Sauron's Worst Nightmare by Uvatha the Horseman

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The Ring of Doom

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The Ring of Doom  (Language)

Date Unknown

When he came to, he was lying on his belly with his cheek pressed against a cold marble floor. His hands were bound behind his back. When he tried to move, he heard the clink of chains. Not good. His vision returned slowly. He saw feet, and the hems of robes, everywhere he looked. From their voices, he learned they belonged to the members of the Council of Valar

Ever since the end of the First Age when Melkor fell, Sauron’s greatest fear was of being brought to the Circle of Doom and standing before the Valar.

Manwë was the first to speak.

“You hit the guard who took care of you while you were ill. He’s injured, by the way.”

“Please tell him I’m sorry.” Sauron said.

I hope he understands why I did it. When I was sick, he must have seen how hard I fought to live. He was happy for me when I pulled through. Surely, he must understand that when I tried to escape, I was fighting to live. Maybe he even admires me for not giving up, even when the situation was hopeless.

“The Council is ready to pass sentence. Is there anything you’d like to say first?” said Manwë.

“There is.” said Sauron.

He arched his back to look at Manwë, but immediately fell face forward with a cramp in his neck. He rolled over, and with great difficulty, got one and then the other knee under his body. He sat back on his heels and looked Manwë in the eye.

“You have no right to judge me.”

“Excuse me?” asked Manwë.

“You have no right to judge me. This proceeding is illegal. When I left to follow Melkor, I moved from Valinor to Arda, outside of your jurisdiction. The laws of Valinor do not apply to Arda.”

And even if they do, just try to enforce them. You’re never there.

“You cannot convict me for breaking the laws of Valinor, because I dwell in Arda, and they do not apply to me.”

“The jurisdiction of the Valar covers all of Ea.”

Shit.

“Would you like to know what charges have been brought against you?” asked Manwë.

Bite me.

“I’ll take that as yes.

In addition to the charges you would have faced if you’d come here when Eönwë commanded you to,

- You tortured the elven smith Celebrimbor to death.

- You led the invasion of Eregion, which resulted in the scouring of Eriador. Whole populated regions disappeared.

- You masterminded the Invasion of Valinor, which profoundly scared the population here, and resulted in the drowning of Númenor and the extinction of the Númenorian people.

- You were responsible for the Great Plague that devastated Gondor.

- You lured Eärnur, the last King of Gondor, to his death under the pretense of meeting him in single combat.

- You imprisoned and tortured the Dwarven king Thrain, who went mad before he died.

Sauron listened to the charges. His face held no expression.

I didn’t even do all of those things. And I never intended the invasion to be successful. They only got through by accident. I didn’t drown Númenor, Ilúvatar did. I didn’t start the Plague, I claimed to have done it. Not the same thing. And in case you don’t remember, Angmar did in the king of Gondor. I didn’t even order it.

He had been tried in absentia. He hadn’t been there to defend himself or to throw himself on the ground and beg for pardon. Absent and undefended, the Valar pronounced upon him their harshest possible sentence.

Sauron knew, when he was honest with himself, that the Valar gave up trying to reform him long ago. His sentence would have no prison term, no penance or servitude. They weren’t going to bother to punish him. They just wanted him gone. Not living in Arda anymore. Not living at all.

Manwë pronounced the sentence.

“Sauron Gorthaur”, he pronounced in slow formal tones. “The Council has determined that you have gone entirely to evil and cannot be reformed. You will be brought to the Door of Night in the extreme West. There you be put into the Void.” Manwë looked grim. He added gently, “It will be quick. You won’t suffer.”

What they did to Melkor, they are about to do to me.

“Now that I have pronounced your sentence, is there anything you would like to say?” This was an occasion for the condemned to apologize for his crimes, or to beg for the mercy he did not deserve.

Manwë expected Sauron to try to bargain. He expected to hear him say, “I’ll do anything you want. Please don’t do this!” He expected Sauron to plead, “Give me a sentence of penal servitude. I’ll become the lowest of all the Maiar and do the worst jobs that no one else will touch. I’ll lie on the cold stone floor of Melkor’s cell for as long as you ask me to, and never once complain. All I ask is to be allowed to repent and return to Aulë’s service. I deeply regret my crimes. Please don’t rob me of the change to make atonement!” This was his pattern. The problem was that his zeal for atonement always wore off.

But Sauron knew there would be no pardon for him and he wasn’t fool enough to ask for it.

“I want to say goodbye to Aulë.” Sauron said softly.

“I’ll ask him.” Manwë replied gently. “But he might not want to see you.”

Aulë stepped forward and stopped several paces in front of him. Sauron’s first Master held his face carefully neutral. Aulë looked just like he always had, long wild hair, bushy beard, tall with massively wide shoulders and muscular from working in the Forge. He looked without expression at his former servant, the one who had been his favorite, the one he had disowned.

Sauron spoke the words rehearsed for this occasion, should it come. “Aulë, I want to thank you for raising me. For teaching me to work with my hands. To make beautiful and useful things from the humblest materials. For everything you  … “ Nervous, Sauron realized he’d forgotten his lines.

Then, without knowing he was going to do it, Sauron flung his arms around Aulë’s neck. “Oh, Aulë! I missed you so much! So many times after I left you, I wanted to come home!”

Aulë felt like he was being manipulated. He assumed Sauron was still speaking from a script. Aulë stood impassively with his hands at his sides, his face a mask, unreadable. Finally Sauron let go and stepped back, his feeling badly hurt.

Aulë said coldly, “What do you want from me?”

Aulë expected his former servant to ask him to intercede with the Valar on his behalf and obtain a lesser sentence. To take him back into his service. To protect him. But instead, very softly, Sauron said to Aulë,

“I’m frightened. When it happens, will you pray for me?”

Aulë swept Sauron up in a bear hug, squeezing him hard. Sauron thought his bones would break, and wished it would go on forever. But too soon, a guard put his hand on Aulë’s arm. “I’m sorry. It’s time.”

Aulë released Sauron from the embrace and, with his hands on his shoulders, regarded him from arms’ length. “If I don’t see you again, take care of yourself.” he said gruffly, and cuffed Sauron lightly on the shoulder. Sauron nodded, but couldn’t speak.

There were people, Eönwë among them, who wanted to say goodbye, but he didn’t want to see them. He’d already begun to withdraw to a place inside his head where they couldn’t follow. He was shutting down. He didn’t answer when people spoke to him. After a time, he didn’t even understand what was being said to him.