It swept her in her futile run, as easily as if she had been nothing but a dry leaf or a crushed weed upon a riverbank. In quiet horror, she felt the might of the pull, and she saw herself grow higher and higher, even higher than the peak of the Meneltarma where Eru himself had established his seat. Under her feet lay the debris of so many proud palaces, and corpses, and people struggling with the whirls of the current.
The Queen closed her eyes. For a moment, there was nothing but silence, and a cold mass of liquid cushioning her body in an illusion of security. She leaned back trembling, invoking the dangerous fancy, and refused to look into the eyes of her death.
As the roar of raging water exploded in her ears, the last thing she could see was Ar-Pharazôn´s silhouette disappearing in the distance, while she stood on the docks without saying a word.