Sauron's Worst Nightmare by Uvatha the Horseman

The Void

The Void

Date Unknown

It was a half day’s journey from Valimar to the Door of Night on the Western-most edge of Valinor. They walked behind Manwë in silence. Sauron walked with his head bowed, his hands bound behind his back. The chain connecting his ankles was unusually short, forcing him to take small steps. If he’d tried to run, he’d have fallen flat on his face. Each of his guards kept a restraining hand on his elbow, but it wasn’t necessary. He had given up.

He once heard that a rabbit in the jaws of a wolf, when all hope is gone, goes limp and feel no pain. When they stop struggling, a feeling of calm comes over them. That’s what he was feeling now.

They reached the Door of Night just before sunset. Now, they had only to wait for the Door to open. When it did, they would have to act quickly. They had only a few minutes before the setting Sun descended through the Door and forced them back.

They waited. Sauron regretted not seeing Eönwë. He spoke to Manwë. “Eönwë wanted to say goodbye to me, but I wouldn’t see him. Please tell him goodbye for me, and will you tell him I’m sorry?” Manwë said, “I will. I think he understands.”

It was almost time.

Manwë blindfolded Sauron’s eyes. “There’s no reason he needs to see this” he explained to the guards. That was so like Manwë. He was always kind, even to a vanquished enemy. Even to one who deserved this.

Sauron prayed softly. “Ilúvatar who made me, I descended into Ea to help build the world you created with your thought. Now I return to you in utter disgrace. The fault is my own. Never have I deserved your love less, and I never needed it more.” Manwë was close enough to hear, but he turned his attention elsewhere to allow him his privacy.

Sauron heard the Door open, a loud terrible sound like iron screaming. He guessed the door was standing fully open now, because he could feel cold on his face. Unimaginably cold. He knew he was standing on the brink of The Void. He was grateful he couldn’t see the empty sucking blackness beyond the Door. He was badly afraid.

It was time.

He knew what was supposed to happen next, what he was supposed to do, but he couldn’t move. He simply couldn’t move.

“Do you need my help?” Manwë asked. Sauron nodded mutely. “Take a minute. Just let me know when you’re ready.” Manwë stepped behind him and held his arms firmly. Manwë’s grip restrained him, but it also provided comfort. Sauron wasn’t ever going to be ready, and they both knew it. Another minute went by, but he still couldn’t make himself give the signal. It didn’t matter. Without warning, he was shoved from behind. Hard.

Hard enough to make him lose his balance and fall forward. He expected to land on his knees, or his face. But instead, he kept on going, falling into the pit that had been prepared for him.

He screamed.