Over those seven days, Allen saw countless terrifying, brutal instruments of torture in the darkness: sharp spikes and crude iron frames, their mottled bloodstains still clinging to them after thousands of years beneath the sea.
Even in his dreams, the sight of those instruments would jolt Allen awake.
The slaves who had suffered such cruelty had used whatever tools they could find to leave curse after curse in Quenya and Sindarin on the prison's solid walls, condemning the horrors inflicted upon them.
"I curse you! I curse you, Morgoth!! You will forever live in endless desire, unable to find satisfaction, until this world is destroyed!!"
"Elentári, when will you appear in your splendor, drive away the boundless darkness and suffering here, and sweep every filthy enemy into the Void!!"
Reading those words, Allen felt the profound despair and anguished cries behind them. They drove him to explore faster. He feared that staying in a place like this too long might well drive him mad.
To avoid entering those horrific rooms again, Allen used his tools to leave various marks on the walls. Whenever he encountered stairs, he only took the ones leading down, for his destination lay in the deepest halls of Angband.
That place had once been lit by fire and filled with weapons that brought death and torment. Atop a towering flight of steps stood Morgoth's throne.
And the treasured sword Ringil lay beneath the stone slab at the throne, where Morgoth trod upon it day and night.
Angband's stairways were as complex as a maze, densely woven throughout the fortress. Every doorway looked much the same, and there were none of the guiding patterns the Dwarves used.
Each time, Allen chose the largest archway he could see and tried his luck. Morgoth's dark body had towered like