Good grief’s freeing – in mourning, he's maladroit, miserly consumptive. Fire and Spirit – hot, dry splendor, he was ever for her brothers. Her tears he yoked, harnessed to machinery, to further further machinations. Then he burned terrifying, grief feeding grief to feed rage – endlessly!
Fear the fire that fears subsiding.
But she sits at his hearth, stings his breast with regret until, maddened, he rives himself.
Fire fills that void, cracks him wide – ends him early. Nienna lies amid the heat of his ashes, her blisters weeping.
But she will to Mandos, to his hearth again – endlessly – ‘til patience overcome him…