'Betrayer.' The word still echoes in my ears. 'How could you Mairon?' If I close my eyes, I can see my brother's disappointed and angry face. Surely he hates me. Why would he not? Why should he not? He is right to hate me. I deserve his hatred. I deserve to be punished. But I can't go back. I'm too frightened to go back. That's why I ran. That's always been the reason. I'm too much of a coward to face pain. No more pain. And yet, even though I ran from it, pain followed me. It always does. Haunting my footsteps like a loyal dog. Already, my legs ache and I yearn to go back, to give in. Accept my fate. But I am frightened of what I'll find. Too frightened. Too frightened to ever ever consider going back. Morgoth was right. He was always right.
I'm having far too much fun with the whole 'Gandalf and Sauron are brothers' thing. :)