There, take the body, cursed sons! and may the heavens rain…

“There, take the body, cursed sons! and may the heavens rain wrath, As thick as northern fogs, around your gates, to choke you up! That you may lie as now your mother lies—like dogs, cast out; The stink of your dead carcases annoying man and beast, Till your white bones are bleached with age for a memorial. No! your remembrance shall perish; for, when your carcases Lie stinking on the earth, the buriers shall arise from the East, And not a bone of all the sons of Tiriel remain. Bury your mother, but you cannot bury the curse of Tiriel.”