Surrounding the Fall by Ivare

Edge

I can’t undo what I’ve done.
I can’t prevent what will come.

Confession? Out of the question:
There’s no reason to bring about my death
earlier than it needs be.

I can imagine how the execution would go:
Forced down, down
on the cold, hard stones
and all of Gondolin watching.

Idril’s eyes, full of betrayal and hate.
And what then?

The green grass where Eöl
is surely bones, or dust now
stares up at me
so far away.

I don’t know when Morgoth will attack,
only that he will.

And I’ll have served my purpose
when he does. I won’t survive this
will I?

It was all a desperate shot in the dark.
One word
one mistake.
And it has cost me
cost us
everything.

I reckoned I’d at least be satisfied.
Perhaps there’d be guilt, although
with my eyes set on her,
it would be easy to disregard.

But all there is
is dread
like a noose
or the ground crumbling away
and falling
falling.

There are promises
the Dark Enemy makes good on;
others he breaks.
But if Idril is spared —

No. I mustn’t hope.
It won’t be long now,
before all is lost.

Yet I seek solace
a damned kind of peace
in thinking that at least 
she would be no one’s
if not mine.