Surrender after the War of Wrath by Uvatha the Horseman

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Released

Sauron askes Eönwë for pardon, and is released on his own recognizance.

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Released

Near Angband, FA 1000

The Host of Valinor had been victorious, but their victory had come at a great cost. Several of their number had been injured or maimed, and one had fallen. The mood in the camp was solemn.

Then, during the night, Eönwë’s tent was attacked and his guards slain. Someone grabbed the Silmarils Eönwë recovered from Morgoth’s crown and fled with them. The whole camp was roused, and the attackers were caught and unmasked as Fëanor’s sons. They would have been put to death, but Eönwë let them go. The decision was his to make, but it was not popular.

Eönwë sat behind the table he was using as a desk. Several of his councilors crowded around him, discussing the attack and the loss of the Silmarils so soon after they were recovered from Morgoth’s crown.

A young Maia burst through the tent flaps, interrupting their discussion.

“Sauron Gorthaur has surrendered!”

This was a major development. Whenever they captured Morgoth, his elusive second-in-command vanished like smoke. The Hunters of Oromë were looking for him, but Eönwë had no reason to think he’d be captured alive. Their first order of business was to bring him in and interrogate him.

Eönwë didn’t want to see him.

Sauron helped Morgoth make war on the Children of Ilúvatar, killing them or worse, turning them into monsters. It was an unforgivable crime.

He was my friend once, when we were young. He was a decent person then. Perhaps some trace of who he had been still remained, and could yet be salvaged.

“Bring him in.”

“Why would you even agree to see him, when he’s evil?”

“I don’t know if I believe in evil. I know he behaved badly, but he must have had a reason for it. I just want to understand. Even if he ignored the rights and feelings of others, perhaps it was due to a kind of blindness, rather than a willful intent to do harm. The harm done may have been accidental.”

The tent flap was lifted from outside. Sauron Gorthaur came in between two guards, his hands behind his back. He looked like he’d been sleeping in a ditch. His face bore no expression, and his eyes were on the ground.

“What brings you here?” Eönwë asked, his voice carefully neutral.

Sauron opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Eönwë was about to tell him to speak up, but stopped himself when he noticed his face was chalk white, and he was trembling.

“Take your time.” Eönwë said gently.

Sauron swallowed and tried again.

“The Rebellion has been crushed. I am defeated. I wish to be reconciled with Aulë.” He spoke in a monotone.

“Release him.”

The guards let go of his arms. One of them shoved him between the shoulder blades, making him stumble and fall to his knees. He stayed there, motionless, his hair hanging over his face.

“Is he injured?” Eönwë asked one of the guards.

“No, he doesn’t have a scratch on him.”

Eönwë heard he’d fled the field of battle before the battle began. He’s not hurt, he’s scared, Eönwë thought with contempt.

“What do you want from me?” Eönwë asked him.

“I seek pardon. I will swear under oath that I reject what I did when I served Melkor, and that I have abandoned my old ways. I wish only peace between us.” he said.

Not good enough. He hadn’t said anything about standing trial and submitting to justice, and he hadn’t expressed remorse.

“Get up. Sit.” Eönwë pointed to a chair recently vacated by one of his councilors.

One of the guards pulled him to his feet and cut the leather cord with a penknife. Sauron sat down, rubbing his wrists.

Eönwë picked up a pen. He began the interview with the standard questions. What is your name? Who did you serve? What was your role? He wrote down everything Sauron said.

Once he was answering questions and allowing his answers to be written down, Eönwë moved on to the real interrogation. These questions would elicit the confession to be used in his trial.

Sauron admitted only to things Eönwë already knew about, and revealed nothing new. His answers sounded rehearsed. He minimized the consequences of what he’d done, and shifted blame for his own crimes on to others.

He watched Eönwë’s face closely, gauging the effect of his words, and modifying accordingly. It was annoying, but not unexpected. Eönwë knew Sauron was manipulative.

He also noticed that Sauron’s words didn’t match his expression. When he agreed to something, he shook his head no. When he said he deeply regretted something, he smiled. And when his expression did match his words, it came a half a second too late. Eönwë marveled that even as accomplished a liar as Sauron made those mistakes.

Sauron was playing the role of someone who’d repented and changed sides, but Eönwë could tell he was still protecting himself. Eönwë was getting frustrated with him. Why can’t he trust me enough to tell me the truth? Until he surrenders for real, I can’t help him.

Eönwë decided to bring the interview to an end. He motioned a guard over. He would ask him to add Morgoth’s servant to the row of prisoners who lay facedown in the holding area, their eyes blindfolded and their wrists bound behind their backs. And if they tried to get up, the point of a spear in their back would help them to realize that staying down was probably a better idea. They would remain like that, until they were brought to Valinor for trial.

But when he looked back, he saw something in Sauron’s face. The mask slipped, and then was back, but for an instant, Eönwë saw behind it. Grief, suffering. That’s what Eönwë would feel, too, if his home were destroyed and his own master overthrown.

Eönwë looked around at the others and mouthed, “Leave us.” They looked at him questioningly, but did as they were told. After they filed out of the tent, Eönwë said,

“I’m sorry. I know how much you lost today.”

Sauron hung his head, his hair hiding his face. Eönwë waited. There really wasn’t anything he could do for him, except sit with him and let him grieve. Finally Sauron spoke.

“Don’t waste your pity on me. I don’t deserve it.”

“Why do you say that?” Eönwë asked him.

“I did something really bad.”

Eönwë waited.

“I was the commander of Melkor’s forces, and his Standard Bearer. I stood beside him. I was supposed to protect him. But when Host of Valinor overwhelmed us, I panicked. I dropped his Standard and ran.”

That was different. It was the first authentic thing he’d said since he got here. How to encourage him to talk, before he closed up again?

“When we were young, you were responsible and obedient. You never got into trouble. I’m just trying to understand what happened.”

“It seemed so right, at first. It was exciting. We were away from home for the first time. The constraints were gone. We could get things done faster than we could in Valinor.”

“What happened next?”

He started talking, and once he got started, he couldn’t stop. The words tumbled out unchecked. Eönwë noticed that, for once, his expression agreed with his words.

Eönwë wrote furiously, trying to capture everything he said. His normally careful handwriting sprawled across the page, barely legible, as he tried to keep up with the flow of words.

Then Sauron looked at the ground, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Excuse me, I didn’t catch that.” said Eönwë.

It took Eönwë a moment to realize what he’d just said, and when he did, his hand froze in midair. It was something deeply personal, but it wasn’t a crime, so Eönwë saw no need to record it. He rested his hand beside the paper until they moved on to another topic.

During the interview, Eönwë kept his face neutral, although he was staggered by the crimes Sauron admitted to. Turning into a giant wolf and eating the Firstborn Elves. Promising  someone his life in exchange for betraying his friends, and killing him anyway. Attempting to procure Lúthien Tinúviel for Morgoth’s bed.

Eönwë struggled to understand Sauron’s motives. He enjoyed wielding power. He enjoyed being feared, and cruelty came easily to him. But that wasn’t what drove him. His purpose was to control Arda, in order to restore order and harmony.

If he’s had a different temperament, he might never have been drawn into evil. If he were less impatient, if he didn’t rush into things and cut corners. If he were less angry. But in Morgoth’s service, no one stopped him from committing evil deeds in the service of a worthy goal.

In his misguided way, he served something other than himself. Because of that, Eönwë believed he could still be saved.

“I don’t have the authority to grant you pardon. Go to Manwë and receive his judgment. Renounce your allegiance to Morgoth, and confess to everything you did in his service.

“Don’t be afraid of Manwë. He wants to help you, if you truly regret your past deeds. And he knows that Aulë wants you back.”

Sauron got up. He bowed to Eönwë, then slipped out of the tent and vanished into the night.

One of Eönwë’s advisors entered the tent.

“You’re letting him go?” asked his advisor.

“He’s a voluntary surrender. I can’t spare the men to escort someone who turned himself in. I need them to guard those who were taken unwillingly.

“And I don’t want to deprive him of his best chance to demonstrate good faith. If he shows up for trial on his own, rather than being brought in as a prisoner, it will prove he really means it.”