Sauron's Worst Nightmare by Uvatha the Horseman

Námo

Námo

The Prison Fortress of Mandos, Date Unknown

On the first day he felt well enough to leave his bed and get dressed, Sauron heard the key in the outer door. When it opened, two guards entered the room. One was carrying a washbasin and the other had a folded stack of clothing.

They told Sauron he was to wash and put on clean clothes. He had not bathed or changed clothes during his captivity, and was badly in need of both. His hair hung in greasy strings. The cycling fever and the sweating it caused hadn’t made him smell any better. Fastidious by nature, it was unlike him to stay grimy for long, even when he was working in the Forge.

The first guard put the washbasin through the pass-through. The second guard put the stack of clothes on the floor in front of the pass-through where he could reach them easily. Then they left the room. The door shut itself behind them. Sauron noticed that the metal cover over the spy hole in the door remained open.

There were towels in the washbasin. Underneath them was a bar of soap. Sauron the washbasin underneath the spigot and turned the water on. While waiting for it to fill, he stripped off his clothes and dropped them on the floor. He normally folded anything he took off and stacked it neatly, but his clothes were so filthy, he knew he wouldn’t be putting them on again. He used the pitcher to pour water over his head.  The water was cold, but it couldn’t be helped. Being clean was a luxury and he intended to enjoy it.

After he finished, Sauron wrapped himself in a towel and finger combed his wet hair. He felt good for the first time since he woke up in the cell. Then he went over to look at the clothes.

The clothes they brought him were new and clean, of fine materials in colors that looked good on him. He was pleased with them. The cuffs of the sleeves were decorated with skillful embroidery in a pattern of leaves. He admired skilled workmanship, even though he rarely wore fine clothing himself. He could if he wanted to, but he preferred a blacksmith’s leather apron over a course linen shirt. He didn’t work in the forge as often as he would have liked, but it was still how he thought of himself.

Then he had another thought, and froze. The clothes were for a formal or even a ceremonial occasion. What he needed in a prison cell in the deepest levels of Mandos were everyday clothes, preferably warm ones. The only ceremonial occasion in his near future that he could think of was a summons to the Ring of Doom.

Soon after he finished dressing, the outer door opened. He had a visitor. Normally he looked forward to having someone to talk to. But he fell silent when Námo, the Lord of Mandos, entered the room accompanied by two of his people. Lord Námo, grim and unsmiling, was the only one among the Valar who revealed prophecies and pronounced doom.

Námo spoke.

“But in after years he rose like a shadow of Morgoth and a ghost of his malice, and walked behind him on the same ruinous path down into the Void.”

Námo told Sauron he was summoned to the Ring of Doom, and Námo himself was going to take him there. Sauron was about to face what he’d avoided for so long. He stood there, stricken. It was about to happen. He had known about the prophecy for a long time, but it was in the distant future so he hadn’t worried about it. Until now.

I have nothing left to fight with. I have lost. It is time to negotiate the terms of surrender.

Námo’s people unlocked the grating cover and held it open. When Námo commanded him to, Sauron climbed out through the opening.

One of the guards held chains. Another took hold of Sauron’s wrist. An unseen guard in the corridor unlocked the door to the corridor and pushed it open.

Without thinking, Sauron shoved the first guard aside, punched the second, and bolted through the open door. He went flying down the corridor towards the stairs ..

Daylight!

until he fell flat on his face after hitting a tripwire. He was on his feet in an instant, and already running, when Námo stepped through the door and ordered him to stop.

Not going to happen.

He heard Námo speak an incantation. A white light exploded inside his head and dropped him in his tracks.