Fire… pain… falling…pain…darkness…pain…
He couldn't see anything, he couldn't move, he couldn't. He could feel the pain but he couldn't help letting it slip;
Am I dead?
It was a simple question, one that every one asks when they die.
She looked down at the broken edhel. It still made her sad to see such life come to a bitter end.
'No,' she answered him. She looked away from him to gaze at the fell creature that clung to him. It was still alive after the fall and it wouldn't let go of the edhel, wanting to cause even more pain by keeping him alive.
A flame flickered in its ashen chest. It was taking a painful breath to keep itself alive and its victim.
"Why do you still draw breath, fell beast?" Her voice was black and venomous. The edhel weakly flinched, but the creature turned its black, flamed licked eyes toward the Maia, and smiled a frightening smile of pure black hate. It spoke, its foul voice too painful for any man or elf, so painful that even the broken dying edhel screamed in agony;
"I live so that I may know that it was me who broke his sprit more than just his body. I want him to fear fire and ash and shadow."
"I care little for what you want fell beast"
Disgust rippled through her. Disgust and something else…hate. Absolute, pure hate. Before her was this creature that along with others, destroyed cites of elves and men and caused many a grief for all involved. And she hated it, this creature that struggled for life. She hated it along with all of the twist creatures of Morgoth's making. She wanted it to feel her wrath. The wrath of Death.
"Your end has come."
She stood before the creature, anger radiating from her very core and every shadow from every crevice that darkness dwelt was ripped from their hiding places and the sky above her darkened with storm clouds. Thunder began resonating and lightning lit the terrible and dark expression on Núruainu's face.
Darkness billowed around her, the only parts that were visible were her grayish hands and pitch eyes. A stench of rotten flesh pervaded the air from the figure wrapped in death.
She raised her hand, palm outstretched, and from the darkness a sword of black flickering flame was formed and it was as dark as her eyes. She stared at the creature and quicker than a flash of light she trusted the fiery blade into the creature's chest and it screamed so loud that it shook the ground.
It was engulfed, the creature, in black flames that sucked the very essence of its life away. When she pulled the sword away it vanished, but the creature, the Balrog was nothing but a dead black carcass frozen in agony for all eternity. It died a death worthy for the spawn of Morgoth's.
She turned away from the sight and beheld the broken, dying elf. The darkness around her faded and a gentle light emanated from her as she knelt beside him and lifted his head to gaze into his eyes. They full of pain and blindness. She placed her now white hand over his eyes and bid him to see her, and he did. His body trembled from fear, pain, and exhaustion, but he still held on to life when there was nothing to hang on to.
She favored him with a sweet, gentle but sad smile.
"Peace. You must let go now Glorfindel of Gondolin. Your time has come to dwell among Namo in the Halls of Mandos. You will have peace there, I promise."
Glorfindel closed his eyes, peace over coming all the pain he had and then he just let go. And in the Halls of Mandos he dwelt for a time, until it was time again to walk among the living, but for all that time he dwelt there, he never forgot his salvation; Núruainu, the Angel of Death.