Chapter 8: Downfall
The once white city of Gondolin was blackened with ash and scarred by fires. Bodies of the dead fallen in battle were strewn in the streets and fountains and piled in great heaps. Still Morgoth's armies rushed on. Sauron stood upon a peak of the Encircling Mountains and gazed down upon the long hidden city. Suddenly he laughed, and the horrible cold echoing sound reverberated through the valley. It was borne back on the wind to Thangorodrim, where Morgoth smiled viciously as he beheld from afar the dark smoke rising into the clouded sky.
His loyal lieutenant returned in victory to Angband and entered the gates. Up he came to bow before His Lord. Morgoth bade him to stand and took his hands in his large blackened palms, for he could both use and love Sauron.
"Throughout all the Ages of this World I have not been so pleased," Morgoth murmured darkly as he held Sauron's hands. "Truly admirable thou art, Lord Mairon."
Then, letting go of the Maia's hands, he caressed the sides of his face and pushed back the dark hair as he looked into his eyes. The long moment ended, and he pressed his mouth to Sauron's forehead softly, affectionately, as Sauron had seen him pet Draugluin and Carcharoth. The Maia placed his hands against His Lord's breastplate with the dull sound of his rings against the metal, and they remained in the same position for what was to Sauron like a time of ceaseless ecstasy.
At last Sauron bowed his head against Morgoth's armor and was silent. The Dark Lord rested his hand in his lieutenant's hair as a smile curved his lips.
In the darkness of Morgoth's chambers Sauron woke, for ever since His Lord's command he had returned to the Vala's bed which was now his own. He felt rather than saw that His Lord was not present, but outside the doors he heard the heavy footfall.
"I see thee have awoken," Morgoth spoke as he entered, and his evil, scarred face was twisted with a smile.
"Aye, My Lord," Sauron replied, his eyes glittering. He lay back on the bed as the Dark Lord came to sit beside him.
"To think thou once were in the service of our Enemy," Morgoth whispered as he looked down upon his most devoted servant. In the depths of Sauron's fiery eyes he could see the questions that too plagued his mind: in the vast realm of Arda, what would their fate be in the end of time, would the Enemy overcome their might and bring all of their designs to naught, and worst, would ever Ilúvatar return with horrible Music to his creation—Morgoth, for his power, could not see the end, but he knew that the seeds of his malice were already sewn in Middle-earth beyond the undoing of even the Maker.
"I shall serve thee, as thou said in the beginning when thou came to me in Almaren, even if it means a return to the Outer Darkness," Sauron murmured.
"Thy words are needless, for I already know thy devotion," Morgoth said, "and thy love." And he pressed a burning kiss to Sauron's mouth with the ferocity of his hatred for the Valar with the force of which now he placed his need in Sauron. Dragging the Maia to his feet he slammed him against the stone wall of the chamber with affection not opposing his violence. "Come, there are many tasks that await us, for our Enemy will not linger." Again he pressed a kiss to Sauron's lips, gently, heavily. "And as always I have need of thy services."
Sauron robed himself and followed the dark towering form of the Vala. "What dost thou need today? Is there again trouble, and shall I—?"
"Yes, make an example of them. It will put them in line," the Dark Lord said with a laugh, and Sauron smiled.
Morgoth withdrew more often to his chambers and sat there in dark thought. For a feeling of foreboding had fallen deep into the gloom of Angband, and though the forges and halls were as busy as ever with the preparations of war, the Dark Lord now sensed that a time would come when Sauron would need to perform his own duties as well as His Lord's. He knew that Sauron felt the premonition as well.
Unbeknownst to the Dark Lord, a half-Elf with the stolen Silmaril escaped from Gondolin—though the Vala had been sure this was wholly impossible—had journeyed across the sea to make a last plea to the Valar, and the gods who until now had been utterly indifferent to Middle-earth accepted his entreaty to avert the suffering of the First and Second-born.
And now the Host of the Valar had landed at the Firth of Drengist and begun marching upon the Dark Lord's fortress. Morgoth paced in his dark hall, his wrath hardly contained by the raiment that was his body. His head suddenly snapped to the side, for he noticed that he had not seen Sauron in his hall, and need and longing possessed him. Dark cloak billowing behind him, he strode down to the forges in the very bottom of the fortress, for it was there he knew to find his servant.
Sauron beat the gold upon the anvil heatedly, and he scarcely even noticed His Lord's presence until the Vala took the hammer from his him and stayed his hand with his black gauntlet.
"Come, Mairon," Morgoth barked, "I do not want thee to be consumed by thy worries here in the darkness!" He pulled Sauron backwards into his embrace and released a great raspy breath as he buried his face in the Maia's hair.
"Yes, My Lord," Sauron murmured, and Morgoth heard the misery and bitterness in his steady, obedient voice.
The Vala growled low in his throat and turned Sauron to face him. "We do not yet know if the coming of the Valar will lead to our defeat! Am I not the mightiest of the Valar, and the most cunning? And art thou not my greatest, my most trusted and perilous servant?"[i]
"Aye, My Lord," Sauron replied, as the echoes of Morgoth's cries died away.
"Sauron the Deceiver they call thee," Morgoth continued as he began to climb the stairs, "For thou hast deceived and persuaded Men to fight for us, and so thou shallt do again." Sauron followed behind, gazing up at Morgoth's crown silhouetted in the glow of the Silmarils. "But many more servants than thou does Melkor Lord of the Earth have at his command. Thou hast bred great armies for this day, behind which the Valaraukar will come in an onslaught of fire and darkness too great and terrible for the weak children of Iluvatar to withstand. And last of all, Ancalagon the Black, whom I have waited long to unveil, and the other winged dragons will pour down flames of death from the sky. All will know again the might of Melkor if they have forgotten it since the destruction of the Hidden City." He now stepped out below the immense peaks of Thangorodrim. "For am I not Lord of the Earth?"
Before them lay the Gasping Dust covered in the horrible smokes and fires of Angband. Lava flowed past on the rock. Its unnatural light could not penetrate the darkness that hung from the sky pierced with the light of the two stolen jewels. Morgoth turned to look upon his lieutenant. The ghost of a smile rose on Sauron's lips and he bowed. "Thou art, My Lord."
"And Arda shall for ever be mine, for in it I poured my will. And thy will too, Mairon. The Valar could not have provided me with a better servant."
Again Sauron smiled, and it was more true, as his eyes shown brighter with passion and malice. Morgoth gazed into his eyes and, taking him by the waist, pulled him into the stream of lava. It was hot against their skin as their cloaks leapt up in fire. Morgoth brushed his armored fingers through the dark flames of Sauron's hair and kissed his mouth deeply.
"And it is an honor to serve thee," Sauron replied automatically with a hiss when Morgoth withdrew, but he averted his eyes.
The Vala's gauntlet slipped down to the skin of his chest bared by the flames. He peered at Sauron's face, where pain was concealed behind a calm exterior. "More than an honor…" he murmured.
Sauron clenched his jaw and replied, his voice low and unwavering, "Aye, for I love thee, Lord."
Morgoth smiled and, baring his teeth, brushed his mouth against Sauron's cheek and repeated the words in their own horrid Black Speech in reply. He felt the Maia shudder against him.
He cast off his armor, which was forged in hotter fires than these and would not melt but grew hot on his shoulders. Again he took Sauron in his arms. Savagely he kissed his neck, and Sauron's head fell back in the molten rock. For a moment, as the lava covered the other side of his face, Morgoth perceived Sauron's one red eye, wreathed in flame. But then the Maia closed his eyes and arched his back under His Lord's caresses. Morgoth ran his blackened hands up Sauron's chest, still unscarred, golden in the glow of the lava, and pressed his own scarred face against it as he scraped Sauron's skin with his teeth. The Maia's cry of pleasure was lost amid the sounds of the rushing stream. Morgoth brushed the lava from Sauron's face and neck like water, and returned his lips to his beloved.
The fortress shook to its foundations as tremors from the fall of the dragon ran down into the earth. Ancalagon the Black had at last fallen upon Thangorodrim. The horrible sound reverberated around them.
"I am still Lord of the Earth!" Morgoth snarled, and power flamed up behind his shoulders like a cloak. "How dare they oppose me, Melkor, the mightiest of the Valar, the true King of ARDA!"
Sauron clenched and unclenched his hands. "My Lord…What dost thou command?"
Morgoth wheeled on his servant, for he immediately heard the fear in the Maia's voice. "Mairon…" he whispered. But his eyes strayed elsewhere in their madness and he was silent. Then his gauntlets closed with a metallic sound as his hands shook in anger. "I command thee…I command thee to continue thy work. I fear that the Valar will soon overthrow me, but they can never undo what I have done—what we have done." He narrowed his eyes at Sauron and smiled a terrible smile, filled with malice and sorrow. "Perhaps one day we shall meet again in the breaking of the world."
Sauron took a quick step towards the Dark Lord and placed a hand lightly upon the gauntlet. He looked down at his fingers, still unused to touching the Vala without permission—and unused to even the reverse, having the love of His Lord. "I cannot bear—"
"It must be this way," Morgoth hissed, brushing his finger over Sauron's wrist. "When we part, go to the forge and take thyself a weapon, and then begone. I cannot let the Enemy catch thee."
Sauron bowed his head in assent. Morgoth saw his shoulders tremble almost imperceptibly. Then, suddenly, with great strength he pulled Sauron to his chest and sat on the side of their bed, holding the Maia's head to his breastplate and resting his chin in his hair. He closed his eyes.
"Mairon…" he murmured.
"My Lord, they will do something cruel to thee—"
"They already have," Morgoth growled. He stripped his gauntlets, and slowly, for the first time, with his blackened hands, lifted the great iron crown from his head and set it beside him. The light of the Silmarils illuminated the great scar across his face, which was contorted with anger. "They have imprisoned, humiliated, burned, cut, scarred, fooled and ROBBED me!" he hissed, and his voice filled the dark room as he looked at the empty place within his crown. But his eyes shifted to Sauron's face. "And now they want to rob me of thee as well."
He unfastened his breastplate and the rest of his armor and again regarded Sauron with his dark gaze.
"With the lessening of the weight of the Silmarils, the burden upon my heart is eased too, for I know that thou will carry out my wishes," he murmured, and smiled with pain as he looked upon his servant.
Sauron's eyes burned as he fought to keep his jaw from shaking with anger and grief. "My Lord," he murmured, and lifted a hand. Slowly, he extended his fingers to touch Morgoth's face and the Dark Lord looked into his eyes without wrath. He touched the scar for the first time. Morgoth did not pull away nor did he stay his hand. At last the hand fell, trembling, and Sauron leaned in and pressed his mouth against Morgoth's. Again the Dark Lord did not pull away, though it was the first time Sauron had been so bold. He took the back of the Maia's head gently in his hand and held him closer.
When they pulled apart at length Morgoth again rested his chin on top of Sauron's head and pulled him to his chest. "They want to rob me of thee, my most trusted, my most precious. Aye, my precious. For thou art precious to me."
As he closed his eyes, Sauron's red eyes flickered open, and in the darkness of Angband he swore retribution on the enemies of his master.
The Silmarils were wrested from Morgoth and his crown was beaten down into a collar. He shook with anger and exhaustion from battle as Tulkas knelt before him.
"What, dost thou seek to humiliate me by pretending to bow?" Morgoth spat. "But thou should bow!"
Tulkas spoke, "Nay." And he drew a knife and cut into Morgoth's ankle. The screams of the Dark Lord echoed in the barren land. For his cruel punishment was to be forced to crawl before his abhorred Enemy with severed feet, but all present covered their ears at the horrible sound, the last display of the power of the mightiest of the Valar.
Sauron knelt before Eonwe. He bowed his head to the ground. "I will do thy bidding and return to Valinor to face the punishment appointed for me," he murmured, as he hid his seething red eyes. At that moment, far-off cries pierced the fortress like a knife. Eonwe was cut to the core with dread, and, not understanding the nature of Sauron's evil nor of evil itself, looked away for an instant from his prostrated body.
"What was that sound?" he cried.
"The voice of the true Ruler of Arda, Melkor, Lord of the Earth!" a great hissing voice spoke, but when Eonwe looked back, the Maia was gone and in his place were red licking flames.
Sauron hurried to the smithies, and Morgoth's screams of pain could not divert him, for he would not disobey His Lord, but the cries burned his heart and only hardened his determination to fulfill his task. Many weapons had he to choose from, and he had forged most of them himself. He looked around frantically past the spears, swords, and suits of armor until at last his gaze caught upon Grond, the Hammer of the Underworld. A stab of pain shot through him at the sight of the still, silent weapon, never again to be lifted by its master's mighty hand.
For Morgoth was indeed mighty, and fearsome in combat. But Sauron was more gifted at deceiving, poisoning the mind, and slowly bending it to his will. He turned away from the great hammer and approached the anvil where he had lain down his last work at the beginning of the War of Wrath. He had not touched it since. He took it now, and nothing else—an unadorned ring of gold.
[i] Sauron is described as the "greatest and most trusted, and most perilous of Melkor's servants."
