[ The way Sauron grows larger, to full Maiar-height, speaks far more of his rage than the hand that swells large enough to grip Adar's upper-body in his fist and force those tiny blades to the floor. ]

You belong to me. Everything you are and have is at my grace. Nothing in these walls is yours by debt or because you are owed it. You grow too stupid in your simpering, no more my prized uruk than the corpses on this floor, all because you were given a gift and indulged yourself above my pleasure for you to do so.

[ The sconces in the walls flare to the ceiling, Sauron seething as his eyes brighten and his words echo through Adar's skull, forcing their way inside. ]

Do not believe in your foolishness there is nothing more for me to take away from you.