The worst part of my imprisonment was not, contrary to what anyone might think, the actual imprisonment itself. The first few hours were the worst torment, as I hung there, suspended over the chasm. Within a few days when I could no longer wiggle my fingers, I knew my hand was dead. The pain stopped, though at times my arm throbbed to my wrist, my right hand no longer bothered me.
Instead, it was the hunger, the gnawing pain in my stomach. My muscles diminished, my skin tightened over bones that threatened to split through my flesh. I was delirious for days at a time, with rainwater being the only reprieve from my torture. It was a temporary solution, for the unbearable hunger always returned.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Maedhros