My rage was like a burning fire, it was as if my soul had been set alight. I wanted to scream my hatred to the entire world. I wanted to cry but such a weakness would shame me. I couldn't show my feelings. I was the King now. I had to be strong. I had to avenge my father. Oh, how I hated Moringotto at that moment. He would pay for the murder of my father and the theft of the Silmarils. I wanted to see him dead, that murderer, that monster. I wanted to strike something, to unleash my rage. My pain was too high to be controlled.
English is not my native language, do not hesitate to correct my mistakes if you see any.