Author's note:

Stories I've written so far have a happy ending; generally, I like stories with happy ends. But now I wanted to try to write something completely different. Thinking about next story, I remembered Hurin and one of the sadest stories in the whole history of Middle-Earth, one of the worst deeds of Morgoth Bauglir. This is a small try to imagine how Hurin felt – if it is possible at all to imagine the agony he passed through day by day.

Special thanx to Fili, for her help in translation and beta. * big hug* for my dear friend she-dwarf!

-x-x-x-

I wish I had died long ago, in battle. If I had, I wouldn't have doomed on this pain the ones I love most. If I had, Morgoth wouldn't have destroyed you, my dearest...

I was proud and defiant, I wanted to show him that men were honest and honourable, that he couldn't break us and turn us into the tool of evil. Proudly I raised my head and laughed at his threats, for I didn't care what would happen with me. I only wanted to show him men were stronger than he thought.

How naive I was... Torture and death are mere trifles, amusement for the orcs. But Morgoth is much more cruel than that, he had many other ways to hurt me, far beyond simple physical wound, and he chose the worst.

What did I achieve with my defiance? For it, you paid the price... There wasn't a single moment that I didn't want to break my chains and rush to help you, and to undo the curse he laid upon you. No wound, no strike, nothing ever hurt me the way your pain did. Because, by magic, he made sure that I see everything, and I saw every suffering you went through. I saw everything. And I couldn't do anything. I only could strain my chains to madness, and scream out in anger, inability, pain.

I wish I had died long ago, in battle. It would mean I'd never see you again, my beloved Morwen, but also that you would be free of his malice and evil. I wished you could live the rest of your life in peace, free of sorrow. Instead, I ruined your life.

I saw our son, Morwen. Proud, good, strong, noble he was... he could've been the king of our people. But, he got one blow after another, each more painful than the previous. And I felt each, just like he did. I cried with him when he killed his best friend, and when he thought he brought misery to those he loved because of his evil doom.

No, not because of evil doom. Because of me and my arrogance, because of my proud thought that I could defy Morgoth.

I saw our daughter, too. She was beautiful, proud, brave; a true daughter of the Edain. Morwen, I wish you could've watched her grow and live carefree, far from evil, finding true love and happiness. Instead, she was doomed. The fate of Turin and Nienor tore my already destroyed soul to pieces. And yes, it was I who was guilty for their fate. I had no more tears I could cry. And I had to watch them, every day, to the very end. Morgoth made sure I missed nothing.

I wish I had died long ago, in battle. I envy my brother Huor, who found death in Nirnaeth Arnoediad. Some are afraid of death, but truly it is a blessing compared to this life. Dying is easy.

What would I do if I could start all over? If again I was brought as prisoner and cast at Morgoth's feet? Was there another choice?

I wanted to show Morgoth that a man, that someone belonging to the race he had scorned, could be strong and noble; that he couldn't break us. Would I do anything different, knowing what I know now? Now that your life was destroyed long ago and our children are dead after enduring great pain because of me? No, I still can't say if I would do different. The enemy was cruel beyond our power to understand; he would destroy us, as well as any other man, woman or child, no matter what we said or did. I know that now too; I had long years to see his cruelty.

Everything would be the same no matter what I said to him. I was right to rise my head proudly. The truth is, there was no other choice. He would cruelly destroy us, little by little, anyway. But this truth is no comfort, and it even makes me more miserable. I let myself be caught. I failed you. Our children are dead and shall never return, their laughter shall never be heard again. Because of me.

I wish I had died long ago, in battle.