Course Correction by Raaf

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Chapter 5

Elwing’s name does not have an Adûnaic equivalent that I am aware of, so the one used in the chapter is my own attempt. I translated the roots in her name: El (star) -> Nimri (star/elf) and Wing (foam/spray) -> rôth (foam/wave-crest). I’m no linguist so please tell me if it sounds bad.

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Ring-lore was an esoteric field. The Rings of Power was a unique innovation by Eregion’s Brotherhood of Jewel-smiths, and one that was thereafter lost upon the disastrous reveal that their teacher was in fact Sauron in disguise. It was very unlikely, but not impossible, that Númenor would have recorded anything from the Elven craftmasters involved. Míriel thought she might as well try, and was busy checking the indexes in the palace library.

The library was one of the few rooms that were lit with Fëanorian lamps: dazzling crystals lit on the inside by ever-burning, smokeless, blue flames. It was a distinction left over from the days they had better esteemed their lore. The lamps were suspended in a net of silver chains below the ceiling, casting their glow over the shelves and desks in the large room. Like many of Fëanor’s creations, no-one else had managed to recreate the craft of making them and the only remaining Fëanorian lamps were a limited stock of treasured heirlooms, kept safe over the millenia. Even in the palace they were not commonly used. The fascinating artifact was one of the reasons this was her favourite room as a child.

Míriel did actually find accounts from Númenórean officials who had visited Eregion’s capital city of Ost-in-Edhil. Some of which involved ‘Annatar’, but none of which mentioned the Rings. The descriptions of Annatar were very different from Sauron’s current guise. She hadn’t thought of that, but it did make sense. Sauron had, after all, needed to fool Elves who could potentially have encountered him before as Morgoth’s Lieutenant. Despite his concealment, Galadriel had still been suspicious of Annatar, and left Eregion when she could not convince Celebrimbor that it was a mistake to let Annatar join his Jewel-smiths. Since Galadriel did that because she only had suspicions of his ill-intent in his work with the smiths and no-one knew of anything actionable, this was not particularly helpful information to Míriel, but did make the aloof Elven Lady suddenly feel relatable.

Míriel was interrupted when Sauron’s arrival was announced. She at least didn’t have to run into him without warning anymore, but regrettably she could not prevent a royal advisor from asking to access her altogether. Deciding that it would look more suspicious to try to keep him out of the room, she let him in. She was slightly surprised at his presence. Sauron, perhaps acknowledging that he had for now lost his momentum in the court, was spending more time than ever in his temple. Míriel was very concerned about whatever he was plotting there, but that was the one place she could have no ears. No free Man would swear Morgoth’s creeds, for any necessity of pretence. She did know he hadn’t tried to seize anyone to take them into the temple, which was reassuring, but only raised more questions about his purpose.

Míriel went through the greetings perfunctorily. Sauron had arrived in Númenor already conversant with the customs of their nobility. Unsettlingly, that had practically confirmed the rumour that some of his Nazgûl were originally Númenórean lords. Everything about his persona, from his speech to the fair form he had assumed, was crafted to manipulate the court. Sauron was consequently very good at being charming when he tried to be. This was undermined by how incredibly disturbing the incongruous facade came across when you knew the true malevolence behind it. Bafflingly, entirely too many people who should have known better still fell for it.

“I hadn’t realized you had a library here.” Sauron looked curiously at the shelves.

Míriel watched with annoyance as Sauron flipped through her books. They were copies — the original manuscripts, which ranged from old to ancient, needed more preservation than a bookshelf and were stored in the Loremasters’ archives — but she had many fond memories of them. With Sauron enflaming the anti-Elvish sentiment, those originals were not as safe as they should be either.

She took the opportunity to surreptitiously look at his hands. On his left index finger was an understated golden ring. The fiery inscription was written in the familiar tengwar runes, but read nonsensical words which presumably meant something in his Black Speech. She had seen it before, but hadn’t realized its significance before Gil-galad’s revelation. Such an innocuous thing to be so significant.

"Leithian as well? I read Pengolodh's[6] work at Ost-in-Edhil, but they hadn’t included this biased tale. I see the written version is even worse. I know poetic exaggeration has its purpose, but this lay takes it entirely too far.” Sauron tsked as he put the manuscript back soon after he had taken it.

Productions of the Lay of Leithian were encouraged by the Royal House even after their break from the Elves. It was very convenient for any ruler to remind their people that the royals’ revered bloodline descending from the Holy Ones was a matter of historical fact. It was simple enough for kings who did not want to give credit to the Elves or Ainur to emphasise the heroics of the mortal hero Beren and downplay the help he had received. Beren’s kin had always tended to do that regardless. The King’s Men could take it as propaganda of their own just by adding some focus on the unsympathetic Elves portrayed. The Elf King Thingol’s callous dismissal of Men and the outright villainy of the Fëanorians, Curufin and Celegorm, made that very easy.

It had only stopped under Sauron's influence, who had not taken gracefully the unflattering depiction of his embarrassing defeat. The cessation bothered Míriel less than it should have. Listening to the epic exploits of her legendary, half-Maia foremother, who had taken on both Sauron and Morgoth and won, only made her own powerlessness feel worse. But Míriel was no Lúthien, and even Lúthien could not have accomplished her feats if Beren had wavered and helped Sauron instead.

Míriel would have dearly liked to emulate Lúthien’s trouncing of Sauron, but lacked a convenient, friendly Valinorean Hound. In her case a physical confrontation would not actually help, either. Lúthien having had to wrest a Silmaril from the Iron Crown of Morgoth was closer to their problem with Sauron and the Ring, but incapacitating Morgoth was a feat only Lúthien could have managed. You could not ensnare someone more powerful than yourself in an enchantment. Lúthien had only succeeded in charming Morgoth asleep by also charming him more metaphorically with her beautiful dance in order to trick him into keeping his gaze on her. Sauron by no accounts shared Morgoth’s weakness for that sort of thing. Which was a relief, as Míriel very much did not want to have to attempt that tactic.

She wondered if Celebrimbor really had left that account out. Poor Celebrimbor’s own reputation had undergone some posthumous vindication after his steadfast resistance had brought him a very ugly death even by Sauron’s usual standards, but the Fëanorians in general had not been kindly treated in the histories. She knew how unpleasant it was to have all your relatives’ evil actions detailed. Although hers were usually praised for them instead of condemned, and she was uncertain if that was better or worse.

"I am surprised at you, Ar-Zimraphel,” Sauron smiled slyly, “banned material, right in the heart of your capital?"

"These works have great historical significance and they are hardly spreading subversive ideas to anyone impressionable from in here." Míriel responded evenly. “What was it you wanted?”

Pharazôn had never paid much attention to the library — which mostly consisted of volumes in Elven languages he couldn’t comfortably read — and did not particularly care either about a collection of illegal material that no-one other than herself would access. She had not fallen so low yet that someone could cause trouble over her bending Sauron’s law against ‘spreading Elvish propaganda’.

“I simply wanted to see how you were. We really must settle our differences sometime.” Sauron said.

“Really.” Míriel said sceptically. “You can’t have missed that I despise you and everything you stand for. Are you going to try and pretend you don’t hate us now?”

There was no point in hiding her feelings when they were alone. Even if she could have stomached pretending to cooperate with Sauron, he wouldn’t have believed it.

“Can we not let bygones be bygones?” Sauron sighed. “I had a dispute with your kingdom, you had one with me in turn. But I do like you Númenóreans, you have the power of the Elves without having their intractability. You had already left them behind before I came, and even more so now with my guidance.”

“Everyone saw the benefit your guidance gave Ost-in-Edhil.” Míriel said pointedly.

Sauron had spent centuries living unobtrusively in Celebrimbor’s city and never faltered in his guise as Annatar. Then he played his hand and destroyed them. That he had behaved himself humbly for a paltry decade in Númenor proved nothing. Unlike Celebrimbor, Míriel knew exactly who and what she was dealing with.

“Yes, and after everything I taught them, those greedy fools still betrayed me to steal my work.” Sauron snarled, clenching his fists.

Míriel blinked at his outburst. It seemed she struck a nerve there. ‘Surely Sauron didn’t actually believe his own line about working to the benefit of Middle-earth?’ Míriel thought bemused. On the one hand, she really wanted to ask what exactly had happened there. Everyone else who had been directly involved in the Ring incident was dead. Some of them might have been re-embodied since then, but as Númenor no longer had contact with Aman that made no difference. The Elves of Lindon had only found out that Sauron had invaded Eregion after he had already sacked Ost-in-Edhil. On the other hand, Sauron’s spin of the events would be worse than useless for learning anything.

“But they no longer matter.” Sauron said more calmly. “Your scepticism is unfounded. I know many things beyond your mortal limitations, and haven’t I been generous in sharing my teaching?”

“Devising engines is not comparable to changing the natural order.” Míriel disputed. “Besides, you served Aulë the Smith and not Estë the Healer, unless you are going to try to claim the histories lied about that as well. Even granting that curing death was possible, it would not be under your purview.”

It was difficult to imagine at all that Sauron the Terrible had once been a force of good, but it was completely ridiculous to picture any benevolent version of his personality in Estë the Gentle’s line of work. Whereas she could almost see how he had fit into the technical focus of Aulë’s forges. Sauron had been politic enough to mix his false promises with other advances that he really could bring into their reach, specifically his vast technical expertise. As the other thing Sauron was chiefly known for was his ability to turn anything to evil purposes, Númenor’s resulting advancements had made them more powerful, but simultaneously increased their dissatisfaction.

“Remember that Melkor shared all the powers of the Valar, and did not accept their arbitrary limitations. Just because the Valar think they must hoard immortality in their land does not mean it is so.” Sauron said.

"I know that changing the Gift of Eru is not in the power of any of the Ainur and that living in the Undying Lands only hastens death for mortals." Míriel disagreed.

“The only reason you have to believe that is Manwë’s messengers saying so.” Sauron countered. “As a counterpoint you simply have to look at what actually did happen when a mortal reached Valinor. Tuor, Azrubêl and Nimrirôth all dared to venture to the Undying Lands and each became immortal as a result. It makes one wonder why exactly Manwë saw fit to eternally isolate them from their kin afterwards.”

“That is a misrepresentation. Tuor is the only one of them that was entirely mortal to start with, and him becoming immortal was a rumour, not a fact.” Míriel said.

"How convenient,” Sauron drawled, “you received these histories from Valinor, yet they are not to be listened to when they say something Valinor finds awkward. But only then."

"I would rather trust old friends than an old enemy.” Míriel retorted.

"You shouldn't. The Valar ruined Middle-earth in war and then abandoned its people to suffer miserable and pointless lives in the aftermath. Can you say with conviction they were right to do so? I know that Númenor, as I also did, took pity on Middle-earth and aided its people in rebuilding while Valinor never gave them another thought. The Valar never had any true understanding of incarnates and no real vision for building Middle-earth up to what it should be. I saw that staying within the confines of their dictates would lead to nothing ever being done, and history has clearly vindicated that view." Sauron declared passionately.

Míriel was unimpressed. “You speak as if you were the only one of the Ainur to venture into Middle-earth. It was Eönwë’s teaching that helped us to build up Númenor and Uinen has long been our protector on the oceans. Neither did anyone in Valinor object to my ancestor, Melian, living in Middle-earth and joining a kingdom of incarnates. If you had honestly cared about helping Middle-earth you could have also done so in a rightful manner. You certainly never needed to join Morgoth and bring destruction instead.”

Middle-earth could certainly have done with a Maia who helped its troubles. Even Melian had returned to Valinor after her husband and daughter died. She wondered why couldn’t he have just done that instead of spreading the Shadow. So many problems could have been averted.

“That route may have worked out for Melian, but I’m afraid marrying my way into a throne wasn't an option for me. Why, are you offering, Míriel?” He smirked.

“What? No!” Míriel spluttered. She took a deep breath. 'Don't let him disconcert you', she told herself sternly. "Without changing the subject, and without being so impertinent, you can explain how you are helping anyone other than yourself.”

“Hasn’t our current association helped Númenor enough?” Sauron asked. “Your professed allegiance would have you refuse to admit it, but you know, Queen, that it pleases you to have your banners flying everywhere to the edges of Arda. Though, I would suggest you complete the picture by making those foolish Elves your protectorate in name as well as in practice. They do make a nuisance of themselves with those nagging letters.”

Míriel felt irritated. Sauron had no business knowing what correspondences had occurred between Númenor and Lindon, but of course he did anyway thanks to Pharazôn’s lapsed judgement. Reopening diplomatic relations with Gil-galad was one area where her father actually did have success, but afterwards that just meant the Elves were being horrified at them directly instead of at distant rumours.

“You know nothing of what I want, and I don’t need your kind of help.” Míriel frowned.

“You have a vision, but your recalcitrant subjects will not fall in line to implement it, and you need a way to overcome their stubbornness to enact your design on them. I understand that perfectly. People never do accept what is best for them.” Sauron sighed. “What you don’t understand is that you should have used different methods than your own if you wanted to accomplish that. You approved Melian’s softhanded guidance, but I'll remind you that her approach ended in her kingdom not following her advice, to their ruin. Eönwë taught your ancestors, but, without anything to reinforce that, they still ended up departing from Valinor’s guidance afterwards. See? I told you that Valinor does not understand how to effectively deal with incarnates. But that is fortunate, Arda could still have been under their thumb if they did.”

“You are missing the point, that they are not obeyed by force is what separates a king from a tyrant.” Míriel argued. “You remember the Great Battle, did the descriptions do it justice? If ruling by Strength was something the Valar were willing to countenance, then they would have simply destroyed your kingdom too, and you would not have been able to make that argument in the first place.”

“Are you sure that is the metric you want to argue?” Sauron smiled, amused. “Your father’s subjects hated him, and they would not have chosen you as their leader either, if they had had a say in the matter.”

“Loyalty does not necessarily entail agreement. Don’t accuse my subjects of treasonous wishes so lightly.” Míriel said coolly.

Míriel herself couldn’t unreservedly agree with all of Manwë’s decisions as the Elder King, but that didn’t mean she thought rebelling against Eru’s vice-regent was wise. And for all the unpopularity her father had had, he had faced much less overt rebellion than he could have had. The Valar themselves had directly appointed Elros as King; the authority of his heir could not be disputed over a philosophical disagreement. Númenor may have turned away from the Valar, but losing the substance of their traditions had never stopped them before from still using them.

This inconsistency was why the King’s Men, despite a few of their points being genuinely valid, had an untenable ideology. Númenor’s privileged position was due to Valinor, and if Valinor’s authority was not legitimate then neither was their own. Without higher ideals, Númenor’s ascendancy was based only on their strength to enforce it. Which would make them no better than Morgoth and Sauron’s tyranny, so of course Sauron would see it that way.

Admittedly, it had also helped Míriel’s father that he had been considerably more intimidating than she was. Tar-Palantir had taken ‘Far-sighted’ as his regnal name because of his gift of Foresight, even the people who had hated him were wary of his truth-speaking. His prediction that the line of Kings would also perish when the White Tree died, had for a long time stymied Sauron’s insistence that Nimloth needed to kindle the altar. Pharazôn had only given in after Nimloth’s fruit was stolen, enraged by such blatant defiance. If Isildur had been less brash then it might not have happened. Míriel was still mostly relieved that she had let Amandil know about the threat to Nimloth[7]. Sauron had already once before succeeded in eventually convincing Pharazôn of the unimaginable when he built the temple in the first place. That had been another situation with no good answers.

“Fair enough.” Sauron acknowledged indifferently. “You still have a naive estimation of Manwë. To be any kind of ruler, one must have something to rule over, and precious little of that had survived Valinor’s last campaign. Manwë cannot make a direct assault without destroying his objective, and he has no talent for the subtle approach. His attempts to bring you back in line have been poorly thought out, haven’t they? We have nothing to fear from his interference.”

“Think about it.” He added when Míriel didn’t respond. He left, leaving Míriel alone with her thoughts.

So Sauron did think he could corrupt her as he had Pharazôn. He had badly misjudged her then. Míriel didn't know if victory was attainable, but, if she would lose, it would not be because she listened to Sauron. Ultimately, the truth or falsehood of Sauron’s persuasions didn’t really matter when she knew he was making them in bad faith

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Chapter End Notes

6 The Elf historian that in-universe wrote down many of the stories in the Silmarillion.
7 Amandil and co obviously had to get all that info they still hear even after leaving Armenelos from someone still there and in the know. Míriel is the obvious person to be responsible for that, and it gives her something to have been doing during Akallabeth.