Night Vision by Fuin  

Night Vision

For the twenty-third time, I behold the Night outgrowing Day. The hours of meagre sunlight spearing through the vapours of the Thangorodrim dwindle. Defying dawn, the shadows linger ever longer—from now-barren Dor-lómin and burning Nargothrond in the west to the hidden valleys beyond the mountains in the east. 

Morgoth's gaze is sharper and his ears are more keen in darkness, when his servants are boldest, when food and warmth grow scarce and he feeds them with his thoughts and covers them in his malice. 

At night, I see better through their eyes than I ever did with my own, and I hear many dreadful words whispered in dark and secret places that go unnoticed by Men. 

The more the blessedly blurry time of daylight withers away with the autumn leaves, the more clearly I will behold my son's Doom through the cursed dark of winter. 

I was there when his valour brought naught but ruin to Nargothrond. 

To Dor-lómin he turned, seeking Morwen and Niënor. He will not find them—I was there when they fled. Hidden beyond Melian's Girdle they are, far from my sight; for a while at least, before they leave as Túrin left. Long ago I learned not to believe in lasting safety, and yet, long ago I also succumbed to a lonesome longing for another sight of them, even though all I see fills me with grief.

I will be there to see them step back into the night.

The first snow falls early upon the slopes of my prison. It is on Morgoth's mind to send the gathering storm clouds south soon to smother the lands in ice and bitter frost. 

I will be there for each of Túrin's steps upon the frozen ground. 

I shall hope my children's doomed paths never cross.