This was *supposed* to be a drabble...
He screamed in agony as his soul was captured, twisted, violently forced to submit to the one who wore his Ring now. It let up briefly, and he found himself on hands and knees, panting harshly. It reminded him of the form he once had taken often, that of the wolf. He had roamed the northern wilderness then, with the illusion of freedom. He'd been nothing but a slave in truth, but a feared and respected slave, the deadly lieutenant of Morgoth.
Now though, he could not escape the realization of his folly. He'd escaped that life, only to re-enslave himself half an Age later. And now he was paying for that rare bit of stupidity. How had he failed to see the weakness, the danger? He'd never even considered the fact the Ring could be taken from him, or that another would use the part of his power and soul bound in it to subjugate the rest to the Wielder's every whim.
He raised anguished golden eyes to the band of gold that held him enthralled, and raised a trembling hand towards it, in longing or beseeching he didn't know.
And screamed again, in hopeless desperation, as the violation of his mind and soul continued without mercy.