Hi there! This is chapter 2. I will write some more fics detailing more on what Eönwe saw that day. Feel free to leave a review! I feed off of them.
The Maia walked down to the floor under them. He paled at the sight in front of him. Instead of torches, carcasses were held to the walls by metal clasps that dug into their rotting flesh. The entire floors walls were littered with bodies. Some still fresh, dried blood under them still red, others starting to decompose, with the metal clasps sunken into their blackened flesh. They were all marred. Some few with mere cuts and gashes, others entirely distorted to the point where he would not be able to distinguish the parts of the body, were it not held in some semblance of form by bones.
The walls have turned a rotting shade of black around and under the bodies. The floor in their proximity was layered with built up muck, grime, blood and probably some rotting, dried pieces of what once was the hora of a Child of Iluvatar. Eönwe felt his heart clench at that thought.
He walked down the long corridor until he came to an open space hewed into the wall of the fortress. It was like a small room, but with only three walls and one side entirely open towards the corridor. At first he thought it was a storage room of some sort: open for all to quickly take what was needed. But when he came closer and the curve of the passageway no longer hid what was inside, he saw for the first time the horrors the prisoners have been subjected to.
Inside, the small room was packed with square cages from the bottom to the top. The cages were small enough that a grown person would need to draw up their knees and hunch their backs to fit. Inside them, there were heinous, naked things. Things, yes. For the Maia could not describe them as people, for people they were no more. The soft light he let his fána emit in this dark place shone gently onto the cages, and as on cue, the beings in them pressed themselves into the farthest corners of their restraints.
Their backs were hunched so far that it's top was permanently above their heads, the bones in their backs sticking out. Their frames were disfigured and thin from starvation. Their heads were bald or held only a few strands of hair of what used to be luscious locks. Their form reminded Eönwe of both a fragile bird and a mad, starved wolf.
The Maia felt his heart clench and anger burned inside him towards Morgoth with more intensity than before. How could someone do this? And why? Especially someone who has come to Eä to aid the Children! He let his fëa survey the damage of the fëar of the former elves and men in front of him. To his horror, he felt none. Their fëar were gone. Melkor has made them into empty shells of base emotions of hate and fear. Utterly crushed by the realization, he had to fight to hold back a tear of anger and pity. He knew that these beings were now even past the skills of the Feanturi to heal. He could do nothing. So with pity in his heart he left the site and continued his quest to find some whom he could save.
Wedged between a rotting body and a skeleton held together by dried pieces of tendon, with little pieces of broken ribs that have come loose littering the ground under it, there was a wooden door. He opened it and knew whatever was inside was not going to be pretty, but he could never have imagined what he would see.
The room was empty, save from a chain hanging from its middle. The only other items in the room were various wips on the ground and on a small planck. The ground and walls was covered in festering, red and rotting layers of dried blood. In some places the grimey layers became too heavy to stick to the stone walls and peeled off, revealing just how thick it truly was. How many people's hora's fluids were in this room? Hundersd? More than that? How could anyone do this? Eönwe could no longer bear the sight and turned away.
The Maia saw many worse things before he finally reached the levels of the cells where the prisoners were kept. Things that he wished he'd never seen and that would keep him awake at night for many years to come.
When he reached the prison levels, his heart had already lost hope of finding anyone that could be saved. Opening the first door, he saw an Edain boy, no older than nineteen perhaps. He was laying on his back on the filthy floor. His hair had thinned and his nose was bowed to the left, it had been broken and not set. His naked form was covered in layers of scars and burns, with fresh ones on top of already fading ones. He shuddered in fear as he heard the door open, and only stopped being terrified when Eönwe assured him he will not hurt him.
The herald continued to check the cells, but he soon realized there were simply too many of them. And since he was quite sure there were no dark, lurking dangers in the levels of the cells, he summoned a group of Edain and Eldar so they could help free the thousands upon thousands of imprisoned people.
He did this with great heartache, as he knew did not want the Children to witness these cruel destructions of hora and fëa, but he saw in that not even the group op maiar could get to all the slaves in time before they starved.
Many prisoners have been saved that day. Many were lost beyond hope. And many minds have been scarred forever by the sheer sight of what Morgoth was capable of inflicting. Eönwe prayed to Eru to heal these tortured minds, both of those who only saw the torment and those who actually lived through it.
This day of victory has been a day of loss and terror as well. But at least the war was over.