She misses Balrogs

As a highkey warning to not in any way consider me good or even passable at Quenyan translations. 

Orcish bodies flew across the cavern, viscera and limbs pooling about the Rogmul's feet, shadow licking and reflecting in black blood and bile. A cacophony of shrieks and pleading mingled with the harsh and off-key note of Gwathnor's roar, shaking the very foundations of Moria from the inside out. A heavy stinking miasma of dread choked the air, making a heart labour against the insidious pull of death. 

A horror truly pulled from the nightmares of the Noldo and returned to life before her.

Hravanis grinned. Her lips pulled back to bare her teeth in the most predatory smile. Her lungs pulled in deep gulps of the sulfurous air, the cloying smell of dead orc, burning flesh, so nostalgic a scent. Let Magor waste his time. She would make prey of this lesser demon before his help came. 

"Mettassë!" she barked, feeling the burn of adrenaline coarse through her body as her muscles tensed with an instinctual thrill, "Mára mahta..."

At last, a worthy fight.

_____

Thank you to Elechir for their needed Quenya contribution