Errant and treacherous child of Eru!
I behold him now, as he deceives and destroys the hapless and foolish Celebrimbor, and now he stands in the cavern of the Fire Mountain, thinking to cast and forge a deadly Ring.
I have watched, all along, all the many years he dallied with the Mírdain, seducing and deducing all the while, learning, teaching as well, but mostly- learning.
It was all an epic deception, and I am sure his massive and relentless ego is quite stroked by successfully finalizing it.
As I watch and grieve, he forges the Ring, enchants it, makes it a receptacle for a large part of his own self- a hideously reckless idea- born only from one whose arrogance knows no bounds.
I would have stopped him if I could have- as much for his own sake, as that of the world itself.
He knows not what he is doing!
In fathomless conceit, he foolishly seals himself to the Ring.
Oh wild and dangerous Maia!
If only I could have stayed your immature actions and rebellious hand.
But it was not allowed.
We all must choose our own destiny.
And like a child with a deadly weapon, he proceeds, knowing not what he is earning for himself.
Then, I see him make war on his former lover, obliterating the Elven company and taking Celebrimbor captive.
He does not torture him.
He does not terrorize him.
His actions are those of a mind mad with its own glory, deeming such actions beneath them, and his plan is far worse.
He approaches the tragic Elven leader, and offers him a bargain:
Serve me, and you may live, and love me yet.
Celebrimbor struggles with desire, love beyond measure- and then- honor overtakes him, and he refuses, saying only:
“I love you, monster and menace that you are, and I will not further your ruin by encouraging your evil with my compliance.”
And Annatar- the golden angel of light- looks at Celebrimbor in stunned anger- bested, in truth, now, by the decision- and the reason for it!
Then the anger fades in his eyes, and I behold what must be a last ray of his higher self- what he was before- and he leans forward and kisses Celebrimbor, very gently, and with obvious sincerity.
You already know I cannot allow you to live, then, he tells him, and Celebrimbor nods, never taking his eyes from Annatar’s.
And then the Deceiver turns away, and bids his men to finish it, and quickly, do it quickly, and cleanly.
And it was done.
All this, I beheld. And wept.
But then, he came upon a foe that he could not defeat: Númenor.
At first, his idea was to vanquish them, to punish them severely in battle. But they surpassed him, and then, the tactics changed.
Overtake them with fair face and beautiful promise, and then- bring them down.
To Ar-Pharazon he was brought in chains, and he fell before the Throne of Númenor the Great.
The King looked upon him, impassive face hiding his feelings and thoughts.
But I saw them.
Lust, growing as a summer shower becomes a raging storm, and his heart raced at the sight of the stunning Sauron, kneeling before him.
Sauron. The Abomination. The Abhorred!
How did he get that name?
It became his common name, but it was never truly his name. I never called him that.
If he had- at any point- repented in any honesty and surrendered, I would have given him mercy.
But I would not have pardoned him. If I did not pardon Melkor, my nearest of kin, I would not pardon the errant Flame.
It is not a matter of cruelty, or coldness.
Pardon denotes that something is forgiven AND forgotten. Neither Melkor nor Sauron would derive any benefit from such a concept- rather, it would only encourage their desire for rebellion, thinking there is no real penalty. The idea of it being a mercy is lost on such as they, for they find a way to turn it to their own disadvantage, and to re-ignite their own doom.
No, I would not have pardoned him.
But the sentence would have been lenient, and not terribly severe.
But his mind- as with my brother- was not inclined to such things.
Only at the very last moments, did Melkor surrender, and it was only out of fear, and the realization that he was totally bested- and there was no remorse, or repentance, at all.
If I had released him- pardoned him- he would have immediately set out to destroy, yet again. It is simply something he cannot seem to help doing, now.
And now, Sauron, Annatar, Flame!
What evil you set out to do- I wept for your terror as Númenor was drowned, and you with it- all your lust for revenge suddenly fading as your heart filled with fear, and your lungs with the cruel water. Yes, I pitied you, poor maniacal Sauron!
But deeper was my grief for the innocent and guileless victims, thousands, millions, swept under the Sea.
All for you.
And then, like a ravening ghost, you fled the scene, sated, exulted, recovering.
And where will you go now, and what do you scheme?
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.