[CaptainofDespair]

In short time, he reached the stairs of Celebrimbor’s palace, and slowly and methodically ascended them, as a king ascends to his coronation. He found a motley assortment of guards remaining, men who imagined they would serve their lord faithfully, and to the last. But, Angoroth would have none of this. “Scatter faithful soldiers of Eregion! Your doom will be the same as your lord if you do not stand aside!” Few challenged this. Some defended the doors to the inner sanctum of Celebrimbor’s palace staunchly. They died where they stood. The rest fled in haste. With the guards dispensed, either with word or sword, he pursued his final goal.

Casting aside the heavy doors of the chamber, he thrust himself into the Lord of the City’s sanctum, where he had cloistered himself to the end. The Lord looked up from his seated position, and already knowing what had come for him. “Ah, so here lies the last of the great Feanor’s seed! I would have thought one of such proud heritage would stand up to his enemy. Indeed, the sons are weaker than the father!” Inaudible murmuring emanated from Celebrimbor’s lips, but he did not speak to his accuser. “And so it comes to this, Celebrimbor. The Oath is fulfilled, and my duty to my master, Melkor, is complete.” Angoroth, having fully thought out his actions for this moment, made use of his plans. He sliced open the stomach of the elf-lord, while he yet lived, and he laughed as he took in the stench and sight of disemboweled innards and gore, as well as the agonized screams of Celebrimbor, as he gave in to his temptation to fulfill his murderer’s desires. Those screams echoed throughout the city…

~*~

Angoroth, he who had destroyed the people of Eregion, was never seen again in the West. He fled the city, in short time after his slaying of Celebrimbor, and deserted his bond to Mordor. Whispers of his wicked deeds followed him ever northwards, where traveled by both steed and foot, at last reaching the wastes of the North.

Haggard and worn by the icy winds that whipped around him, his armor discarded long ago, traded for hides in those sparse villages he entered during those last beleaguered steps of his quest; he marched to a location deep in the desolation, nearest the long departed citadel of Utumno. Without even a single slab of timber, not even a measly scrap of bark stripped from a waterlogged, dead tree, he burned the hides which kept his shivering body even remotely close to warm. The fire, which burned dimly in the cold, starry, night sky, burnt off little heat, and the lonesome Maiar knew this. The time had come, he thought.

And so, he drew forth his sword, still tainted with the frozen blood of Celebrimbor. Sliding the blade through decayed flame, as it flickered pathetically amongst the hide-embers, grasping painfully for the cold steel. The Maiar watched gleefully, as he muttered prayers to his master, the fallen Valar Melkor.

I commit my body to the ice,
And my soul to the dark light.
I go now,
To join with my Master beyond the Night.

Slowly withdrawing the blade from the dying fire, Angoroth methodically twisted the ancient sword in his palms, pointing the blade to his stomach. It crept forward, like a spider ready to pounce, drawing ever closer to him. As the tip of the metal penetrated into his body, the skin gave way, engulfing the blade as it sliced into him. His face remained emotionless, as he merged with the steel. He lurched forward onto it, hoping for an end to himself. Blood rose up within him now, and gurgled in his mouth, spilling over his cracked lips, staining the ice and snow with his crimson taint as it splashed across the frozen earth. With his vision growing bleak, and his blood draining from his withering body, he collapsed over himself. Still kneeling, cast forward, hanging limp from his waist, he gave into death. With his final prayers, he committed his soul beyond the world, leaving it forevermore, as the pale light of his eyes faded, flickered, and finally vanished with the dead flames of the hide-fire…