From the pov of Maedhros as he reflects on his torment as he hung from Thangorodrim.
I doubt that you have ever been high enough to view the world unveiled in its terrible glory.
I have seen it, though I wish not to recall that memory.
My lips were blistered and bleeding from the horrid cold.
My hands were unfeeling, and in my chest Death's icy grip had taken its hold.
The cry of Eagles tore me from the paths of my mind which I wandered in despair.
The jail crows of Namo. Carrion fowl, awakened from their lair.
The soft voice I heard oft in my dreams came again unto me.
It spoke of a land which I never again shall see.
The cold for a time receded and I felt hope amid my torment.
A hand took my own, but I could not speak, for I was spent.
Then my world went black.
Sweet words there were to draw me back.
Then even as I opened my eyes and found there to be day,
A voice whispered in my ear: You are safe. Stay.
One I had yearned to hear for so long.
Like the Sirion, deep and strong.
I bathed in its warmth.
I was home.
