The Rejection

The Mansions of Aulë, TA 3016

People were still milling around after the performance when Yavanna came into the kitchen again. She had come in person to fetch Sauron and deliver him to Aulë, who had finally agreed to grant him an interview. Sauron followed her into the Front Hall and up the Formal Staircase. Maiar normally used the servants' staircase, but could use the Formal Staircase if they were doing something for one of the Valar.

Sauron was excited because he was finally getting to see Aulë, but he was also apprehensive. After the Invasion of Valinor, along with the withdrawal of Manwë's open ended offer to stand trial, Aulë disowned him and cursed all his works. Sauron worked hard to persuade himself that Aulë didn't really mean it. Aulë was not a concrete thinker. Things right in front of him were real, while things out of sight and out of mind were not. To reject a far away traitor was one thing, but to reject a former favorite when they were alone together was another.

After all, he was here in the house attending the Reunion. The disowned wouldn't normally be allowed on the property.

His name may have been scratched off the panel which listed Aulë's Maiar, but it was still legible. Aulë could have obliterated it if he's chosen to. For that matter, Aulë could have replaced the panel with a new one that didn't include his name at all, but he hadn't done so.

After Sauron left to follow Melkor, Saruman has taken Sauron's place as First Maia. Saruman took pains to inform him of it. Sauron chose to believe that if he came back here to live, he would be restored as First Maia, and Saruman would drop back to second place.

Sauron tried to be optimistic. His great fear was that Aulë really had repudiated him, renounced him, cast him off. He was terrified that Aulë would no longer acknowledged his connection to him. But maybe Aulë was just mad at him, and would get over it.

As unpleasant as it was to face Aulë when Aulë was mad at him, it was the best option he dared hope for, at the moment. He mentally rehearsed how it might go. He must listen while Aulë talked. Or yelled. He must admit fault and take personal responsibility. He must show remorse. Whatever he did, he must not lie to Aulë, not even lies of omission. Aulë hated being lied to, and Sauron was a habitual liar. If Aulë wanted to beat him, he would submit to it. He didn't fear it because the rod and the belt were an easy path to forgiveness in the Mansions of Aulë. Unpleasant to be sure, but it would be worth it. He worked hard to feel optimistic.

They were outside Aulë's study. Yavanna turned to him and said, "You have five minutes." Sauron was taken aback. The others were granted twenty or thirty minute each, and several of them had been called back a second time.

Sauron walked into Aulë's study and saw Aulë sitting at his desk. Aulë looked exactly as he had when Sauron saw him last, wild hair, long beard, a huge figure with the massive shoulders and arms of a blacksmith. A thousand warm feelings and happy memories from his youth flooded over him all at once. Without waiting to be bidden to speak, he cried, "Oh Aulë!" He was about to say, "I missed you so much!" but didn't, because the look on Aulë's face stopped him in his tracks.

Aulë leaned back in his chair, regarding Sauron with a cold, unfriendly stare.

"Sauron Gorthaur." Aulë said in an ice-cold tone. "So we meet again."

"Aulë, please!"

Aulë called me 'Sauron Gorthaur', he thought. Bad sign. Very, very bad sign. Sauron felt tears stinging behind his eyes and fought them back. He remained standing in the doorway because Aulë had not asked him to come in, much less invited him to sit down.

"I never expected to see you again. Nor do I want to."

"Aulë, please! Don't say that." Sauron was being destroyed by it.

"I hear you've developed a cruel streak. That bothers me most of all. You never used to be cruel. I feel like I don't know you anymore.

Sauron had been trying so hard not to cry, but just then, the tears he'd been holding back spilled down his face. His didn't dare wipe them from his eyes, because he was afraid to call attention to them. Aulë hated tears. For that matter, he didn't like the messiness of emotions in general.

"I don't even know why you're here." Aulë said, in an angry tone. "This is a gathering for my people, not Melkor's. You've already overstayed your welcome. I suggest you leave."

Sauron was sobbing openly now. He assumed he would never see Aulë again. Whatever he needed to say to him, now was the time.

"I'm here because I needed to say goodbye to you." He turned to go, then added, "I've always loved you. I've missed you so much." Without waiting for a reply, he turned and fled.

Sauron stumbled out of the room and ran down the servants' stairs, tripping, blind from tears. There was a lavatory at the base of the stairs. He barely made it there in time. Mircaewen saw him go in, and paused outside, listening. She heard him crying so hard he threw up. She followed him in and held his hair while he was sick. When he was done, she brought him a glass of water and made him drink it.

Sauron wiped his mouth, and went to the door in the kitchen leading to the cellar stairs. He closed the door behind him quietly. Angmar got up to follow. Mircaewen put her hand on the door, holding it closed.

"No." she said. "Give him some peace. It's what he needs right now."

Angmar waited an hour before going downstairs to check on him. He found his Master lying face down on the damp stone floor in the most distant corner of the cellar. His head was pillowed on his folded arms. He made no sound, but his whole body shook from sobbing.

"Are you all right?" asked Angmar.

Sauron shook his head 'No'. After a while, he said, "I don't want to live anymore."

That really frightened Angmar. He was concerned enough that he went to find Eönwë. Angmar had some vague idea about setting a suicide watch on him until he was feeling better. But Eönwë, although kind and attentive, didn't take his fears seriously.

"Just leave him be. He'll be fine." Eönwë said, unconcerned.

"You don't understand. I've never seen him like this before. I don't dare leave him alone because I'm afraid he'll do something to hurt himself." Angmar was pleading.

"Honestly, you don't have to watch him. He's not going to hurt himself. He doesn't have the ability to. None of us do.

Angmar went back downstairs to check on his Master, who was still saying, "I don't want to live anymore." Angmar was exasperated with him. He snapped, "Well, since you're immortal, that isn't really one of your options, is it?"

"No, I guess it isn't." Sauron agreed weakly.

Yavanna had always been protective of Sauron. She didn't like the way her husband spoke to him, especially when she knew how excited and hopeful he had been feeling about seeing Aulë again. She went upstairs to confront him and they had heated words on the subject.

"He came all this way to see you, at considerable personal risk to himself. He really did want to see you." Yavanna said.

"He came here because Ilúvatar commanded him to. He's under Ilúvatar's protection and he has immunity from Manwë, so he wasn't taking any risks." Aulë replied.

"What did you say to him? He went up to see you so hopeful and excited, but came downstairs crying so hard he threw up." Yavanna told him.

Aulë was actually kind of impressed. He hadn't known that his rebellious Maia cared about him that much. Then he started to wonder if perhaps he'd been too hard on his former favorite.

"Tell you what. I really didn't let him talk. I'll invite him up again tomorrow, and give him at least an hour. I'll let him explain himself all he likes. He's a manipulative creature and hard to read, but I'll try to get inside his head. Good enough?"

"Good enough for now." said Yavanna.

When it was time to turn in, Eönwë came downstairs and set up a cot for himself next to Sauron's. Sauron moved his closer to Angmar's to make a space for Eönwë. The cellar barracks was getting more and more crowded as visitors kept arriving. Some of them, like Eönwë, lived nearby, but had to sleep here because of the quarantine rules.

Angmar had a sudden thought. The Circle of Doom was near Eönwë's house, if not in it. Eönwë lived nearby.

"How close are we to the Circle of Doom?" he asked Sauron.

"It's about half an hour from here on foot." Sauron replied.

Angmar shuddered. That was the place Sauron least wanted to be in the world. Angmar sat up in bed, and turned to his Master with another panicked thought.

"Mairon, did you remember to pin your immunity badge to your nightshirt? Well, do it now. No, it is important." 'Whoa!' he thought to himself, 'I just barked orders at my Master. And it seemed like a perfectly natural thing to do.'

A lamp was left burning in a niche in the wall, just like the night before. Sauron and Eönwë kept talking in low voices while others went to sleep. Angmar couldn't make out the words, but he could still hear their low murmuring voices long after he dropped off to sleep.

Angmar woke up during the night and realized his Master was awake. He could tell from his breathing that he was crying. Angmar wanted to reach over and touch his arm, but he also wanted to give him his privacy. He lay awake, embarrassed, not knowing what to do.

Then Angmar opened his eyes, and it was morning. It was still pitch black in the cellar. Sauron's older sister stood on the lowest cellar step shouting, "Time to get up!" People started to stir in their cots. Eönwë, bare shouldered, reached for his shirt on the floor. His wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Phew! I wore that too many days in a row!" Eönwë didn't know about the quarantine when he came over, and hadn't brought a change of clothes. Sauron took a clean shirt from his own bag, the last one he had, and tossed it to him.

"Thanks!" said Eönwë, surprised.

"No worries." Sauron told him.

"It's just like old times. But where's Melkor's badge? It ought to be right here, on the shoulder." teased Eönwë. They both cracked up.