this story is a pure allegory for what Amathlan fears he will become. view Pride's POV here. view Patience's POV here.
“You foolish, spiteful son of Fëanor; you child of Gondolin, the youth of the forgotten - did you think you would be so lucky as to live with pride untempered? That your arrogance and your anger would fetter you not? Harken now to the words I speak; they will be as your doom upon the shores of Arda.”
And in that time did a great winged beast take shape; upon its brow was anger and its eyes were smoldering like flames, and its teeth were jagged and sharp like razors of steel. Its talons were taken alike the swords of those who fell to its wrath and ruin. Its hide, made of scales, were red like the mane of the soldier the beast once was; for this beast that the Men call Pride was once an Elf, fallen to himself and that which he tempered not.
In Pride’s wake did he leave misery and despair; those who once claimed to Love him say that their love has now turned to hate; their trust turned to spite, and they would see this beast felled if it was the last they did - for Pride cared not what ruin was left in the embers of his merciless tongue, and cared less for the correction that was to be imposed upon him.
When Pride still took the form of one of their own he still felt remorse and guilt, and in that others hoped to teach him out of his ways. Pride could twist his words to appease them, but in his heart, there was never true repentance, for pride is not so easily minded.
Where there was Pride, before he was a beast, untamed and wild, he once had a lover, whom the Men call Patience. Where Pride went, willful and obstinate, so did Patience follow, for he waited on Pride to see the error in his ways, and to love him back as wholly as he did so love. Patience was beautiful and kind, his hair silver like the moon and the stars he worshipped, and his aim with a bow was true, but his aim with his heart he thought would be truer. No matter how Pride erred - with his hair and temperament like a flame - Patience was there to receive him with open arms and forgiveness.
Yet, Pride set ablaze with his ferocity and his tongue all who stood in his way, friend or foe. So biting was his tongue that they likened it to the sharp bite of steel; so unmatched was his temper that they likened him to the drakes of old. Time and time again did Pride fail to change his ways, and time and time again did Patience stay by his side, even as their list of allies dwindled.
When at last there stood none but Pride and Patience, facing each other not as lovers, but as enemies. Patience laid his hand upon the cheek of Pride, and he spake these words unto him;
“What love have I for a beast who cannot love me in return?”
And so Patience offered scorn to Pride, and was met with fierce scorn in return, as Pride claimed;
“I have no need for one such as you, who would mind me as a keeper! I am all I need within myself! Begone!” Pride demanded, and so Patience, his face ever tempered, turned from his love and departed, for even in all of his wisdom, Patience could not save that which did not wish to be saved.
And when Pride, a beast he did so become, razed the lands of men and mice alike, there were many who stood in his path. The words of Duty, whom once was his friend, fell upon the deaf ears of the great serpent. He was cast aside in the eyes of Pride, as Pride serves only one master, and it is himself.
Another who once was one who counted herself among the friends of Pride was Loyalty, and her blade cut deep the cheek of the beast, but even her tempered steel shattered eventually against his hardened scales. Pride cared no longer for her counsel.
There was also Wisdom, one who had walked alongside Pride for many years, offering guidance - but he was devoured ‘neath the snapping jaws of the beast, and was lost in the flames.
Men cowered and fled beneath his smoldering gaze; those who had long called the lands their home departed swiftly from the flames, and a meager few remained to test their strength against the wrath of the great beast. When Duty, and Loyalty, and Wisdom fell or retired their efforts, hope was spoken of as a fleeting thing; that none would be left to stop it.
Yet as the great beast on its wicked wings took to the sky, cackling in its perceived victory, of being greater than that which it once was, Patience stepped forward. Now, Pride did not recognize Patience, for Patience bore armor of striking silver and a helm from which plumes of blue flew behind him, and a cloak pinned to his shoulder, in the radiance of the night sky. As he stood alone and faced the serpent, Pride did laugh.
“And who might this fool be, to approach me alone? Can one truly be so arrogant as to temper that which cannot be?”
But Patience did not answer him, and he raised his bow. He drew from his quiver a single arrow, brilliantly silver, reflecting the light of the flames. Then, he spoke over the arrow a behest of true aim, and of fleetness, and of temperance; for Patience could see that which the others could not, and it was a weakness in the armor of Pride.
Bore upon the breastplate of Pride was a lost scale - an opening in his hardened hide. For Pride had once given a piece of himself to Patience, for once he did love Patience as wholly as he was loved, but that time was long past. Thus, around the finger of Patience’s right hand was a ring, set with an opal like fire; once did Pride bear the matching ring of a white-star sapphire, but a beast quarrels himself not with jewelry.
Patience readied his bow and his arrow and made aim for the opening in the breast of Pride. He made his aim, and the glint of the fire against the silver drew the eyes of Pride to the weapon. Unmistakable was the bow that Patience drew against him, and Pride roared his betrayal.
Patience released the arrow with a slip of his fingers.
Silent were all those who looked upon the fateful flight of the arrow.
The furious roar of Pride was one that turned to pain as he was struck; the arrow sundered through his hide with the blessing of the gods, and in vain did the beating of his wings in fury attempt to keep him in flight.
As Pride fell from the sky as night turned to dawn, Patience wept. He tossed aside his helm and fell to his knees, and he wept for long. For as Pride fell, his armor was wrent away, and his wings fell from his back, and no longer was it a beast that fell to his doom, but the Elf he once was. The fire in his chest turned cold with death, and his body crashed into the sea, and it was lost.
Patience wept for six days, and six nights, and on the seventh he stood, abandoning his bow and his quiver. He looked to the sky and the sun and the stars, and he said to them;
“My love was a beast, and my love has fallen; and so now where does temperance remain, if not in the heart of that which it loved? He made for himself his own doom, but did I hasten it, or save him from it?”
