I was in an angsty mood and just came up with these drabbles. Don't read unless you're ready with a box of tissues or an iron constitution. Sad feels, even though they're short. All are under 150 words.
Burns. Amrod never liked fire after that. Or heat of any sort, for that matter. It would make him shiver, and feel as cold as he imagined the Helcaraxë was.
Even when his Father finally came to the Halls of Mandos, as Amrod knew he would, he stayed away from him, for the simple reason that his father burned.
The flame imperishable was hot. Scorching.
And he didn't like it.
He remembered his death very well. The pain of slowly catching aflame, blisters forming, skin blackening, eyes blanking and in general just... Pain.
The screams of the dying and the afraid ringing in his ears, and his own shrieks of pain as he was consumed. It haunted him.
He never liked fire, after that. It burned.