Ah, Alice, we can't go home again. No surprise, really. Only a very few find the way; and most of them don't recognize it when they do. Delusions, too, die hard.

Alice: Madness returns

At last the Blue Mountains retreated behind; and it was midday when he entered an ancient dense forest. His warg required some rest.

The heat in the air was palpable and he found shelter in the shadow of an old willow.

He lay straight onto the ground and adjusted his mount's fur as a pillow, curling at its side. The beast fell asleep, exhausted after their endless ride. He did not though, lying with his eyes closed. While he was on the move, his head had not bothered him and he took it for a good sign. He took it as a sign of recovery, of a new hope.

Yet, during this stop the disparity of his restless mind declared itself again. A voice dared to appear yet once more. It was born from the clot of the thick dark that had taken roots deep inside his head - the remnant of the one, who had been sealed in the Void. It reminded him of his grievous past. It haunted him. It turned his thoughts intrusive. At first, he tried to silence it with the images of the new violent ocean he had witnessed beyond the mountain ridge. That magnificent manifestation of the power of the West drove it away; and the voice kept silent for quite a while. But then the voice resonated even through the depths. His mind began to talk to itself.

You are the voice of darkness.

i am a part of you

I'm free. You are no more forever.

you are in chains forever forever forever

Seeking for any kind of distraction he recalled his memories of the recent events, briefly passing through them again.

His betrayal of his dark Master.

The ruins of Angband. He would not deny himself the dark pleasure of walking among the debris, bidding farewell to his past.

And the army of the Valar, which he feared and in which he had seen his chance.

He closed his eyes.

I will not forgive myself if I do not try.

The camp of the West was quiet. Calm. They did not feast, did not celebrate their victory. Focused. Wary. Even grim. His lips curved slightly in a bitter smile. No one roamed across the field, no one approached him, no one stared at him. This bleak mass of... of souls seemed apathetic, not threatening. It lifted his spirits, even if slightly. As he walked through the encampment, his gaze fleeted casually from one tent to another. Avoiding the faces.

turn back

He ignored the voice.

A needle of a dark matter invaded his head, then another one, and another one, and another… until they became a hundred. They murmured something unintelligible. He forbade himself to listen.

Resist.

Thank Eru, soon enough he found the tent he sought. As he approached it, the needles amplified their assault. His mind itched. He entered and Eonwe was there, alone.

Alone.

Yet for some reason his gaze dropped to meet the ground; the Herald's expression escaped him. Looking at his former friend suddenly appeared as an impossible task. His eyes refused to look up.

"I am... surprised." Eonwe's voice pounded against his ears. A calm voice, unbearably calm, that hid a cage with an emotion behind. The cage he could see. Not the emotion. The cage remained locked to him. Inaccessible. This mocking uncertainty invoked rage. The needles welcomed it with throbbing.

Suppress. Talk. As planned.

"Eonwe, I plead for your forgiveness." He choked as he heard himself uttering these words. That was not what he had intended to say, not like this, not like begging. Not like…Not like.

not like

"I want to come back. Home." After his mouth managed to spit out the last word, his lips, his tongue, his vocal chords went numb, stricken by paresis. A part of him rejoiced. A part of him despaired.

"If I had the authority to decide upon your fate, I might have considered the possibility of forgiving you your crimes. Sauron." said the Herald after a short pause.

Too complicated. Cannot concentrate.

Did his voice soften at the last word?

Does he hate me?

Did he miss me?

"But I do not have the right for such decisions. You are to appear before the Valar trialjudgementdefineeeeeeeeeee

void void void void

Eonwe was still talking. Something. He could not tell if he could even hear anything. His thoughts turned into a maelstrom.

Eonwe is my friend doesn't care

Valar will forgive cast me into the void

This is the chance to save doom myself

A blazing prod poked through his head replacing the needles. In response his head pulsed in anguish. His own thoughts mingled with the voices creating chimeras, demanding, craving for his attention.

He could not distinguish between them. His hands constricted around his head trying to smash his skull. He bent double. The pain settled behind his eye.

Eonwe took a step towards him, extending his arm.

"Shut up!"

Eonwe froze, startled.

"I hate you, Eonwe," he said lovingly. He heard his own-alien voice as gentle and tender, smooth. As if someone else was talking. Bizarre. As these words were uttered, the torment retreated. The clot calmed down. So unexpected and violent was the relief, that it brought a surge of nausea with it.

He straightened. The cacophony ceased and he was grateful and afraid. Afraid that it would return and the dark would gnaw at him anew.

Perhaps I should leave. Perhaps I should have never come. Perhaps I was distracted.

Time stopped and he watched himself turning to the entrance. Leaving the tent. Leaving? Was he leaving?

Yet as he walked, some part of him expected, prayed for Eonwe to order him to halt. But it was only a dream and it did not happen.

"It had only been in a dream, perhaps a nightmare. Perhaps." he muttered to himself in reassurance, though he knew he had not slept. The sun had gone down, the heat was gone. The light gusts of wind drove off the stagnant air. At dusk he would resume his journey East. There, in the West they would forget about him. And he would amend what he had done, to earn his redemption, to be welcomed back. To see Lord Aule and Lady Yavanna again. And Eonwe. And to repair this... this cracked

shattered

mirror.

mind

He blinked. The gust might have brought pollen into his eye. When he got rid of it, the thought was gone. And what was it about? He did not know anymore. But he knew it was time to move on.

I will prove to them all, that I am not like.. not like...

him

Perhaps the elves may be of use. Perhaps they will serve my goal. Perhaps.