Disclaimer: Based on the Silmarillion and Lord of the Rings by JRR Tolkien. I am not Tolkien. I am doing this purely for fun, and make no money doing so.

This chapter's existence can be blamed on a conversation between Uvatha the Horseman and I about putting characters in bizarre situations just to see what they'd do, and about what Gil-galad and Sauron might say to each other.

Gil-galad came to awareness slowly. The first thing he noticed was that he was lying on a hard surface. The surface was grey, smooth, and featureless, as well as being hard and cool as stone. He opened his eyes, without making any further movement.

The room he lay in was much the same - grey and featureless, without any furnishings or other signs of use. There was a feeling of present evil to it, causing Gil-galad to wish fervently that he had a weapon with him. Gil-galad wondered exactly where he was. He didn't recognize it as being anywhere in Mithlond, and he'd never been given to sleepwalking. He was still in his nightshirt, for crying out loud! He sat up.

"I see you are awake now," said a clear voice behind him in Adunaic. Gil-galad whipped his head around, to find himself looking into a pair of cat-slitted golden eyes in a handsome mortal-like face.

"Sauron!" Gil-galad whispered, jumping to his feet and wheeling around to face his foe in a fighting stance. "What have you done?"

"Nothing," said Sauron. "I was hoping you could tell me where we are, and how to get out."

Gil-galad stared at him. Sauron was wearing a pair of drawstring pants and a loose shirt open at the neck. He was barefoot, and bore no weapon Gil-galad could see. Gil-galad also realized that one of the things he hadn't seen while looking around was a door or a window. He was locked in a room with Sauron the deceiver.

"but I see you're just as confused as I," Sauron continued. "A pity."

They stood there and looked at each other. The whole situation made no sense, and Gil-galad found himself with no idea what to do next. He'd love to kill the vile monster in front of him, but Sauron outweighed him by a large amount. If it turned into a wrestling match, he would be the one who would die.

Sauron was staring at him with an expressionless face. Gil-galad stared back. Some indeterminate time later, Sauron broke eye contact. "This is pointless," he said.

"Truly," said Gil-galad. "But it isn't as if there is much else to do."

"You have one of the elven rings, don't you?" said Sauron.

Gil-galad shrugged. "I'm not going to tell you either way, now am I? Why are you so determined to conquer the world?"

"Because it's there," said Sauron. "And it's untidy."

Gil-galad raised his eyebrows. "You could always stick to keeping Mordor tidy. There's more than enough work in running a kingdom without trying to expand it into an empire. Less risky, too."

"I am a maia. I have time."

"Take up a hobby! Singing, playing soulle, forging ornamental ironwork, building improbably high towers. I'm sure you can find something with which to fill your hours, and we'd ALL be the happier for it."

"Your happiness has never been my priority."

"I'd noticed." They glared at each other.

"Why do you persist in resisting the inevitable?" said Sauron. "Just acknowledge me as your overlord, and I'll leave you in place. Your people won't have to experience the horrors of conquest. I already rule Numenor in all but name, as well as most of the East and South."

"No."

Sauron sighed.

"You didn't seriously think I'd agree to that, after all you have put my people through?" said Gil-galad.

"No, but I wanted to see what you'd do."

Gil-galad rolled his eyes.

Sauron smiled back. "You do realize that for all that we have been enemies for thousands of years, we have scarcely met in all that time? You don't even know who you're hating."

"I hate the person who had my great-uncle killed, who drove my father nigh unto madness, who tortured and murdered Celebrimbor, and who has killed far too many of my people over the centuries. Do you honestly believe that a few lies and a sweet smile can paper that over?"

"It worked with Pharazon."

"I'm not Pharazon."

"Indeed, you are not. More's the pity," said Sauron, his lip curling. "You could have been so useful to me, if you weren't so bloody stubborn."

"You could have done much good, if you had not turned to evil. Why did you do it?"

"The world was untidy, and I wanted to help Melkor reorganize it. I was bored under Aule, and Melkor promised me power." Sauron grinned. "I got it, too, more than any other maia in Ea."

"Power's a pain in the neck half the time," said Gil-galad. "It means being the one responsible for fixing any mess that happens, whether or not that is actually possible, and being blamed if you fail. And then fools who don't understand the price may try to take it away from you."

"I'd happily lift that burden from you if you're sick of it," said Sauron, smirking.

"Thanks, but no thanks," said Gil-galad. "Why do you love power so much? You've held it long enough to understand what a cursed bauble it can be."

Sauron shrugged. "Perhaps the difference is that you care about each one of your people, and you want them to be happy. You want to be loved. I don't care if they hate me so long as they do what I tell them. It's a much easier path."

"Is it really? Assassinations, coups, inability to trust any around you, constantly afraid to ever show any sign of weakness, the knowledge that people tell you whatever they think you want to hear, having to kill those you called friend – up until you betrayed them..."

"Perhaps you couldn't live like that, but for me it is all part of the game. Keeps me on my toes. And I have no friends, only tools." Sauron snorted.

Gil-galad shook his head. "Eru help me, but I pity you."

Sauron flushed with rage, and then suddenly laughed. It was a harsh, ugly sound at odds with his voice. "I pity you. Once I have finished with Numenor, I will take your people and shatter them like a flawed sword. All your proud and noble sentiments will come to an end then, when I have you at my mercy, for I will have none. You will yearn for death, but not find it. My thrall and my toy you shall be. All who see you will shudder in horror at your fate.

"You really don't like being pitied, do you?" said Gil-galad.

Sauron lunged at Gil-galad.

Gil-galad dodged sideways, but not quite far enough. Sauron's hand grabbed the sleeve of his nightshirt in a grip of iron. Gil-galad spun, lashing out with his foot. He felt it impact, and heard his nightshirt rip.

Then everything disappeared in fire. Fire in the sky, his hands, his throat, and he could not breathe. He struggled but was blacking out…

Gil-galad sat upright, gasping for breath and glancing wildly around him. It was his own bedchamber, with the familiar hangings, the window open a tad to catch the breeze from the sea. A dream, it was only a dream. Thank Eru for that!

Gil-galad got up to go and look out the window, but suddenly noticed that he was naked. He had been wearing a nightshirt when he'd gone to bed that night. Gil-galad shivered, and the nightmare took on a darker aspect. In some respects at least, it had been real.

Meanwhile, in the palace at Armenelos, Sauron awoke with a hiss of pain and the feeling the wind had been knocked out of him. He pressed his hand to his shoulder as he stared up at the ceiling. His breathing calmed as he realized where he was, and that the pain in his shoulder and arm had vanished. Just a dream, but what a strange one.

Sauron felt something in his hand, and sat up to look at it. It was a torn nightgown of fine linen, with an emblem of white stars on a blue field embroidered at the throat and cuffs. Sauron frowned at it. It looked just like the one Gil-galad had been wearing in the dream. And for that matter, there was a dull pain in his stomach where Gil-galad had kicked him.

Granted that Maiar minds tended to overwrite their bodies, but this was ridiculous. He went to drop the torn fabric, then sniffed it instead. It smelt faintly of elf. Sauron hurled it across the room, though it fluttered to a halt somewhat shy of the far wall. Ridiculous. He turned over and went back to sleep.

But when he got up in the morning, the offending item was still there.