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Now the lightnings increased and slew men upon the hills, and in the fields, and in the streets of the city; and a fiery bolt smote the dome of the Temple and shore it asunder, and and it was wreathed in flame. But the Temple itself was unshaken and Sauron stood there upon the pinnacle and defied the lightning and was unharmed; and in that hour men called him a god and did all that he would.
(J.R.R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion, Akallabêth)
And this is Pandemonium's take on the same scene.
The wings of the clouds descended upon him like a falcon upon a hare. The swirling murk wrapped itself around the pinnacle. Thunder became castigation, and the wind-driven hail stung of punishment.
"I am here, Mânawenûz," he whispered in his mother tongue. Then he lifted his voice, putting the power of the Ainur behind it so that he could be heard over the thunder and the howling wind, and he cried out in defiance: "Come! Come and take me, Eagles of Manwë!"
Mairon spread his arms, turning his palms up and tilted his head back, exposing his throat, just as men's throats invited the holy blade during the sacrifices. He invited the lightning, but still he waited.
Then it came. The first bolt struck the cage, wreathing it in white flame. The scent of ozone engulfed him. Mairon felt his heart skip a beat but watched entranced while the charge crackled around the copper bars, pleased and relieved that his device had worked according to theory. The lightning jabbed at him again and again, its claws trying to gain entry into the cage but finding none. Mairon smiled with triumph when the storm's talons were rendered impotent to harm him. [...]
After throwing a final spear, the thunder grumbled with frustration, and the storm rolled away toward the eastern seas. The Zigûr returned to the temple then. They beheld him with wonder and blanched before his grim countenance. The gathered crowd parted to let him pass into the sanctuary. First one murmured it, then another, then more, their voices swelling as they followed the high priest into the temple:
"He defied the lightning!"
"The Zigûr turned back the spears of Manwë!"
"He is a god. Yes, the Zigûr is a god!"
Mairon turned his smile of satisfaction inward while his congregation clamored around him, keeping his face solemn while he walked toward his seat before the statue of Melkor, but he was well pleased: Let there be no doubt now.