Chapter 3
Smiling at the sun and falling into an abyss
Approaching the palace, the black horse stumbled, but the rider didn't notice it- too deeply immersed in his thoughts. He was attempting to evoke those overpowering feelings aroused in him, when he was taking pleasure from that Numenorean lord, by recalling time and time again the sensual images of their delight.
A quiet moan escaping from the bitten lips of the Numenorean, as light strands of the soft white hair touched the skin of his chest…
Rapacious glitter in the gray eyes, when the tender lips are gliding over the heated flesh…
Thin fingers clutching the surface of the black couch, when the Maia's hot tongue is licking off drops of blood appearing on the pale skin, after bites of the sharp teeth…
The stream of the exciting thoughts was suddenly interrupted.
"Sauron!" A demanding roar drew him pitilessly away from the world of sweet dreams, and back into reality.
He didn't notice that he had already reached the palace. For an instant, his beautiful face twisted. Ar-Pharazon. That was his voice. Sauron jumped off his well-groomed steed, threw the reins to a hastening servant, and moved towards the palace, knowing that the king was watching him from the flung wide open window of the royal study. At length, passing through innumerable passages, he got to the place. The Maia courteously bowed before the king, and quietly shut the door behind him. The royal study was an impressive room, wide and well-lit, a fluffy parti-colored carpet, fine swords and armor along the walls, a large table, and a chair of wood mahogany. The same closet in the distant corner. Everything was very expensive and pretentious. But Sauron didn't pay any attention to it. He looked expectantly at Ar-Pharazon, who was heavily stepping to and fro.
"I was considering all what you had told me, and I made a decision," The king uttered, heaving his head.
Indeed?
The Maia narrowed his flashing eyes. King Ar-Pharazon the Golden. He was getting old…
A great warrior he had been once, very tall and strong, with broad shoulders and firm hands. His hard face was already covered with a net of thin wrinkles, gray strands in his black hair, and a flabby belly he hid under his magnificent silk red robes, adorned with gold and gems. He was becoming flabby since he had hung his sword on the wall…
Suddenly Pharazon grabbed Sauron's wrist with his thick short fingers.
"Do you hear me?", he hummed, "Sometimes I have a feeling that you don't hear me at all, and do not want to."
He was getting angry.
Sauron looked at him, and smiled without parting his lips. He answered nothing.
The Numenorean king fell heavily in his chair, still holding the Maia's hand, and threw off his own robe, pulling down his trousers.
Kneeling down, Sauron leaned forward and closed his eyes. He didn't want to see.
Enjoy it. Enjoy it, as yet you can. Enjoy your power, my lips and my tongue. Enjoy these days of your life, for they are the last which still remain. But you don't know about it yet. And now, just enjoy…
…At length, another day came.
Sauron was lying on the back on a glade in his grove, avoiding watching at the shining sun.
The dark blue sky above him…
The soft thick grass beneath him…
There is the pulsing life around him, he is life itself, sensing all currents of existence. He is taking delight in being alive, in this possibility to feel all this- this grass, this sky, this body, this pulse of life. To forget about his broken soul, and just to live. Just let those exhausted shreds remember the time they still were alive…
A breeze is tousling his light white strands, a smile on his lips… He knows what is happening now in the harbors- vessels are gathering themselves up, very many warships, a great fleet… Everything he had whispered in the king's ear made its black deed.
The thoughts what he could do with this island after their departing, roused his imagination. His smile became wider. He felt good, and he had a very sensual body, responsive both to caress and pain. Throwing off his robes, he passed his thin fingers over his chest to the stomach, gliding touches to his sides, caressing his smooth pale skin… and then lower…
…He was already at home when the clear blue sky darkened, and it began to rain and hail. Knowing the cause of all this, Sauron started to laugh. If any man heard this laughter, he would never forget it, till the end of his days. The Maia left his house immediately, taking his black steed and setting off to the Temple.
…Thirty eight days passed since the Numenorean fleet had departed.
Sauron, now the lord of this island, had many things to do. He was paying attention to the Faithful that still remained here. The flame in his altar ceased not even for an instant, consuming unclean bodies of their possessors. His sacrificial knife dried not from filthy blood, penetrating their foul shuddering flesh. The walls of his Temple absorbed their desperate death cries, as they were writhing in agony.
At length, tired but content, he sat in the chair before the altar, almost trembling with anticipation.
The king of Numenor stepped on the blessed land of Aman
Unwillingly, Sauron clenched the carved arms of his chair.
The king of Numenor, standing upon Túna, claimed Tirion for his own
Sauron closed his eyes.
Hills fell and sent to non-existence, the king of Numenor and all his host
Sauron began to laugh.
He was still laughing, when the whole land shuddered, and a bottomless dark abyss burst open, devouring everything.
The view of split layers of earth, and enormous waves aroused by the wrath of the Valar, drove him to madness. Never did he imagine that he could experience such an indescribable horror, forgetting all other emotions and feelings, losing the last remnants of reason.
His wide, disbelieving green eyes did not reflect the sensations of his graceful body, when ruthless waves and layers fell upon him with all their terrible power, and he fell into the black abyss… and the relentless waters closed above him.