Downfall: A Triptych by Himring

Chapter 2: Uinen

I did not feel such strain, such anguish as this even at the beginning of days, when Melkor battled the Powers over all of the waters of Arda, dividing Osse from me. I am being stretched and ripped apart, my hair torn out and whipped away in the maelstrom, my limbs pulled every which way, impossibly extended. Above me, Osse roars, too drunk on violence to feel the pain—yet.

Ulmo, defend!

But he has stepped aside and yielded his will to one greater than he.

Through me, through the midst of my body, they tumble, dropping, sinking, all, all, those who named my name, those who called on me for help, right among those who knew nothing of me, who despised me—burned, broken and crushed, gasping and struggling in their fear and agony—they cannot breathe, cannot live—their torment only stilled in death.

Abhorred-Admirable, dare you quibble with the One, even now, as if yours was a mere difference in philosophy, as if you had played no part in all this pain and dying, denying responsibility? How dare you invoke order? How was your intent in this any other than to destroy, even if you did not foresee this consequence? I would waylay you, if I could, so that not even your dark spirit should escape what you yourself brought about.

I will wrap the bones of the dead in my hair, bury them in sand. They have no other home left but me, now.