Chapter 2
Bilbo, by necessity, had to be told of this plan. Frodo could hardly go without telling him why he was planning to travel to Aman. Bilbo had been less than pleased, feeling that Frodo had already done enough, and that anything more would merely upset him for no reason. But Frodo held firm. Finally, realizing that Frodo felt he needed to do this, Bilbo gave in, but he still worried. He could see that Frodo still had not healed from his quest. Privately Bilbo had begun to wonder if he ever would, though he kept that fear to himself.
The voyage to Aman was uneventful. Frodo was excited about this unparalleled opportunity, but also extremely nervous. Not only about the trial, but simply entering the Undying Lands. He was keenly aware of his mortality at the moment.
Once the ship had docked in the harbor, Frodo followed Finrod to the carriage that would carry them to Tirion. Finrod explained that he usually rode, but Frodo was grateful for the carriage. He was certain that he would look ridiculous on a pony next to a group of Elves.
"Do they know why I'm here?" Frodo asked, indicating the Elves around the harbor. He'd received some curious glances, but none seemed to be wondering what he was doing there. Finrod shook his head.
"They know you are coming, of course," he explained. "But the exact details of why have not been widely shared. It was decided that it was better to keep the trial a secret, to keep any public outcry from occurring."
Frodo could see the logic in that, and he turned his attention to the view outside the window. They were moving though the Calacirya now, and though it no longer was illuminated by the light of the Two Trees, and simply existed under the light of the Sun and Moon like the rest of Arda, Frodo could feel the difference here. He understood why it was dangerous for mortals to dwell in this land. He was glad that he was not staying long.
Still, this was an opportunity that few had ever had. Frodo suddenly empathized with Eärendil. He too had a reason to be here, but somehow felt out of place. Frodo took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
The rest of the day passed in a blur. Frodo was seeing sights he had only read about, and had never in his wildest dreams ever thought he'd see: even when he had sailed West. But finally, he was alone in a guest suite that was more opulent than even Minas Tirith. Deciding that it had been plenty for a day, he blew out the candles and slipped into bed, letting sleep take him.
The next morning was clear and crisp. Frodo thought is seemed both new and ancient: the first sunrise over a timeless world. Frodo snorted at that thought. He really needed to leave the clouds of stuff and nonsense. Firmly, he began to quote all the pithy statements he could remember Hamfast Gamgee ever saying.
They started out early that morning, but not horribly so, the distance to the Máhanaxar was not impossibly great. When they neared their goal, the coach stopped, and Finrod and Frodo continued on foot. Frodo stared in awe at the blackened remains of the Two Trees. Even dead, they were massive, and a poignant reminder of what had been.
But they couldn't hold his attention long, for it was caught by the absolute power radiating from the occupied thrones beyond it.
All fourteen of the Valar were there, even Ulmo leaving his beloved ocean to join the rest. Frodo had no doubt that he was in the presence of the true rulers of Arda. He and Finrod bowed deeply when the drew close. Frodo's mind flitted briefly to when Aragorn had forbidden the Hobbits from bowing to him, telling them they bowed to no one. He figured that this was a definite exception to that. Neither Frodo or Finrod realized what a study in opposites they provided. One tall, one short, one with light hair, the other dark, one immortal, one mortal.
Finrod led the way, moving to stand between Aulë and Yavanna. Frodo felt inexplicably comforted by this. He had always believed that if Hobbits had a patron among the Valar, it would be the Kementári. That idea was reinforced when she turned with a gentle smile for him.
Finrod was on his right, standing next to Aulë. Beyond him was the Lady Varda, next to Lord Manwë, with Ulmo to his right. Exactly opposite Manwë was Námo, the Doomsman dressed all in black. Two Valiër flanked him, one very similar to him, dressed in grey and purple, whom Frodo assumed was Nienna. Vairë sat to Námo's left.
"Thank you for coming," Manwë said.
"Thank you, my lord, for including us in this matter," Finrod replied sincerely. Manwë dipped his head in acknowledgement. He then turned his gaze straight across the ring to Námo.
"Bring him," he said softly. Námo made no visible sign, but almost instantly three Maiar appeared, the one in the center obviously a prisoner.
Whatever Frodo was expecting, this wasn't it. Sauron was only about as tall as Finrod, which still made him almost twice Frodo's height, but was rather short for what Frodo had seen of the Ainur. He was dressed simply, in black, loose fitting clothes. And he was barefoot. Frodo didn't know why that struck him, but it did.
Long, black, slightly tangled hair fell loose around the Maia's face, which was so pale as to appear bloodless. Frodo knew that many considered himself to be pale, but compared to the Maia he was still having trouble identifying as Sauron, he felt positively tan. The only color that was evident was the golden eyes that swept over Hobbit and Elf with a wary, intense gaze.
Frodo tried to connect the mostly ordinary looking Maia in front of him with the terrible figure that had terrorized men and elves alike for the past three ages. It wasn't working. But when he glanced at Finrod, he noticed a look of recognition on his face. So, this must be what Sauron had appeared like in the First Age.
Frodo, for the first time, consciously thought about what he would have pictured Sauron as during the Quest. An Eye, a shadowy figure, a darkness, perhaps in armor; Frodo had heard the stories of the Last Alliance. But mostly, it was a simple golden ring, smooth and fair, and altogether precious, that Frodo thought about when he imagined Sauron. Mingled loathing and longing rose in him, as it always did at the thought of the Ring. Frodo pushed the tangled emotions to the back of his mind, locking them in the same remote corner he always did. There were other things he needed to focus on.
Turning his attention to other two Maiar, Frodo was surprised to see one of them was female. She was taller than Sauron, with long brown hair, and green eyes. The other Maia was brawny, with sandy brown hair. Sauron knelt in the center of the Ring, and the other two Maiar bowed to their lord and moved to stand between his throne and that of Lady Vairë, where they would be out of the way.
Fourteen Valar, two Maiar, one Elf, and one Hobbit all stared at Sauron, who stared at a point just beyond his knees. Just when Frodo thought they were all going to stay like that for the next age, and began to wonder what they would do when his stomach started protesting, Manwë spoke.
"List the charges," he ordered. Námo silently rose to his feet, and Frodo realized the psychological power of having a ring with Manwë and Námo opposite each other. With the being in the middle facing the Elder King, the Doomsman was at his back. If the accused turned to face Námo, it would place Lord Manwë at his back. One could not face them both.
"Sauron Gorthaur," Námo began. "You stand accused of forsaking your sworn lord and turning in secret service to Melkor, joining him in rebellion against your Creator, giving him information detrimental to Our efforts to accomplish the mission We entered Eä to fulfill. You helped Morgoth Bauglir accomplish the darkest deeds of his bid for supremacy in Eä, including the twisted genesis of his creatures.
"When your chosen Master was humbled and brought before Us in judgement, you repented before Eönwë, yet refused to return to Aman to receive justice. Instead you fled, and restyled yourself in your Master's stead. You deceived the Noldor into forging the Great Rings, and when your deception was revealed, you chose to destroy those that had trusted and learned from you.
"You exploited the pride of Númenor and her rulers to your own ends, turning them against Us as the proper rulers of Arda, a scheme which ended in Ilúvatar himself halting your plans by drowning Númenor and changing the form of Arda. Yet in your pride you continued to try to control Middle-earth, waging war upon the remaining Elves, and the faithful remnant of Númenor.
"Now you have again been defeated, this time through Pity and Mercy. Now there are no choices before you: judgement shall be rendered." Námo again resumed his throne.
"And what do you have to say in response?" Manwë asked the kneeling Maia in the center of the ring. Sauron looked up for the first time.
"It's all true," he said emotionlessly. "All except the first two, which I didn't have a choice in."
"So are their any reasons we should not summarily sentence you to the Void?" Manwë asked.
"Two," Sauron replied. "First, Morgoth is going to turn anything and anyone in the Void into a weapon for Dagor Dagorath. So from a tactical perspective, it is foolish to sentence anyone there unless there it is necessary. And second: it is not actually necessary. A cell in Mandos would not allow me to be a danger to anyone, even at the end of time."
"You would willingly accept to be confined in Mandos until Arda ends?" Manwë continued questioning the Maia. Sauron shrugged.
"If it meant not being sentenced to the Void? Yes," he affirmed. There seemed nothing more to say after that, and silence reigned for a moment before Manwë sighed.
"We have no further questions for you at this time," he said. "You will be returned to Mandos until we do." Námo's two Maiar moved forward, taking hold of Sauron again, and thought themselves back to Mandos, leaving only Frodo, Finrod, and the Valar in the Máhanaxar. Manwë turned to Finrod and Frodo.
"And what do you think of all that," he asked the Elf. Finrod spoke slowly, thoughtfully.
"I believe he's telling the truth," he said. "After all, he admitted to most of it. However, I do not believe that I have the right to decide this matter. My own experiences with Sauron stemmed from my own pride in joining the rebellion of my people. If I had turned back, as my Atar did, I would not have died in the dungeons of my own tower." He sighed. "I will yield to Frodo on this matter."
Frodo looked conflicted as attention was turned to him. "I feel he did not tell us everything," he said slowly. "We all know his actions, but do we know anything of his motives? Or have we simply assigned why we think he did what he did to his actions, and overlooked what truly happened? He candidly admitted to what are usually considered his most heinous crimes, and yet denied his actions in the First Age, saying he did not have a choice. Could that be true?" Frodo paused for a moment.
"He tried to repent before Eönwë, and yet something changed his mind," he shook his head. "I cannot help but feel that there is something that caused that, that linked all of these events together."
"So you would grant Sauron's plea to remain in Mandos rather than be consigned to the Void?" Manwë asked the Hobbit. Frodo was silent for a time. Then he raised his head, conviction burning in those blue eyes.
"If he is sincere in his repentance, I would have him return to Middle-earth," he said firmly. Stunned disbelieve met that statement. Frodo elaborated.
"If he truly wishes to change, he cannot do that in a cell. I would have him return to Middle-earth, to try and heal the damage he caused. Of course, there would have to be safeguards in place: I do not wish for him to fall back to his old ways and again try to enslave Middle-earth." Frodo paused.
"This is perhaps not my judgment to make, but surely even he deserves a second chance."
Manwë thoughtfully studied Frodo, then nodded slowly.
"We will consider your words, and learn what we can of Sauron's motives," he assured the Hobbit. Recognizing the dismissal, both Elf and Hobbit bowed, and took their leave, heading back towards Tirion. Frodo would spend the night there, before continuing back to Tol Eressëa. The Valar sat in silence, watching them go.
"We will examine his memories?" Námo finally asked, breaking the silence. Manwë nodded.
"Tonight."