unasked question.

"There has been a murder, Erestor."

****************

Dark and deserted were the halls as Erestor and his assistants,
Gildor and Saelbeth, followed Captain Dórion, their boot heels
clicking noisily in the intricate tile work.  Erestor stared after
the broad back of Dórion, wishing that it had been any other who
summoned him to a crime scene.  He and the arrogant head of the
palace guard had clashed before.  Why the Captain still persisted in
his pursuit of Erestor, he did not know.  Erestor had never
encouraged him in any sense, yet Dórion was relentless.  Having
Captain Dórion witness his liaison with Gildor was sure to stretch
an already tense working relationship nearly to the breaking point.

Erestor was not unaware of the power of his appeal, and had used
those tools at his disposal in the past. 

Black as raven's wings was Erestor’s hair, straight and heavy, thick
and silken; it hung to the back of his knees.  His skin was as pale
as the season's first snow, the whiteness broken only by almond
shaped onyx eyes and the ruby redness of his lips.  Erestor was tall
and slender, his figure suited to that of an archer.  He moved with
poise, his motions graceful as a dancer’s, and many underestimated
this deceptive fragileness for weakness or were taken unaware by his
beauty. 

But Erestor was a private, analytical Elf, his mind always occupied
by the complexity of the psyche.  Most of Erestor's thoughts were
dark; one could not see or experience what he had and not be shaped
by those events.  While most Elves could enjoy the galas held almost
nightly in Lindon's vast Halls, Erestor’s shrewd eyes saw only
security breeches, dangerously dark corners, and opportunities for
mayhem.

Following silently behind Erestor, Gildor and Saelbeth carried heavy
black bags, tools that Erestor had perfected and used in his
investigations.  Erestor heard the excited buzz of the crowd
gathered in the hallway before he reached the servant’s wing.
Stopping at the entrance to the corridor, he observed the crowd of
servants and nobles that talked nervously among themselves.  His
eyes swept over each face, memorizing the features for later perfect
recall.  Most he recognized, but a flash of gold caught and held his
eyes.  That face he did not know, and he would have remembered if he
had.  This Elf was unknown, and Erestor stared a moment longer than
was his wont. 

Captain Dórion stopped, noticing for the first time that Erestor was
no longer behind him.  Erestor waited until Dórion drew close, then
ordered, "Captain, this hall is to be cleared and each person
returned to his or her room.  I want a guard on each door, and they
are not to leave or speak to anyone until they have been
interviewed."  Erestor's piercing gaze bored into the Captain's, but
the foolish Elf spoke anyway.

"I do not take orders from you, Erestor," the Captain stated
defiantly, the hurt over witnessing the Noldo’s recent tumble with
Gildor plain in his voice.  But even as Dórion said the words, he
knew them to be untrue.  Not only was Erestor advisor to the King,
he was also head of any investigations in Lindon.  Erestor also was
a Lord, and nobility outranked the palace guard, Captain or no.

One sharp black brow arched and Erestor's eyes bore into the
Captain’s.  "Do you not, Captain?" he asked, his tone mocking. 

The battle of wills did not last long.  The Captain swore angrily
under his breath, but he backed down.  "It will be done, Lord
Erestor," was the Captain's only response before spinning away and
barking sharp orders to his men. 

Erestor waited until most of the bystanders had been cleared before
moving to the open door.  His teeth ground together when he heard
the sound of voices coming from his crime scene, and again Erestor
paused on the threshold, his snapping black eyes landing on the Elf
in charge.

"Why are there healers present?  I was under the impression that
there was a dead body here?"  Erestor's calm voice halted all
conversation, and all eyes flew towards him. 

Gil-galad recognized the look in Erestor's eyes.  The King knew his
Chief of Special Investigations was very watchful of his crime
scenes.  He glanced quickly at his herald before addressing his
Advisor.  "There is a body, Erestor.  When I received word, I
thought it prudent for a healer to be in attendance.  They were
called at my direction.  We were unsure what we were dealing with at
first." 

Gil-galad's words did nothing to ease the look of irritation that
briefly crossed Erestor's face.  Erestor swept a hand before him
gesturing toward the door, clearly an invitation for Gil-galad and
Elrond to leave the room. "I will need to speak with each of you,
and of course I do not need to tell you, my Lords, that there should
be no discussion outside this room." None present wished to push
Erestor's patience. Gil-galad gave his advisor a slight smile that
was not returned as he and the others filed past Erestor. 

Erestor stood in the doorway, his mind taking in the picture before
him. The room was typical of a servant's quarters, bearing the
standard furniture; a single bed, nightstand, wardrobe, and a small
dining table.  The room was not orderly, rather, it looked as if the
occupant had just arrived home and was in the process of shedding
the uniform worn by all females in Gil-galad's service. Said uniform
was tossed across the small bed, and a pair of well-worn shoes sat
on the floor close by. The door to the wardrobe was slightly open
and a single teacup sat on the small table. 

Turning his head, Erestor examined the door to the room. It appeared
normal, untouched. As Erestor stepped into the room, Saelbeth went
to follow his superior, but was brought up short by Gildor's arm
preventing him from following.

Saelbeth watched as Erestor methodically began walking in a strange
pattern about the room. He started at the very edges, following the
perimeter, and gradually worked his way around the room in
progressively smaller circles until he finally reached the very
center of the room. Saelbeth looked to Gildor, confusion clear on
his face. "What is he doing?" he whispered.

Gildor glanced sideways at the young assistant, understanding
completely the lost expression in the smaller Elf's eyes. "If you
want to understand the artist, you have to look at the painting,"
was Gildor's cryptic reply. He could see that if anything, Saelbeth
appeared even more baffled, but Gildor also knew full well that the
one to explain it best – the master himself - was inside the room,
doing what he did best.

Erestor finally gestured for his assistants to join him. Young
Saelbeth pulled from his bag his sketch pad and charcoals. One of
his talents was drawing, and as he began sketching he remembered
Erestor’s instructions to him; draw the room to scale, leave out no
detail no matter how insignificant, and date and time the drawing.
Saelbeth worked in silence, hastily sketching the room and
furnishings, the clothing strewn about - the pages of the sketchbook
were rapidly filled as he moved about the room, changing the
perspective with each drawing. His eager young mind listened to the
conversation between Erestor and Gildor, soaking up the knowledge
that came from Erestor’s smooth, calm voice.  “What do you see,
Gildor?” Erestor asked, his tone soft and even - what Gildor
teasingly called his teacher’s tone.

“An ordinary room,” Gildor answered, looking about.

“Exactly,” was Erestor’s answer. “What does that say to you?”

Gildor frowned and forced himself to think hard about what his mind
was processing. “Well, to begin with, there is no sign of a
struggle.” Once he started, Gildor became excited at the fountain of
information he was able to see. “There is no sign of forced entry,
the door is intact and the lock unbroken. It looks as though the
victim was not expecting company.”

Erestor stopped him there. “What makes you think that, Gildor?”

Gildor gestured about. “There is only one tea cup. The victim’s
closet is slightly open, the day’s clothes still tossed upon the
bed,” he frowned in thought and looked to Erestor for confirmation.

Erestor only hummed and crossed the room, stopping in front of the
victim, where Gildor joined him. Saelbeth finally forced himself to
look at the reason they were in the room. He gulped, his face
turning an alarming shade of green. 

“If you intend to vomit, please do so outside in the hall, Saelbeth,
away from my crime scene.” Erestor’s voice was kindly but stern.  He
did not look at his young assistant, thus making it easier for
Saelbeth to force his bile away and shake himself mentally. He did
not want to embarrass himself in front of Erestor!

Silently the trio looked at the poor Elf whose life had ended so
violently. The victim was seated upright, her head resting against
the back of the chair. Gleaming silver hair was neatly and carefully
braided in a manner typically worn for formal occasions. Her hands
were ringless, folded demurely in her lap, and the dark blue silk
robe she wore accentuated her tall, slender form. The robe was
elaborately decorated with silver etchings and buttoned from neck to
toe. “Telerin, no doubt,” Erestor murmured, noting the victim’s
build and hair coloring.
What made the picture so very obscene was the peaceful posture of
the elleth’s body, which was at odds with the ghastly ruin of her
face.

The elleth’s eyes had been removed, and down her cheeks were thin
blood trails that disappeared into the neck of the robe.

Erestor sighed, allowing himself a brief moment to mourn a life
snuffed out that should have been immortal, and sent a brief prayer
to the Valar that her soul was now safely in Mandos’ keeping. But
the moment of grieving was fleeting. He had a job to do, and the
dead Elf would not receive justice by him being soft. He now had to
stand for the victim, and that required his full mental focus.
Emotion could not be allowed to come between victim and justice.

“Gloves,” he snapped, and Gildor immediately handed him a pair from
the black bag, in anticipation of Erestor’s request.

Erestor slipped on the special gloves, which had been made for him
with specific instructions for their design. The gloves were
fashioned completely from the thinnest, softest doe skin that could
be found, the seams flat stitched along the back of the fingers,
leaving the palm and inner surface line and crease free. While
Erestor had not as yet perfected a method of recovering and
recording fingerprints, he was working on it. These gloves enabled
him to touch items and bodies without leaving his own fingerprints
behind. 

Erestor studied the victim for several minutes, the room silent
except for the rapid scratching of Saelbeth’s charcoal against the
sketch pad.  Erestor’s eyes traveled from the elleth's face down to
her hands. “No defense wounds,” he murmured, and Gildor took notes
as Erestor examined the elleth's body.  Not much of the victim’s
body could be seen, the robe covered much. But Erestor again studied
the face of his victim. “Such precision in the removal of the eyes.
This is someone who knows how to handle a blade, exceptionally so.” 

Gildor’s questioning frown was caught by Erestor who invited his
assistant to lean a bit closer. “Look here, Gildor. The cuts leave
no frayed edges. No excess blood was spilt because the artery behind
the eye was neatly cut. This was done slowly and with an extremely
sharp instrument.” Gildor nodded his head in understanding, moving
back and giving Erestor room to circle about the victim.

“The robe, I believe, hides the rest of the tale. Wrap her, Gildor
and transport her to my lab. I want a guard posted until we can
perform the autopsy,” Erestor ordered.

Gildor, with Saelbeth’s help, unwrapped the special sheeting Erestor
used to wrap bodies in. It was of a silk material, plain white in
color. Erestor used this to avoid transference of fibers from the
victim to the sheet and vice versa. Many fibers he found could be
matched back to a specific garment or area of the palace. Erestor
had a lab full of well-labeled sample fibers from about Lindon,
which he used to compare against unknown fibers. 

Carefully, with Erestor’s eagle eye upon them, Gildor and Saelbeth
wrapped the body completely. Gildor next went to the door and called
for Captain Dórion to come in. Once the orders had been given to a
surprisingly cooperative Captain, the body was removed.

Gildor watched as the body of the elleth was carried away. Looking
sadly about the small room, he asked Erestor.  “Do you think there
will be more?” 

Saelbeth looked at Gildor and Erestor, puzzled. “More what?” he
asked.

“Killings,” Gildor replied. Saelbeth and Gildor looked at Erestor,
who was staring grimly at the closed door.

“Yes, something tells me this killer is just getting started…”



**********
Chapter: 2/11


Erestor and Gildor made the long trek from the servants' wing to the
High King's private rooms. Entering Gil-galad's study, they found
the King and his herald awaiting them. 

Gil-galad spoke before Erestor could. "I am sorry, Erestor. We
touched nothing in the room." 

Erestor waved away the High King's apology.  He knew that they had
touched nothing; he would have seen trace evidence in the room.
"Who found the body?" he asked instead.

Lord Elrond rose and poured them all glasses of strong spirits,
speaking over his shoulder. "It was Lord Glorfindel who found the
victim."

Erestor frowned. He knew the name... who did not? But he did not
know *this* Glorfindel. "Another Elf named Glorfindel?" he asked the
King's herald. Names were unique - it was highly irregular for a
parent to have named a child after the legendary Elda.

Elrond smiled at the Advisor. "Not 'another' Elf -- the very same
Elf who slew the Balrog. The Valar saw fit to return him to us to
face the coming darkness. He has been back upon these shores but
days, and then to stumble across this horror--" Elrond shook his
head sadly. 

Erestor looked skeptical. "I will wish to speak with him," he
declared.

Elrond looked concerned for a moment and opened his mouth as if to
speak, but he said nothing, only reluctantly nodded. Erestor caught
the hesitation and wondered about it. Why did Elrond not wish him to
question Glorfindel?

Erestor and Gildor spent the remaining hours of the night
questioning each person who had been present in the halls outside
the victim's room. Most witnesses professed to have seen nothing;
they said they were drawn to the scene by the commotion in the
hallway. 

By interviewing an elleth who identified herself as being a friend
to the dead female, Erestor was able to piece together a fairly
complete picture of the victim.  Brennil was a Telerin Elf who had
joined the court after escaping the ruin of Beleriand.  She had
journeyed to Lindon with her lover, who was a warrior. That
relationship did not last.  Brennil had no kin on Arda, but did have
parents and siblings in Valinor.  The friend, Menelui, did say that
Brennil was a hard worker, and that she enjoyed her life in Lindon.
She was social, outgoing and chatty, and a very friendly sort.

Erestor and Gildor questioned all the potential witnesses, with the
exception of Lord Glorfindel. The interview with the Balrog-slayer
was to take place in Elrond’s study. The Peredhel had insisted on
being present, but exactly why, Erestor did not know.  But the High
King’s herald was Erestor’s Lord as well, and he could not disobey a
direct order from the half-Elf without just cause. Erestor was not
concerned by Elrond's request - the advisor had confidence he would
be able to see through any dishonesty.

Arriving at Elrond's chambers, Erestor knocked and opened the door
after hearing Elrond’s voice call for him to enter. Once inside, his
eyes were immediately drawn to the blond warrior seated by the fire.
Glorfindel of the golden locks was aptly named, Erestor thought,
recognizing the ancient hero of Gondolin from the numerous paintings
throughout Lindon that depicted the reborn Noldo's deeds.  Erestor
thought in passing that the artwork did not do the golden Lord
justice, before focusing again on observing Glorfindel's mannerisms.
The Elf’s face and voice were open and friendly; Erestor could see
no deceit in those fair features.

Then again, some said Maeglin possessed the face of an innocent.

After introductions were made, Erestor took a seat across from the
Elda and crossed his legs comfortably, setting the golden Lord at
ease. “Lord Glorfindel, how did you come to discover the body of the
elleth?” Erestor’s voice was low and calm, only polite curiosity
bled through his tone. He looked the other Elf in the eyes, making
sure to keep his face bland and only mildly interested. 

Glorfindel looked briefly to Elrond, as though searching for
guidance, his face uncertain, and the Peredhel nodded encouragingly.
“The door was open,” Glorfindel said simply.

One dark brow arched. "The door was open, you say?" Erestor repeated
the Lord's words back to him, hoping to get the Balrog-slayer to
continue. Erestor kept his dark eyes wide and open, inviting
confessions and easy conversation. He had often found that if one
allowed the silence in an interrogation to build, the suspect felt
compelled to fill it. Often times, nervous babbling resulted, but
one never knew what could be inadvertently revealed in those random
comments.

Glorfindel fidgeted, glancing about the room, his eyes roaming,
landing everywhere but on the dark gaze of Erestor. “Yes, the door
was open. I saw the elleth sitting in a chair with her back to the
door. This seemed odd, so I called out to her, asking her if
everything was all right. She did not answer, so I went in. I
touched her shoulder, and then I saw her face.” Glorfindel’s voice
stopped and he looked anxiously at Erestor. “Then I ran and fetched
Lord Elrond. Her eyes..." the Balrog-slayer shuddered, his words
trailing away.

Erestor looked to Lord Elrond and received his confirmation
regarding those events. He turned back to Glorfindel. “One thing
still puzzles me, however, and that is what you were doing in the
servant’s wing? You are a Lord; your quarters are on the opposite
side of the palace.”

In fact, the blond seemed to become more agitated at the question,
and he frowned at Erestor. “I was walking the halls and saw her open
door. That is it, nothing more.”

Erestor could almost believe if Glorfindel told him he had been
lost. Being new to Lindon, perhaps the Elda simply took a wrong turn
down one of the many dark corridors of the palace. But Lord
Glorfindel did not claim that. His words rung false. There was more
to the story than the blond Elf was saying, and Erestor would find
the truth, one way or another.

Acting on impulse, Erestor asked smoothly, "Perhaps you were hoping
to find some female companionship to pass the hours while the storm
raged outside?"

Glorfindel stared at the advisor, aghast, and Elrond growled,
"Erestor..."

Ignoring Elrond's warning tone, Erestor continued, "Come now, Lord
Glorfindel. You have only been returned from Mandos for a short
while; surely you must have certain urges? Did you approach the
elleth, and when she turned you down, you lost your temper?"

"Certainly not!" the blond gasped, horrified. "I do not think of
females in that way."

"ERESTOR!" the Peredhel's voice rang out. "That is *enough*."

Erestor’s eyes met Lord Elrond’s. His gaze said clearly that it was
not enough, and it was not over. “Very well,” Erestor conceded.
“That will be all.  For now. But we may need to speak with you at a
later time, Lord Glorfindel.” Erestor rose and moved to the door,
but Glorfindel’s words stopped him.

“That is all I have to tell you, Lord Erestor. I neither saw nor
heard anything else of value.”  Glorfindel insisted stubbornly. That
the blond now understood that this had not been a friendly
conversation was obvious.

Erestor only gave the Elda a small, tight smile and an, “Until
later,” before leaving the room, a silent Gildor following his Lord.
As they walked, Erestor considered the exchange with Glorfindel. It
was interesting, he thought, that rather than indignance over being
considered a murder suspect, what the golden Lord so vehemently
protested was his sexual preference.

Very interesting, indeed.


Saelbeth was waiting for Erestor and Gildor at the laboratory
Erestor had designed and stocked with tools of his trade. Erestor
quietly thanked his young assistant as he handed him a steamy cup of
strong tea. “Thank you, Saelbeth. Did you make an inventory of the
items in our victim’s room?” he asked. 

“Yes, Lord Erestor. I have a complete list,” Saelbeth answered
eagerly.

“Good,” Erestor replied. “I want you to take that list and go over
it carefully with Menelui, the friend of our victim. Make sure she
can account for everything on that list,” he ordered.

Saelbeth nodded, setting his teacup down, and gathering his things
departed to begin his interview. Gildor watched the young assistant
rush to comply with his superior's orders. He waited until the door
closed before turning to Erestor. “Do you think robbery was
involved?” he asked, clearly puzzled.

“No,” was all Erestor offered. Understanding of Erestor’s motives
came to him, though, as he glanced at the victim laid out on the
exam table.  Erestor did not want Saelbeth to be present for the
autopsy; the young assistant had not yet been exposed to that part
of the job. Dealing with violent death in the abstract was one
thing, getting up close and personal in an autopsy was another. Yes,
young Saelbeth did not need to be a part of this just yet.

This special room had been carefully stocked by Erestor over the
years. He had designed each tool, and he was continually thinking of
ways of refining his techniques or modifying a way of recording
evidence. It was a stark room, white with plain cabinets and
examining tables. Extra oil lamps for lighting had been brought to
illuminate the room brightly for night work, and during daylight
hours, the extra numerous and wide windows provided the sunlight to
its fullest extent. 

Erestor and Gildor shed their outer robes and donned the special
white robes Erestor used in the lab. The large numerous candelabras
were lit, brightening the room considerably. Moving with
synchronized ease coming from years of working together, each pulled
on gloves and stepped to the table where the victim's body lay.

First the sheet was unwrapped and the body was gently lifted off
onto another table, this one covered in plain parchment paper. The
victim's clothing was carefully cut off, following along its seams.
Gildor placed the robe on another parchment-covered table. He shook
the robe gently over the paper several times in order to collect any
loose fibers or hairs, then folded the garment carefully and wrapped
it in more parchment. Paper, Erestor found, was better to store
evidence in, as it did not allow moisture to gather on the objects. 

Next, Gildor moved an oil lamp very close and examined the
parchment, collecting the fibers that had fallen from the robe, each
placed on its on square of paper for examining later by Erestor.
Fibers were unique to the material they came from; no two pieces of
fabric had precisely the same count of thread, color, or identical
pattern. Erestor had once solved a jewel theft case by matching
fibers from a thief’s tunic to the crime scene.

Erestor had also brought an oil lamp closer to the body. There, in
stark detail, lay the killer's handiwork. Blooming against the
paleness of death on the elleth's throat were purple and black
bruises, their shape unmistakably finger marks. 

Erestor dragged his eyes away from the victim's neck, and scanning
down her body, he looked for other signs of trauma. Besides the eyes
and neck, the body looked unmarked, but a closer inspection would be
required in order to rule out other injuries and look for evidence.
Erestor waited for Gildor to join him back at the table, with
parchment and quill in hand to record Erestor’s findings.

Erestor started the autopsy…



**********
Chapter: 3/11


They have found her. The traitor is now in their hands. Will they
know? Will they understand? The eyes will reveal nothing... it is
not time yet.

__________________________________________________________

"The victim is an Elven female who appears to be of Telerin descent,
healthy, though perhaps a bit under weight. The signs of trauma
appear to be confined to the upper portions of the victim’s body."
Erestor moved about the examining table, his eyes scanning the
elleth’s form for other signs of injury as he pulled on a pair of
examining gloves. "There appears to be no form of sexual assault,
but closer examination is needed to rule that out." 

Erestor paused and went to a cabinet to remove several metal
instruments. He placed the tools on a small table next to the one
where the elleth's body lay.

Gildor laid aside his scribing duties to help Erestor in the
difficult task of examining the elleth's lower body for sign of
penetration. He and Erestor both sighed, relieved that no signs of
sexual trauma were found, nor was there any evidence of recent
intercourse. No matter how many cases one dealt with involving rape
or sexual abuse, one could never become used to them. That type of
trauma, the most heinous crime that could be committed by the
Firstborn save murder, never became easier to deal with. 

Gildor once more became Erestor's scribe as the older Elf moved
away, placing his instruments back upon the small table. "No signs
of sexual assault, confirmed by external examination." Erestor's
voice was clinical as he moved up the body to the neck area, but
became softer as he examined the victim's throat. 

"Initial signs are consistent with manual strangulation. In this
type of strangulation, the killer would have had to apply a
tremendous amount of force, to cause this quantity of bruising
around the neck." Erestor opened a drawer and withdrew a piece of
wood with each inch marked off in white lines. 

Gildor moved closer to the table, waving a hand at the measuring
device. "Are you ready to measure the marks?" he asked.

"No, not yet. Let us first confirm that the cause of death was in
fact strangulation," Erestor replied. "Tell me, Gildor, what else
would indicate that cause of death?" Erestor asked, his voice
inquiring.

"Well," Gildor gestured at the ruined eyes, the eyelids sagging into
the empty sockets. "If the eyes were not mutilated, hemorrhaging of
the eyeballs and the eye socket would be full of excess fluid."
Gildor looked to Erestor tentatively and let out a relieved sigh at
Erestor's nod.

Erestor moved back to his examination, but the lesson to Gildor
continued.  "The other signs to look for in cases such as this are
the tongue being trapped between the teeth, causing bite marks and
bruising of the tissue, and yes, the hemorrhages around the eyes."
Erestor closed the victim's mouth and moved his gloved hands back to
the neck area of the body.

"Record, Gildor," Erestor reminded his assistant, who had moved away
from the scroll and quill to better observe Erestor at work.
"Examination revealed bite marks in the tissue of the tongue. In
addition, bruising appears on the floor of the mouth and the
victim's Hyoid bone is broken," Erestor noted, pointing to the
underside of the elleth’s jawbone, gesturing Gildor closer so he
could record and observe Erestor's next step.

"The neck area shows clear fingerprint marks. The thumb and
fingertips are circular in shape." Erestor drew his wooden ruler and
carefully held it next to the thumb outline in the victim’s skin.
"The markings are half an inch in diameter." He said, and Gildor
dutifully marked all this information down.

"There is also tearing of the skin consistent with the killer’s
fingernails digging into the victim’s skin." Erestor stepped back
and wiped an arm across his damp brow. He appeared to look
internally, his eyes looking at the body but appearing vague and
unfocused. "It is, of course, impossible to tell, but my inductive
thought is that the eyes were removed postmortem. The victim was
strangled and then the eyes cut out. Yes, that is it..." 

"Inductive?" Gildor has to ask, never having heard Erestor use that
phrase before.

"Inductive - that is, observing particular elements of a crime and
drawing larger conclusions from them," Erestor replied distractedly,
his gaze drawn to the streets below, which teemed with life and
vibrancy. To the citizens of Lindon, mundane matters – trade and
weaponry, smithing, living and loving – went on.

Erestor shook his head and pulled of his gloves, tossing them on the
small equipment table. “Take a short break, Gildor,” he ordered
before moving back to the window and staring out into the day. The
storm had passed during the night, and the sunlight was bright.

Sensing Erestor’s need for a few moments of solitary reflection,
Gildor washed his hands at the tiny sink, then filled a heavy
teakettle and set it to heat on the small stove in the lab. When the
water was hot, he quietly went about making them both a strong cup
of tea. The day was passing and they had not rested. Gildor knew he
could use some strong spirits, but Erestor had strict rules
regarding drinking during working hours. 

Once the tea was brewed, he moved to Erestor’s side and wordlessly
handed the older Elf a cup. Gildor returned Erestor's smile of
thanks with a slight one of his own. They enjoyed their beverage in
comfortable silence. Finally, Erestor set his cup aside and looked
to his assistant.

"Let us return to it, Gildor," he said, before moving back to the
body of their victim and pulling his gloves back on.

Gildor assisted Erestor in rolling the body over. Around the
buttocks was a sign Erestor had been looking for. "Livor mortis,"
Erestor said, indicating the area with a nod of his head. "The
bruising of death. When the heart stops," he explained to Gildor.
"The blood stops circulating, gravity causing it to pool to the
parts of the body in contact with the ground. Or, in this case, the
chair. The flesh turns a bruised color from about two hours after
death, provided the body is not moved. Notice here, Gildor," Erestor
pointed out the elleth's buttocks, "this coloration is fixed because
the red blood cells have broken down and separated into the
surrounding muscle tissue."

Erestor looked up, meeting Gildor's eyes, his gaze deadly serious.
"Also, notice this intense coloration. In some cases the color can
be particularly vivid, due to the presence of poisons."  Erestor
nodded, and he and Gildor lowered the body gently back on the table.
"Let us have a look at that tea cup, Gildor."

Gildor carefully handed the cup to Erestor and wrinkled his nose.
"It smells of liquor," he said.

Erestor looked into the bottom of the cup. He brought to his nose,
sniffing deeply. "Look here, though," he tilted the cup for Gildor
to see the bottom.  "The bottom of the cup has a purplish residue in
it.  I cannot think of purple colored liquor, can you?" he asked
Gildor.

Gildor shook his head in the negative and looked up as the door to
the lab opened, revealing a tired-looking Saelbeth.  Erestor put the
cup back onto its parchment paper as he greeted his other assistant.
"I am glad you are back, Saelbeth.  We were just about to discuss
what we have found so far."

Saelbeth eagerly came forward, all signs of fatigue forgotten at the
prospect of learning from the master.  Erestor leaned back against
one of the tables and folded his arms across his chest.  "There was
no sign of forced entry.  The door was intact, the lock unbroken.
What does this say to you, young Saelbeth?" Erestor asked.

"She knew the killer?" Saelbeth replied, his tone uncertain.

"Are you asking me or telling me?" Erestor demanded, his dark eyes
boring into the younger Elf's, requiring confirmation from the
inexperienced Saelbeth.

"Telling you," Saelbeth stated.  "She knew her killer," he repeated,
his voice much more confident.

Erestor nodded in satisfaction at Saelbeth’s answer. "I believe so
also," he replied, beginning to pace the length of the room as he
continued speaking.  "The door to the room, from all reports, was
left open.  The killer wanted his victim found.  The rooms in the
servant’s wing are close together, the walls thin, yet no cries for
help were heard. Nor were there signs of a struggle.  This leads me
to the conclusion that our victim was drugged.”

The speed of Erestor’s pacing increased as the thoughts formed in
his mind and spilled from his mouth.  “The teacup has an unusual
substance in the bottom of it, and from the smell, it seems to have
contained some sort of liquor.  This could also explain why no cries
for help were heard.  This idea bears further investigation, as we
know from our examination of the body that no defense wounds are
present.  This all makes sense."  Erestor stopped suddenly and
rubbed a hand tiredly across his face.  "If our victim was drugged,
she could not call out or fight back.  But what drug was used, we
have no way of knowing." 

Erestor paused and noticed his assistant's fatigue. "Gildor, please
take Saelbeth and find something to eat, then I want both of you to
rest. We will meet back here before the morning bell, understood?"
Erestor asked.

Gildor wearily arched his back, eyeing Erestor closely. "Are you off
to rest as well, my Lord?"

Erestor smirked at Gildor, not missing the speculative gleam in his
assistant's eyes. "Yes, after I report to the King. Now both of you,
out of here." He shooed them to the door, ignoring Gildor's attempts
to catch his eyes once again. 

Erestor closed the door and walked tiredly to a small closet in the
lab. After splashing water onto his face from the bowl there, he
hung up the soiled white laboratory robe and pulled a clean robe off
a hook. Erestor brushed his hair out, pinning it behind each ear
before setting the brush down and closing the closet door. He was
now prepared to face Gil-galad.

TBC…