Disclaimer: I do not own any of the recognisable characters in this story, and make no money from them. This story is purely a work of fanfiction, and written for fun. All rights belong to the Tolkien Estate.
Missing scene. What exactly happened between Mairon and Námo in Mandos in the time it took Aulë to make the necklace?
Námo sat in silence next to the Maia, shielding his mind to enable him to get some much-needed rest. Once they arrived in Mandos, and had situated him in a temporary room, the Fëanturi had coaxed the Maia's consciousness back from wherever it had retreated to during the interrogation. Sauron had not been very coherent, even when he had surfaced, and had soon fallen asleep. The Fëanturi let him. Only Eru knew how much sleep he'd gotten during the last few Ages. Irmo had ensured he would not have nightmares, before leaving to deal with his own domain. In the aftermath of the War of Wrath, Lórien was rather busy. It was far busier than the Halls of Mandos.
Which was why the Lord of Mandos could sit, watching over the Maia while he slept. The poor creature would need to regain some of his strength before having to face all fourteen of the Valar again. Námo allowed himself a heavy sigh, thinking back on what they had learnt from examining the Maia's memories.
Sauron had been through hell at the hands of Morgoth. He had suffered atrocities no one should ever be subjected to, no matter who they were, or what they had done. How he was even still alive and functioning as well as he was, was a mystery to the Vala. The Maia's mind and soul must be very strong, to have weathered that kind of abuse without being destroyed. Námo knew healing it would not be an easy task.
In truth, he did not know if it even could be healed.
Thanks to his foresight, he knew what would happen after Sauron was collared and sentenced. Manwë had decided the Maia would remain in his care for the foreseeable future. His sensitivity to sunlight put Lórien out of the picture as a viable place for him to begin healing, which would normally be what happened.
Which was a tad unfortunate. His brother's domain would be the perfect place for Sauron's tortured soul to find rest and balm. However, it wouldn't work in this case, and no one else had the facilities to deal with the kind of damage Sauron had sustained. Not even Nienna was fully equipped to deal with this, thought she would doubtlessly play a large part in his healing.
All of which meant he was stuck in Mandos until further notice.
Not that Námo minded keeping Sauron here. His Halls would offer the Maia the best chance at healing. Possibly even more then Lórien would have, come to think about it. While Irmo dealt primarily with the fëar of those whom had an incarnate form, Námo himself was used to dealing with the broken and often traumatised fëar themselves that came through Mandos. There had been a lot of them over time. Still was, in fact. And, while Sauron wore an incarnate form, the Ainur were first and foremost spirits.
And this one was most definitely broken and traumatised. In fact, Námo had never seen a creature as damaged as the Maia was. That a good deal of it had been caused by someone who had once been a Valar, (and a brother to Manwë!) was even worse.
Námo knew they owed it to Sauron to try and fix what Morgoth had destroyed in him. Their Atar had created the Maia to help and serve them in their endeavours. In return, the Valar were supposed to love and care for them, and provide for them security and safety.
All of which they'd so far failed to do with this one.
The Vala of the Dead sighed again, looking at the Maia's sleeping features. He'd hoped Sauron would have been able to relax once he and Irmo had gotten him settled. However, that had not happened. Though he was resting, Sauron's body was still tense. He was curled as tight as possible, in one corner of the bed. His facial muscles were still tense – as they had been since Nienna had sought to comfort him at the Máhanaxar.
Námo wished he could let Sauron continue sleeping, but they had to be present at the trial in an hour. Which meant waking the slumbering Maia, and hopefully making him look more presentable. Even if all he could do was wash his face, and brush the knots out of the tangled copper hair.
Messy hair never made anyone feel very good.
That was something the elven fëar, especially, often struggled with when they first arrived in Mandos. Though a fëa did not technically have hair (or anything solid or discernible for that matter, being at their core a formless spirit), for some, the illusion of looking after their hair had helped them to heal.
The Vala in charge of the dead had learnt a lot about looking after a fëa since the first traumatised Child had arrived in his Halls.
Námo wasn't sure he could do much else to help the Maia look better. The tangled hair framed a thin, heavily-lined (and extremely dirty) face. Sauron's cheeks and eyes were sunken, and the dark smudges under his eyes looked more like bruises than anything else. Námo suspected they were bruises. The still-visible handprint on his cheek, which Námo knew had been left there by Morgoth, only made him look worse.
The Doomsman could also see scars on the exposed skin (especially around his neck; though Námo was aware most of those had been put there by Huan) and suspected the Maia's clothing was hiding even more. Even in peaceful slumber, his features contorted in pain, as he curled into himself. His arms were hugged tightly to his chest; his body angled into his hands, as he made himself as small as possible.
Námo gave another long sigh, dropping his head into his hands.
They had spectacularly failed in their job to look after and love this child. But there was time to fix that – if fix it they could. Still, it was no good just thinking about all the steps they had to take in the process. It was time to act on that knowledge. And, the first step was to get Sauron up and moving, so they could put this whole unfortunate trial behind them.
"Little One. Time to wake up."
Námo placed his hand on Sauron's brow, hoping to gently ease him back to the waking world. The last thing the Vala wanted was for him to panic while still half asleep.
Even though it was a very possible outcome.
The Maia stirred at his light touch, though it was a while before he was aware enough to open his eyes. Námo withdrew his hand, waiting until Sauron was blinking at the unfamiliar ceiling in half-coherent confusion, to speak.
"You're okay."
Námo kept his voice soft and gentle, hoping to prevent a scene. But, he was not surprised when the mere sound of his voice caused the Maia to jump a foot into the air. Sauron shied violently away from him, all but throwing his body as far from the Vala as he could. Still half out of it, and not being familiar with his surroundings, this action resulted in him falling off the side of the bed. A pained yelp escaped him, before he curled up in as small a ball as his thin frame would allow. He lay there, arms covering his head, body trembling.
"Don't hurt me! I'll… I'll do whatever you want. Just please, leave me be! I beg of you!"
Pity filled the Vala's heart at the Maia's panicked and fearful reaction to his mere presence.
"Peace, Little One." He stated softly, stepping back to give the Maia further space. "I am not going to hurt you. You are safe here. Everything will be okay."
Námo allowed a little more of his soothing energy to encompass Sauron, and patiently waited. Eventually, when nothing bad happened to him, the Maia calmed down enough to uncurl, and look up at the Vala. While Námo was still giving him plenty of space, he had moved, so they were now on the same side of the bed.
While it was clear the Maia was still terrified, there was also a spark of curiosity in those dull golden orbs. But, it was soon smothered by the resignation and hopelessness that filled Sauron. The Maia dropped his gaze, hunching in on himself more then what the Vala would have thought possible.
"Am I your prisoner?"
Námo regarded him with a steady look.
"Not officially. Right now, I am just looking after you. This is a temporary situation; until you are formally sentenced."
Sauron gave a nervous swallow.
"What is taking you so long?"
Námo raised an eyebrow.
"Several things. Namely, we want you to be coherent for it. We also have a few arrangements to make beforehand, regarding the restrictions you will be placed under."
Sauron sat up a bit straighter, frowning.
"You're… you're not throwing me to the Void?"
"No. We came to a unanimous decision you do not deserve that fate."
The Maia's genuine confusion was palpable.
"Why? After all the crimes I have committed, all the evil I've done…"
His voice trailed off. It was clear he was unable to comprehend why he didn't deserve the Void. Was unable to comprehend why anyone else would even entertain the thought that he didn't deserve to be punished like that.
The sight of one whom his own nature demanded he protect look so lost and unsure, brought a sharp pang to Námo's chest.
By this stage, Sauron was sitting up; his back resting against the side of the bed. His knees were still hugged to his chest, as he tried to make himself as small and non-threatening as possible. He was also eyeing Námo like he expected the Vala to pounce on him at any moment, and drag him off to the Void.
Despite what he'd just been told.
Námo silently sighed.
"And what about the crimes committed against you? Crimes that compelled you to do much of that evil? Did you even have the option of saying 'no' to any of it?" Sauron dropped his head as the Vala continued, utter conviction in his voice. "It is a no-win situation, no matter what way you look at it. We cannot be sure anything you have done since then was voluntary, or by choice. Therefore, we have decided to show mercy and pity."
"I don't deserve pity, or mercy. Not after all I've done."
"Given the way Morgoth corrupted your mind and soul by force, we'll be the judge of that."
Sauron was silent for a long moment, mulling that over. Námo, feeling his turbulent thoughts surge against the shields (though he could not read nor understand them), waited patiently for the Maia to organise his mind into some semblance of order. He knew the moment Sauron realised his own mental shields were gone, because confusion overtook his features, rapidly followed by a look of unbridled terror.
"My-my mental shields are gone, yet my m-mind is not un-unguarded…"
Sauron looked at Námo, not showing any of the terror the Vala had just seen. Though Námo could see the panic bubbling just beneath the surface. Sauron was doing an excellent job of keeping it contained. Even though he was clearly terrified. While there was a spark of hope in his gaze, it was balanced by a sense of distrust, betrayal, and unease that flickered across the mental shields Námo had erected. The Maia's emotions and thoughts were in complete shambles.
"Are you doing something? But I c-can't feel you in my head…"
Námo swiftly stopped that panicked train-of-thought.
"I am shielding your thoughts, little one. But do not worry. I am not in your mind. My power is simply ensuring you remain stable, and that nothing can enter your mind without permission. I give you my word, I myself will never enter without your permission. Not after what I saw there. If we had known beforehand what had been done, none of us would have entered. Not even Manwë. Why did you not just tell us, Little One?"
The Maia relaxed a small amount at Námo's explanation. However, at the Vala's gentle questioning, he dropped his gaze. It was a while before he replied, and his voice was very soft.
"I was scared."
Námo nodded calmly, even as he felt his heart bleed in anguish for all Sauron had suffered. For a Maia to be this terrified of them, made Námo feel he'd failed in the job he was sent here to do.
"That is understandable, after everything you've gone through. I am sorry for what we did. We truly did not know what had been done to you. But, it is good we now understand. That way, we knew how best to help you heal."
The Maia was silent for a while, mulling that over. When he spoke again, his voice was hesitant, and more than a little stilted.
"W-what exactly are you going to d-do with me, if you are n-not throwing me to the V-Void?"
Námo gave him a steady look.
"We are going to look after you, help you heal, and give you the chance to prove to us you genuinely want a second chance. You must know that, though we have all agreed to show mercy, no one trusts you. You will have to earn that, and show us you are sincere in the repentance you professed before Eönwë. I am curious why you ran from him, if you really do want a second chance? Why ever go to him in the first place, if all you were going to do was run?"
The Maia looked at the ground.
"You saw that memory. Of what Morgoth said to me, not long before the End."
"Yes, and you had very good reasons to fear us. You still do. But, that does not explain why you even went to Eönwë to begin with."
There was a wry note in the Maia's voice when he replied.
"I did not want to. Though I wanted a second chance, I was terrified of what would happen to me if it were denied. When I heard Eönwë had pardoned several of the First- and Second-Born who had been involved with Morgoth, I saw a possible way out. If I could convince Eönwë to forgive me, then I could go away, and start a new life." The Maia looked at Námo with unreadable eyes. "The knowledge that, by doing it, I would be rebelling against what Morgoth had wanted, also gave the idea a great deal of appeal."
Námo's expressed did not change.
"Rebellious to the end, I see."
Sauron sighed, dropping his head.
"For all the good it did me. Anyways, I came to Eönwë, only to have him tell me I would have to face you in a trial if I wanted forgiveness. Remembering what Morgoth had done and said, I…" He sighed, curling into himself more. "I panicked. I knew I wouldn't survive something like that again. So, I ran. It wasn't a conscious decision; and I really did want a second chance. I-I still do. But, I could not bear the thought of being hurt like that again. I knew it would destroy me."
Námo closed his eyes in pain, not that Sauron could see them.
"And then Lord Oromë found you, and brought you back here. Where all you feared most came true."
Not for the first time, the Guardian of the Dead felt himself curse Manwë's brother. Once again, he cursed their own inattentiveness that had caused heartache and grief to so many. Not the least of which was the Maia sitting before him. He wished it was in his power to reverse time – to fix the hurt before it ever came into existence.
Said Maia looked up at him.
"Yes, but not all of it has come true. You haven't destroyed me yet, nor thrown me to the Void. When Oromë bound me, I was sure it was the end. That-that my life was over."
The Maia sighed. It was clear his next words were addressed to himself.
"Of course, this could all be an elaborate trick. They could still be planning to throw me into the Void, after lulling me into a false sense of security. Morgoth was always very fond of that particular tactic. But, I-I really do want a chance to do the right thing for once."
The last sentence was spoken in a very soft voice, and was mostly muffled, as the Maia had dropped his face to his knees. His shoulders shook as he whispered the next words.
"I just want the pain and fear to stop."
While he did not feel emotions in the same way his sister did, Námo felt his spirit reach out for the battered and abused soul before him. The admission had struck a chord deep within him, and he longed to sooth the wound the words had sprung from.
"I know, Little One. And it will, if you let us help you. We want to help you, and our offer of mercy and redemption is no trick. In the same way you must earn our trust, we have to prove to you we are sincere in what we offer."
The Maia nodded, wearily rubbing a hand over his face.
"I am so tired. I can't remember the last time I slept more than a few hours without nightmares. What are you going to do with me, seeing you say you are not throwing me to the Void?"
He looked at Námo expectantly. The Vala looked him in the eye, counting it as a small win when the Maia did not look away.
"We have agreed your abilities, both your Maiarin ones, and the darker ones Morgoth gave you, will be bound. At least until we feel you are strong enough for us to attempt to remove his influence from your soul. Given the similar nature of both Valarin and Maiarin abilities, it is impossible to separate them, meaning you will lose access to both. I am sorry, but it is necessary."
The Maia sighed, dropping his chin to rest on his knees.
"I hate the ones he gave me, so that's okay. But, do you really have to bind everything?"
Námo blinked. He had not been expecting that reaction.
"Why do you hate them?"
Sauron looked at him.
"I hate how they make me feel, and what they make me do. While I am wielding them, it's fine. They make me feel safe, invincible; like no one can touch me. However, after I used them, I would remember what I did, and feel sick. Remember what I enjoyed doing! It was in those moments I realised I really was nothing more than Morgoth's willing little slave."
"You are not his slave anymore."
The Maia shook his head in disagreement.
"I am. So long as his power resides in me, I cannot escape his will." He swallowed hard, as if the admission pained him to make. Námo was sure that it did. He could not imagine having to serve someone in this way – to not have a choice whether he acted or not.
"He put too much of his own essence into me." Sauron continued. "Sooner or later, if left unchecked, it will encompass me. I was lying to myself in thinking I would ever be able to escape from it. In time, it will force me to do things I abhor. While I am in control of my own thoughts right now, it will continue twisting my mind even more than it already has. Until I have no will but to serve his. That was his intention when he bound my core to his will." Panic flooded Sauron's face as he said that. He glanced up at the Vala. "How are you going to bind me? I will not survive another invasion of my mind."
This last sentence was said very softly, with a tangible undercurrent of fear. Námo shook his head.
"I already told you; we will not touch your mind without your permission. The solution that was proposed, and we are adopting, is to make a collar that will render your powers useless. They will still be there; you just will be unable to access them."
The Maia gave a wry laugh that lacked any real humour.
"So, I'm to be collared like a dog. Appropriate. Morgoth always called me his little wolf."
"We are not like him."
Sauron looked away.
"Does this mean I will be bound in one form, and unable to separate my fëa from my fana?"
Námo nodded. This was the one part of the plan he personally wasn't keen on. It was unnatural for an Ainu to be bound in one incarnate form, but he saw no other solution.
"Yes. There is no other way."
Sauron sighed.
"Very well. Do I at least get a say in what form I am to be bound in?"
Námo blinked. Reaching out beyond the Halls, he established a mental link with a surprised Manwë. After a few moments, he looked back at Sauron.
"Yes, within reason. What form would you like to be bound in?"
The Maia blinked, stunned he was been given this small measure of control over his fate.
A fate that otherwise was out of his hands.
"A form similar to this one, but not exactly the same. I-I just don't think I am strong enough to shift on my own right now."
Now, that was something Námo could help with.
"If you would like, I can share some power so you can shift."
Sauron's face paled, and he shrunk back from the Valar. "I-I don't…"
Námo stopped him. "I will not enter your mind, nor touch you in any way. I will merely open myself up, so you may take what power you need to shift. That is all. You will be in control the whole time, but you do not have to do it if you do not want to."
Sauron was silent for a few minutes. He kept his gaze fixed on Námo's, as he worried his lower lip. The Vala, for his part, kept his mind open; allowing the Maia to feel his sincerity.
Finally, Sauron nodded. "I… I would like that. Thank you."
Námo wordlessly reached out with his power, and waited. Latching onto it with the desperation of someone who believed this was his last hope of staying alive, the Maia took a deep breath, before closing his eyes. The form he shifted to was indeed very similar to the previous one, albeit being marginally smaller with more delicate features. He also had a lot more freckles dusting his pale nose and cheeks, the Vala noted with wry amusement. It gave the Maia a rather cheeky look, though his eyes were devoid of any mischief.
Sauron also tried to hide the marks of his exhaustion as he shifted, but did not have the strength to do that. He'd only been able to shift because of Námo's help, and it had still succeeded in sapping him of the little energy he'd possessed.
Releasing his tenuous hold on the Vala, he slumped to one side, closing his eyes. Námo could both see and feel Sauron's relief at being in this form. Even though Morgoth had not restricted his ability to shapeshift, the Maia had obviously not worn this form for a while.
The Vala's thoughts were confirmed a moment later.
"That is better. I haven't worn this form in far too long. Though soon, I won't have a choice in the matter…"
Sauron looked at Námo, and swallowed. His voice was rough, but the sincerity in it was genuine.
"Thank you."
Námo inclined his head.
"You are welcome, Little One. Our aim is not to torment you by doing this; but to help you heal, and earn your redemption. This collar will do more than bind your powers. It will also shield your mind, like I am doing. We want to help you, Sauron."
The Maia winced.
"I hate that name. I hate myself, and what I've become. I hate Sauron. He-he was a creation of Morgoth's. Another dark soul to do his evil will."
Námo looked thoughtful.
"In that case, what would you like to be called?"
The swiftness with which the Maia answered surprised Námo, given how slow and stilted the rest of their conversation had been.
"Mairon." A small smile ghosted on his lips for a minute, before disappearing. "I always liked that name, though no one has called me by it for years. That was one of the first things Melkor removed from me. Not that he ever called me Sauron. He didn't think I deserved any name, only degrading terms. But, I always liked Mairon. And seeing it is his form I am wearing…I wouldn't mind having his name again as well. For all that he was a failure."
Námo gave an internal wince so Mairon would not see it. The complete lack of self-esteem and self-worth this Maia had was almost frightening in its intensity. He completely believed he was not worth anything to anyone.
It was a belief which actually frightened the Doomsman. Not that he was about to admit that to anyone.
Except maybe Vairë. They had never kept their feelings secret from each other.
"You are not a failure, Mairon. You just made some ill-advised decisions that ended badly. Everyone makes mistakes; yours were just worse then some."
Mairon massaged his forehead.
"Melkor delighted in reminding me how useless I was whenever he could. How I only had value because of what he had done to me. How, without him, I was less than nothing."
Námo's outward expression did not change.
"I take a very dim view of anything he said. He was a master at manipulating and lying. Even to himself."
Mairon looked up.
"That's right." He said, understanding flooding his eyes. "He deceived you once. I wish you'd just kept him locked up here. Those years without him were some of the happiest I can remember. Though I was still bound to do his will, with him not being there to enforce it, I was more-or-less under my own control. Or at least, I could pretend I was. Which was nice. When he came back, it was even worse than it had been before."
Curse their stupidity, and Manwë's goodwill.
"That part of your life is over now." Námo reassured the Maia. "While you will be making amends for all the harm you've caused once you're stronger, your past does not have to define what your future will be. You are in control of your destiny now. We will not take that privilege away from you. We are giving you a second chance, and will help you every step of the way. However, it is up to you how you decided to use it."
The Maia said nothing in response. Dropping his head to his knees, he idly traced random patterns on the floor with one finger, mulling over their conversation. Realising it was now significantly less than an hour before Mairon's trial was due to resume, Námo checked in with Manwë, before turning back to the seated Maia.
"We have a little time before we are due in the Máhanaxar, so let's make you more presentable, Little One. Your hair does not look like it's been brushed in weeks. Even with you changing forms."
The Maia ducked his head. Whether in embarrassment or shame, the Vala could not tell.
"It hasn't. I haven't had access to a comb since before the defeat."
"I am sure Oromë would not have objected to you been given one. If you had just asked."
Mairon shrugged, refusing to meet Námo's gentle gaze, or answer him verbally. It was clear he had less than zero trust in the Valar, which was most likely the reason he hadn't said a word since been captured. He had truly believed himself beyond redemption, and doomed for the Void, where he would forever be Morgoth's slave.
Knowing what he knew now, the Lord of Mandos realised Oromë's report on the odd events surrounding the capture suddenly made a lot of sense.
"That is in the past now. Let's find you a comb, Mairon. There should be one around here somewhere."
You can't convince me that Námo, while having a reputation for being grim and unfeeling, is not in actuality simply a sterner and less emotional (openly emotional) version of Nienna. That is my headcannon anyway, and I am sticking to it.
Update on notes from last chapter: The Plot Bunnies have revealed their plans for explosions in Valinor, and I am now on board with it. It's going to be brilliant! Though, I'm not entirely sold on the elves being involved…
The Sequel is shaping up to be very interesting. And long. 19 chapters, and we are only about two-thirds of the way through what I want to cover.
Anyways, what do you think of this chapter?
