Surrender after the War of Wrath by Uvatha the Horseman

Hunted

Sauron tries to evade the Hunters of Orome after Melkor meet his end.

Hunted

Near Angband, FA 1000

He flattened his face against the ground and held his breath. In the distance, he heard the horns of Oromë, the baying of the dogs. They were hunting down the stragglers. They were hunting him.

If they found him, he was finished.

A group of them thundered past, pursuing a terrified Balrog. He tripped, and before he got up, the horsemen closed the distance between them. The first horseman to reach him raised his spear, drew back his arm, took aim.

“No, please! I yield!” he begged.

Mairon realized the Balrog was someone he knew. He remembered him from the Battle of Gondolin. He’d belonged to the squad of Balrogs that attacked the hidden city. Mairon was their Captain, after Gothmog was killed.

Balrogs were simple creatures. None of them were clever, but this one was hardworking and reliable, and Mairon liked him.

He rammed the spear through his body. There was a sickening crunch. Mairon heard a scream, and then a few whimpers, but they didn’t last long. He heard Oromë’s hunters laughing.

They were so close. He could hear them talking among themselves.

“We chased him into the deepest dungeons of Angband. I wasn’t close enough to see what happened, but I heard a little of it. He begged for his life. He was sobbing, ‘I surrender, I surrender!’ They didn’t stop. It was like watching a pack of dogs tear a rabbit to pieces.

“The pleas gave way to screams. I heard him cry out in fear and anger. Then it changed in tone, to a scream of unbearable pain. And then silence. That was the worst. I listened for a long time, but heard nothing more. The pack surrounding him broke up, relaxed now. It was over.”

Melkor. They got him. Mairon didn’t make a sound. If he had, they would have found him. He waited until they were well away, then let grief roll over him in waves.

He realized he had been lying to himself. Until now, he thought Melkor would endure trial and a return to his old cell, from which he would never emerge. There would be no trial. Melkor was gone.

Angband was in ruins, Melkor was defeated.

He hated being hunted, hated the suspense of waiting to be caught. He knew he was a target. He knew they won’t let him escape. 

He was tired. He wanted to go home.

He longed for his old life before the Rebellion, for familiar faces, his own bed. He would beg Aulë to take him back. So much had happened since he’d left the Mansions of Aulë. Would Aulë even recognize him?