Hello, Everyone! This is my story about a Mary-Sue, who falls for Sauron. I've never written a Mary-Sue before, and this will probably be the only one I write.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, everything belongs to Tolkien Estates, and this is not, I repeat, not, me in this story.

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Sauron, Lord of Middle Earth, was slouched on his throne, thinking of the only thing he ever thought about anymore. He didn't care of anything, he just wanted it back. His master, Melkor, had been banished Ages ago, and Sauron seemed not to even remember him. The only thing on his mind was the Ring. That tiny little piece of him that left a hole in what little soul he had left. He was so consumed in thought he didn't hear the footsteps coming up to the door to the throne room.

The page entered, timid in the approach to his often volatile Lord. He'd heard of an orc who entered during one of the Lord's moods, whose head had been proudly displayed outside the door. When Sauron didn't look up, he thought of leaving, but he knew the Dark Lord would know he was there. He spoke up, squeaky in his fright.

"M-my Lord?"

Sauron, startled for the first time in millennia, looked up at the cowering orc before him. Wanting desperately to get back to his thoughts, he thought of dispatching it, but realized the orc wouldn't have bothered him without just reason.

"What do you want? Speak!"

"A message has arrived for you, Lord." Wait a minute. I communicate with no one but that Istar. Why would he not send me a message on the Palantir?

"Well... what is it?" The timid orc was starting to get on his nerves. It seemed that everyone annoyed him, more so than before. They didn't understand, didn't know what it was like to have part of your already diminished soul taken from you. It had been three thousand years, and It was coming back. It had heard his call, and was growing closer everyday; he could feel it.

"My lord?" Snapped out of his reverie, Sauron looked at the messenger, who looked back at him with frightened confusion.

"What?"

"A traveler has arrived, asking for shelter. She claims to have come from far off lands to aid and serve you."

A traveler? She? Who...? "Send her in." The orcling scurried off to retrieve the woman. Strange though it felt to have his thought diverted, it was relieving. Minutes later, when the messenger again entered the room, Sauron looked up, still not having a thought of the Ring.

"My Lord, the Lady..." The orc looked at the woman, a look of astonishment of his face, "the Lady Morialcaretáringolewen" (A/N this means: dark-glory-lofty-magic-maiden.) He struggled with the name, his tongue not used to the sounds of Elvish, but more suited to the harsh, guttural sounds of Black Speech.

From the shadows stepped a tall, lithe figure, hooded in a black cloak. Pale hands lifted up, lowering the hood. For the first time in, well ever, Sauron was left speechless.

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I really don't know where I'm going with this. I have the next chapter thought out, but after that, just the basics. You like, tell me. Don't like, tell me. Got a good idea, tell me, I might use it.

Until next chapter!