rocky41_7

There were times still that Finrod struggled to anchor himself in the moment. Moments when it felt he was watching or hearing things happening to someone else, not to himself. In the worst of these moments, he could hear instead the echo of Sauron’s voice in the back of his mind like nails scraping through his flesh, feel the coarse weight of chains against his wrists, feel the wetness of his men’s blood against his hands; in these moments, he flailed mentally to grip something present to reassure himself that he was not still a prisoner of Tol-in-Gaurhoth, simply being tormented with a vision of peace he would never know again. In the less extreme, he felt only adrift, curiously watching a scene play out in front of him without actually being a part of it.