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I am not sure I would say that he wanted to die. He wanted many things: His father back. His silmarils back. The world to burn with his pain.
However, I do think he saw a kind of victory in death. You mortals do not understand how, to us, death can be an act of defiance. We are cursed with immortality. Cursed to fade into obscurity, to become background, to be forgotten.
Could he have accepted that? Could he have tolerated growing old, growing wise, growing irrelevant?
I think some people need to burn, just to be alive. I think my father is more alive in death than he would have been in life after an age or two. They are all immortal now, my father and my brothers, immortalised in blood and fire and legend.
Only I am dying. Only I am already dead. I died a long time ago, by the sea, in the death throes of a drowning continent. My brothers’ immortality began where mine ended.