The Turning of Angwë by WendWriter

Chapter 1

Angwë, a Maia, was a disciple of Aulë the Smith, a Vala. He was furious about the destruction of the great Lamps that had lit the world during the War of Powers, but his chief concern was ever that the work he had done in the making of the mountains would be utterly destroyed. This he could not, would not bear.

At the time of the Awakening of the Elves, while the only light came from the stars above, Angwë was roaming through the Red Mountains near Cuiviénen when he met Sauron, who greeted him in friendly fashion: "Hail, Angwë, well met!"

"Hail yourself, traitor! I should go for Tulkas forthwith!" Angwë was outraged at the rebel's apparently casual attitude. Tulkas the Wrestler, a Vala famed for his great strength, would soon show Sauron the error of his ways.

"Why do you greet your own brother in such a foul tone?" Sauron soothed. "I fail to see why there should be any enmity between us."

"Perhaps you would care to explain the destruction of the Lamps we both had a hand in making?" Angwë raged. "And you smile at me, you villain, as if you were innocent of any wrongdoing!"

"What need of silly trinkets do the Ainur have?" Sauron countered. "Were we not enlightened enough before this Middle Earth was made? Or do you deny that our great labours were not for our own benefit?"

"Your thoughts, Abhorred One," Angwë argued, "are no longer in sympathy with those of Eru our Creator. His Song is no longer found in your mouth. Therefore, do not insult us by calling yourself by that title."

"Aye," Sauron purred, "and there is the rub, my brother: we were supposed to be the greater of Ilúvatar's works, but lo! We are not even teachers, but servants to these... creatures, the Elves. I fail to see the point of all this running hither and thither in aid of them. May we not have our own desires?"

"We came because we loved the Children, did we not? We had a choice," Angwë retorted.

"Is that what you believe?" Sauron scoffed. "At the time of the Shaping of the world, I thought I would be a tutor to them, not a nursemaid!"

"And what would you teach them?" Angwë asked him.

"Knowledge, power, and the proper order of things. They are so foolish, Angwë. 'Tra la la lally' indeed!"

"I must admit that one makes me laugh," Angwë chuckled.

Sauron seethed in silence. He slipped away until an opportune time.

No tale tells exactly where it was that Aulë the Smith of the Valar fashioned the race of Dwarves. Angwë watched, as fond as an uncle, as the Dwarves began to make their mark on Arda. They made the most delicate jewellery, the strongest weapons, and their work with stone was unrivalled. Angwë laughed to himself when he thought of Sauron, who had joined the rebellion with Melkor who was now called Morgoth, for he saw that though many of the Children did indeed while their time away in the pursuit of pleasure and idle luxury, they still would work when they wanted to, and work well. Sauron had misunderstood: the Children were a part of Arda. Their work was to shape it in their way as the Ainur had done before them.

Angwë loved the Dwarves at first, for he had aided in their making, and it pleased him to see them walk upon the earth at last. He took great delight in their achievements at first, and gave them visions and dreams in which he taught them many secrets. However, there was one thing they did that eventually set him in enmity against them one day, and it was this: led by Durin the Deathless, their First Father, they came upon the lake they called Kheled-zâram, "Mirrormere," beneath the mountain Celebdil, and there began the delvings of the great realm of Khazad-dûm. Deep they dug, and greedily, for there they discovered mithril, a metal that was supple, light and stronger than steel. Now as they dug they shaped their tunnels until they became a great underground mansion, with beautifully worked pillars that stretched upwards for hundreds of feet, making vast halls that awed all who came to see them. Angwë was annoyed at this because Celebdil was the mountain he had made, and he held it dear to his heart.

Sauron, knowing this, approached him at this time and said to him, "Do you know that your little Dwarves have been carving up your mountain? Great treasure they have found there: mithril, I believe. I understand that it is greatly valued by the Elves, and they have placed a large order for it."

"I know what they are doing to my mountain," Angwë replied. "What of it?"

"Whatever are you going to do about it?" Sauron asked him in his most annoying, mocking tones.