Eight: Cowardice
It was a lesson hard learned. We were cowards, both of us. Sauron had not defended his master. Instead he had fled. Seeing me captured he had not dared to halt, and indeed the thrown axe had penetrated Eönwë's armour only because of the speed Sauron's flight lent it. And I – I had been ready to surrender and betray us all. Of course I kept all this secret, and I actually feared Moringotto's return – he would see right through me.
Or he would have, if I had not spent the time to strengthen my mental defences. It is hard to describe the process in words, as it took place in the wordless depth of my innermost heart. I remade myself again and again, until my face was mask-like, and my eye of flesh as expressionless as my eye of stone.
The black orb was a construct Sauron had carefully built for me with his dark magic. It was an eye to see through all things, as if they were nothing but air and glass. Through darkness I saw, and through light, through stone and iron, wood and water, skin and bone and living flesh. All the way to the horizon, to the flaming depths of the earth and the chilly heights of the sky – my new eye opened everything to me. Through eyes and expressions I saw into the very souls of the Children of Ilúvatar.
Not that I was all-seeing and without weakness. With skill, I could be deceived. The hearts of the Ainur were no more open to me than they already had been. And when I flew over the sea, westwards, until the mountain wall guarding Aman rose in the horizon, I looked through the mountains, hoping to see my lord Melkor in his captivity and perhaps spy on the Valar –
The brightness! How it burned me! Telperion was fading, Laurelin growing brighter. Their light was too much for my eyes. So pure and holy it was, so unlike the sputtering torches and red lava of Angamando. I was blinded, I turned away and flew home trembling, broken and weakened. I almost fell into the waves, perished in the storm that was rising. For a long time the images of the two trees seemed burned in the back of my eyes, hovering between me and everything I saw. I blamed Sauron and his work, but he told me I had simply lived in the darkness too long and learned the secrets of darkness too well. I had become a creature of the night, powerful and mighty beyond my former stature, but only when I remained in the shadows. The stone eye was merely the last seal upon my fate – as soon as Sauron had drunk my blood, my doom had been carved on my soul. It was always my nature to desire for secrets – and darkness is where secrets thrive, whereas light by revealing them destroys them. Once, as the Maia of Hidden Things, my secrets had been innocent as the sky between the stars – now, a darkness foul and black as volcano-smoke surrounded them.
Yes, that is my weakness. All light that is pure and holy burns me, and had I seen the Two Trees unshielded, no doubt they would have burned me to ashes and dust.
Time passed. And then we heard the voice of our Lord and master, crying out – for help! His voice tore the hills apart, and the mountains trembled. The valaraukar flew to his aid. I did not, nor did Sauron. We were cowards. We thought too much in our cleverness, and this is what we thought: if something was stronger than Moringotto, how could we prevail against it?
But the valaraukar did, and drove Ungoliant away. Our Lord had returned, too shaken by the betrayal of his latest ally to bother with us. He set about rebuilding his kingdom, centred on Angamando. He called to him all that remained of his creatures. Three peaks he raised above the fortress, the Sangororimbë, or Thangorodrim as they were most often called. Mighty was his fortress, great his dominion, and with an iron crown he crowned himself King of the World.
And on that crown he had set the Silmarils. While he wore it, I could not go near him. The opposite end of his great throne room was the closest I could manage, and even then with my eyes closed and turned away from that light. That meant I almost had to shout all the messages I gave him, and thus was no longer trusted with his inmost secrets. But it also meant that he could not look into my eyes and see my secret shame. My cowardice.