Dark Star--Chapter Two: Offers

Chapter Two: Offers

The Camp of the Valar

Sauron came to, staring at a swath a white fabric above his head. It took him only about five seconds to figure out that he was in the camp of the Valar. “That means that I was found by somebody or multiple somebodies from the camp, which means that he or she or they found me unconscious after that premonition, which means that I’m in the Healer’s Tent, which means that I’m being tended by Estë and/or Lórien, which means that they probably recognized me…and that I’m probably under constant guard. Just in case,” he thought. “Let’s see if I can find him…” Sauron listened intently for a sound, any sound, which would tell him where the guard was. It was another ten seconds before he found him. A half-smile tugged at his lips. No matter how well trained guards were, they still had to breathe and shift position occasionally.

“And now for the tricky part…” Sauron closed his eyes again, and cast out a streamer of thought towards the guard. The streamer was subtle enough that it would not be readily noticed, and it carried almost none of his power signature.

He received a nasty surprise when the streamer reached its target. The guard was Eönwë, the Herald of Manwë. Sauron’s eyes snapped wide open. “Oh, no. Now what am I going to do?” he thought wildly, withdrawing the streamer. His train of thought was broken by the sound of someone walking away from the tent. “Yep…he recognized me, all right. And for all that I was careful, he probably felt that streamer too…” he sank back into the mattress, panic filling his mind. He barely heard the sound of returning footsteps: two people; one walking quickly, as though he were very anxious to reach the tent and what was inside it; the other very restrained, as though he did not want to get to the tent. The first set of steps steadily quickened to a run, and it wasn’t long before he reached the tent and roughly pushed the flap aside. Sauron stared. The runner was Aulë: the Smith of the Valar, and Sauron’s former Vala, the Vala he had deserted for Morgoth. Sauron watched as the look in his eyes shifted to stunned disbelief. “Aţâra?” he whispered.

Sauron could not suppress a grimace. “Aţâra” had been his name while serving Aulë on the now-sunken Isle of Almaren. It meant only “Appointed One” in literal translation, but the name had been conferred to the mightiest of Aul&#;s servants, as a title of honor…an honor which Sauron felt he no longer deserved. “Lau…No…” he managed. His voice sounded weak in his own ears. “Lá Aţâra. Lau tare. Not Aţâra. No more.”

Aulë came to stand near the bed. “Istanye mana tyáranietye, ar apsenin tye. Ilya nás mai. I know what you have done, and I forgive you. All is well.” he said, putting a hand on Sauron’s shoulder.

Sauron looked up at him, unable to fully suppress tears. Somehow, deep within, he had feared that Aulë would be angry for what he had done, and would now be most unwilling to forgive him; Morgoth would have had him tortured just for saying that he was not what Morgoth said he was. He had forgotten that Aulë had not fallen to Darkness, as Morgoth had.

“Manaman nátye lá Aţâra? Why are you not Aţâra?” Aulë asked simply.

“Morgoth…antaneso me ilya vinya essi…Ar avaosánanye tana heranye maure tana esseo. Morgoth…gave us all new names…and I don’t think that I deserve that name,” Sauron answered in a whisper.

Aulë looked sympathetic. “Mana esse antanieso tyenna? What name did he give to you?”

Sauron closed his eyes and turned his head away, expecting Aulë to recoil in shock and fear. “Sauron,” he said. “Abominable,” He waited for the gasp, the whispered charms against evil, the rustle of fabric as signs against evil were made, the swift removal of the hand, as though touching him would stain the hands of the one who touched him with evil. But none of it happened. Instead, he felt a drop of wet hit his shoulder. He opened his eyes wide and turned his head back towards Aulë. His former Vala had tears in his eyes. “Arannya? Manaman nienatye? My Lord? Why do you weep?”

“Nienanye tyen. Vanwa manwietyan. I weep for you. For your lost innocence.”

There was a slight pause as Sauron considered the implications of this. Then, “Tírenietye ni. You have been watching me.”

“Tíreniemme tye. Manwë osánaneso tana tye…tana heranemme maure tíreta tye. Tyáranietye… We have been watching you. Manwë thought that you…that we had a need to watch you. You did…”

“O. Ah.”

“Ar heramme anna tyen, Aţâra. And we have a gift for you, Aţâra,” Eönwë said from his position in the doorway formed by the tent flap.

“Nánye lá Aţâra! I am not Aţâra!” Sauron said sharply. Then, in a softer voice, he said, “Morgoth estanieso ni Sauron. Morgoth named me Sauron.”

Eönwë’s sharply inhaled breath came as a hiss. But he calmed himself enough to ask: “Manaman nánenye ete masse túvaniemme? Why were you out where we found you?” He paused, pulling something out of his cloak. “Ar mana nás sina? And what is this?” he asked, holding out the lightstone that they had found him clutching.

“Nás ondo calo. Yuhtanente mí Thangorodrim ar Utumno ve calmar. It is a lightstone. They were used in Thangorodrim and Utumno as lamps.”

“Manaman nánes mí mátya? Why was it in your hand?”

“Túvanienyes. Yare heranyes mí mánya, hirtanies ni tana mo túluva autata. I found it. When I had it in my hand, it showed me that which will come to pass.”

“Ar mana cenanietye? And what did you see?” Aulë asked gently.

Sauron told them, in no uncertain terms, what Eru had shown him in the premonition. Eönwë looked dubious, and Aulë simply concerned. When Sauron finally finished, he said, “…ar avaosánalye tana quenanye sanda. …and ye don’t think that I speak true.”

“Lau. No,” Eönwë said simply.

“Nánietye mí caima andave… You have been in bed for a long time…” Aulë tried for a more consoling tone.

Sauron said nothing, but his face told them what he didn’t say: “Can’t say ‘I thought you would.’”

“Nán lávuvamme tye entúlata menen Valinorenna. Náhuvamme tye én. But we will allow you to return with us to Valinor. We will judge you there,” Eönwë told him.

“Ar úhlaruvalye ni sino, ar únáhuvalye sino. Téra? And ye will neither hear me nor judge me here. Correct?”

Aulë held his face in his hands. Sauron was as intuitive as ever. It was a bit annoying, as it meant that you really couldn’t give something a passing reference without him figuring it out. Fast. And he only seemed to have gotten faster at it.

“Lávuvatye me hlarata tye sino nán náhata tye mí Valinore? Will you allow us to hear you here but judge you in Valinor?” Eönwë asked sarcastically.

Sauron looked at Eönwë for a long, uncomfortable moment. Finally, after what seemed like days, he said, “Nuvanye. I will.”