Dark Star Chapter Three: The Hearing

Chapter Three: The Hearing

“Sauron, yá Maia Auleo, sí Maia Morgoth, quenatye tana méretye nyárata me qua, ar sina nát nás tára erma. Mana méretye nyárata me? Sauron, formerly a Maia of Aule, now a Maia of Morgoth, you say that you want to tell us something, and this thing is a high matter. What do you want to tell us?” Manwë asked later on that day, as Sauron had insisted that he was well, and did not wish to delay his hearing.

“Arani ar Hérir Valaron, tana mo mérinye quenata nás metto Ardo. Lords and Ladies of the Valar, that which I wish to say is of the end of Arda,” Sauron answered simply. He had gotten used to the fashion of oratory used in Thangorodrim: lots of sucking up to one’s audience (usually Morgoth) and getting to the point very quickly without much embellishment. Unfortunately, this style was vastly different from the style used in Valinor, which involved the use of many and varied rhetorical devices and in which speeches that were two hours long could almost always be condensed into one to five short, simple sentences. Fortunately, Sauron was blissfully unaware of this, and of the fact that his style of oratory would not go over as well as he hoped.

Unfortunately, Aulë wasn’t blissfully unaware of either of these things. He had had his fingers crossed that Sauron would indeed remember the “subtle” differences between the forms, but his hope had been dashed with that simple sentence. He sighed, uncrossed his fingers, and sat back in his chair, prepared for the worst.

Manwë blinked slowly, then asked Sauron to continue. He did, and after a full thirty minutes (considered in Thangorodrim to be excessively long; in Valinor the shortest speech anyone had ever heard, and which would have taken a little bit over three-quarters of a day in the proper Valinorean style), Sauron told the Council of the Valar what he had seen, what he thought it meant for the Valar and for the populace in general, and that the Valar were the best people on the face of the planet.

Manwë exchanged glances with several members of the Council. They all considered what they had just heard the worst speech they’d ever heard. Most of them had not been too keen on hearing Sauron right then, and even if he’d given them the best speech they’d ever heard, they still wouldn’t have believed him. They really didn’t believe him when he said that Morgoth would (eventually) return and kill/destroy everything. Not even Aulë believed him: it sounded just as ridiculous the second time as it had the first, if not more so for being in a speech filled with much sucking up. Aulë, however, was one of the three who felt sorry for him: the other two were Varda and Námo.

Sauron didn’t miss the glances. Nor did he miss what they meant: no one here believed him. He was quite certain of that. He was also certain that his sentence would in all likelihood be one of long servitude in proof that he really did want to come back to the light…and he wouldn’t put it past Manwë to make that servitude eternal. “It’s not like I’m afraid of such a thing…it’s just that…it would…interfere with the mission Eru gave me. Yeah,” he thought to himself, rationalizing to himself why he didn’t want to be a servant for the vast bulk of eternity. He was slightly afraid of it though: Morgoth had taken advantage of him on several occasions, and if he had refused, it had happened anyway, and had only been that much worse. And while he had been extremely powerful under Morgoth, he did not want that power. He had never wanted it.

“Sauron, entúluvatye menen Valinorenna, ar én náhuvatye, ve quenanelme… Sauron, you will return with us to Valinor, and there, you will be judged, as we said…” Manwë was saying. Sauron quit listening after that. He knew what would happen, had known it all along. “Well…I tried…” he thought.

“…ar maruvatye Aulenen, yá Valatya, nán heruvatye quanta namna yare rahtalme Valinore… …and you will live with Aulë, formerly your Vala, but you will have full judgement when we reach Valinor…”

Sauron let his thoughts wander. What was he going to do now? He couldn’t go back to Valinor; that much was certain. He couldn’t stay in the West either. Morgoth had sent him to the East once…ostensibly to recruit more Men to his cause, but the both of them had known it was because he was angry with him. Sauron had wandered further afield than Morgoth had wanted, and found a lovely country full of Men who had not answered the first call of Morgoth, but they had also abandoned Eru, who had spoken to them soon after they had awoken in Hildorien…there were so many mountains there, it would be possible to hide there for as long as he liked…and it would be nigh impossible for anyone to track him there, if they even followed him.

“…heralme hanie? …Do we have an understanding?” Manwë asked. Sauron nodded absently. He’d leave tonight. No one would miss him. Besides, the two remaining brothers Fëanor were likely to try for the two remaining Silmarils tonight, seeing as how they were in the encampment and all. They’d never failed to do that in the past…

“Ar lávuvalme tye círata sina carde ar entúlata Cardenna Elessanoron. And we will allow you to leave this house and return to the House of the Healers.”

Sauron nodded again, then he bowed. He needed to go back there anyway…his pack was in there, along with his lightstone. He’d need most of that stuff at one point or another during his journey. He backed out a few paces, until he could turn his back on them without offence.

The Valar themselves remained silent for a few moments, gathering their thoughts. (Not a particularly convincing argument.) Manwë thought at the general assembly.

(His concern was real, and there were several good points in his argument…) Aulë thought back at him.

(The style. Was completely wrong.)

(My dear, if that’s your only argument against him, then—) Varda started.

(No, it isn’t. It actually has no effect on my position. It does irritate me somewhat, but that is to be understood.)

(Is it?) Tulkas, who had been silent throughout the hearing, chimed in. (Aþâra—Sauron—has been in Thangorodrim for a very long time. It is no wonder that he has learned stuff there. Besides, if we hold his argument to be true—not that I think it is, mind—but if we do pretend to believe him, we have an excuse to thoroughly injure him some more.)

(You mean, you have an excuse to beat him up some more.) Nessa chided him gently.

Tulkas was silent for a few brief moments. (Ye may help if ye wish…)

(Right. But…Morgoth…destroying the world? That’s just not going to happen.) Manwë cut off Tulkas’ line of thought before it could go any further. (From whence did he say this so-called vision of his came from, again?)

Aulë sighed. He already knew where this was going. (From Eru,) he answered.

(And…how often does Eru talk with…well, anyone?)

(Almost never.) Vairë answered. (But occasionally, when there is great need. For example, when Aulë created the Dwarves.)

Aulë went red in the face and looked down. He hadn’t yet heard the end of that one, though everyone had been kind enough not to mention it in front of any Elves. So far. (Could we get off that topic, please?) he asked rather plaintively.

Yavanna grinned at him. (Absolutely not. That’s the other reason we’re here. You know that,) she told him.

(Aul&#;s right. We’re not here to grill him about the Dwarves again. We’re here to judge Sauron’s defense, or lack thereof. It’s probably just something he came up with to try and cover why he wasn’t anywhere near Morgoth when we captured him, and to cover himself from the worst of what he knows is going to happen: we all know the crimes that he has committed. He knows that he’s going to be punished for his past actions.)

(Well, yes, but that doesn’t explain why he was found unconscious. Or why he had that rock that looked so similar to a Silmaril.)

(Then let me explain it to you, Aulë. He was probably knocked over the head by a falling or thrown rock, which is why we found him unconscious. The rock he had he probably intended to pass off as a Silmaril so his punishment would not be quite as severe.)

Aulë thought about that. It certainly made more sense than Sauron’s vision story, which was rather incredible, anyway…how many times had Eru spoken to any of the Valar, or even the Maiar, since they had entered the world? Yet here was Sauron claiming that Eru gave him these visions, and that he’d had about a dozen of them previously to the one he’d had just now. And how could Morgoth destroy the world so thoroughly? He no longer had that kind of power. In fact, he’d never had that kind of power. Sauron was a compulsive liar, too. He’d always been sorry about it after the fact, but he’d never been above lying to get out of or avoid trouble. (That makes sense,) he told Manwë.

(So…what should be done with him once we return to Valinor?) Irmo asked then. (He should go to Mandos, at least for a time. But after that?)

(He will need to work, to ‘earn his keep’ as I heard one of the Edain say.) Manwë thought, half to himself.

(He will serve various of the Valar, doing anything they desire of him, in proof of his good faith.) Yavanna said.

(For how long?) Manwë asked her.

(I think…he should serve each of the Valar for seven ages each, after spending seven ages in Mandos to meditate on his evil deeds.)

(Then it is settled. That is what will be done with him.)

Then Námo stood up to speak. “Heralme atta lúmi tare, ar apa tana namárie. We have twice more, and then farewell,” he said in the voice of doom. Then he turned and left. The rest of the Valar soon followed his lead.

Shortly before nightfall, Varda went to visit Sauron. She talked with him briefly, and for all that he tried to hide it, she knew that he was going to leave, possibly tonight. It was in his eyes, in the slightly apprehensive way he held himself when he spoke to her, in his gestures and words, though he never said it or even hinted at it. She could also tell that he’d been very lonely for a very long time, and during his time under Morgoth, something terrible had happened to him: the first she could tell by the darkness in his eyes; the second by the sheer absence of laughter and joy in his voice. She never said a word, but she vowed inwardly to do something to help him, to make him happy again. Aþâra may have been a compulsive liar, but his stories had always been guaranteed to make someone laugh, and the jokes and tricks he’d played may have been highly embarrassing to the butt of the joke, but once one thought about them, even the butt of the joke laughed. Aþâra’s voice had always had a ripple of mirth just under its tone, ready to burst forth at any moment. Sauron’s did not…and that had to mean that Morgoth had taken it from him, somehow, someway…

“My lady…don’t worry about me,” he’d told her as she was leaving him. “There’s nothing you can do for me.” There’s nothing you can do for me. Why did that stick in her head? He wasn’t beyond help. There were many things that could be done for him. There’s nothing you can do for me. He could come back to the light, given time and patience. And a generous dose of understanding. There’s nothing you can do for me. Right now, what he needed was someone who could give him time, patience, and understanding. That ruled out everybody except for her own Maiar. But he also needed someone who would give him those things…someone who had fallen herself, but had managed to find her way back, someone who’d watched and admired him from afar while he’d been mooning after Arien…Elen Elwe. She’d fallen in love with him long ago. Even while he was enthralled to Morgoth, she’d loved him. She’d even tried to get Manwë to let her go back to search for him after they’d captured Morgoth the first time. She’d been gently refused, for Manwë had been afraid that the evil influence that still lingered in the ruins would cause her to turn back to the darkness. But everyone had known that that was a thin excuse not to let her have Sauron: Eönwë loved her too, and Manwë felt that that was a much better match for her. She did not return his love. When the Noldor had fled, she had tried to quietly slip away, but she’d been missed too quickly, and Eönwë had been sent to sneak her out of the Noldor encampment, and to bring her back to Valinor. Varda was certain that if she couldn’t bring Sauron back, no one could.

“Elen!” she called out as soon as she entered the tent.

She came, as quietly as the stars fading from the sky. “Hérinya? My Lady?” she asked, her voice soft as the night, but also as bright as the sun at high noon.

“Elen, mérinye tye termáreta mí Endóre yare círamme. Elen, I want you to stay in Middle-Earth when we leave.”

“Nán manaman? But why?”

“Aþâra—Sauron—útúluvaso ata menen Valinorenna. Nán osánanye tana heraso maure entúlata. Mérinye tye termáreta ar túcata so ata son náta elessanie. Aþâra—Sauron—will not come back with us to Valinor. But I think that he needs to return. I want you to stay and bring him back for him to be healed.”

Elen nodded, her expressive silver-gold eyes shining with the joy that she was finally allowed to seek out her beloved. “Nán Elen…heruvatye maure vinya esseo. Essetya nuvas varna lau tare. But Elen…you will need a new name. Your name will be safe no more,” Varda told her.

Elen nodded again, her joy dimmed, but only the slightest bit. “Nánye Rille Elen, hérinya. I am Rille Elen, my lady,” she said clearly.

Varda and Elen walked together to the very edge of the camp, where the last tents of the Elves merged into the trees. Both were dressed in cloaks of dark green, spelled so that none but a Vala would sense their passing. They halted at the very edge of the forest, Elen turning back for a last, brief look at the camp. Then she turned back to Varda, bowing her head. Varda laid her left hand on Elen’s heart and her right on the side of her head, dissolving the bonds that bound the two of them together as Maia and Vala.

Varda said, speaking the language of the Valar just this once.

Elen answered, speaking the same language. Then she bowed to her former mistress and vanished into the trees.

Varda stared at the spot where she disappeared for a long time.