Chapter 4

Námo thought himself back to Mandos, the shaking wreck of a Maia still in his arms. He returned to Sauron's former cell, sat down on the cot, and waited.

Sauron was fighting to bring himself back under control, but without much success. He was still trembling violently, and Námo suspected shock was the only thing keeping him from breaking down completely.

"It wasn't your fault, you know," he murmured softly. Sauron's only response was to try and curl up tighter.

"It wasn't," Námo continued. "Melkor simply waited for an excuse to hurt you. He enjoyed the power it gave him. That you escaped that fate for so long is a testament to your skill and power, nothing else."

Sauron shook his head, still curled up into himself. "No, it was my fault. Even if the only mistake I made was to join him in the first place, it was still my fault."

Námo blinked at that convoluted logic. He had thought that the only ones who twisted logic that much were the Noldor. And the Dúnedain.

"Why did you decide to join him?" he asked. Sauron gave a short, bitter, ironic laugh.

"He threatened to hurt me. And Olórin. And everyone else I cared about." he whispered. Vala and Maia sat silent for a time after that statement. Then Sauron uncurled enough to look Námo in the face.

"He hurt me," he said, barely loud enough to be heard.

"He did," Námo answered, nearly as soft. Sauron dropped his gaze.

"And then you made me relive it all." Námo sighed.

"We did, though we did not know how badly you had been hurt. But because we did so, child, we can help you heal. And we will."

Pain, disbelief, and cynicism warred with acceptance in the Maia's gaze. But what struck Námo was the small spark of hope that appeared. Against his will, terrified what it would do if proven groundless; but for the first time in ages, Sauron began to hope.

The shaking finally began to slow, as Sauron began to relax, and drift off to sleep. He shifted to a more comfortable position as he did so, sinking deeper into the Vala's embrace. Námo began to laugh softly as Sauron curled firmly into him, like a cat seeking heat.

"What?" asked Sauron sleepily. "You're warm. And I've been cold for so long…" His voice trailed off as he finally drifted to sleep.

Námo sat like that for a while longer, making sure Sauron was fully asleep before moving the Maia fully onto the cot, and standing up. Sauron gave a soft murmur of discontent that changed into a sigh as Námo pulled the thick blankets up to his chin. Námo stepped back, and after waiting for a moment to make sure Sauron wasn't waking up, thought himself back to the Ring of Doom.

He took his seat, and the other Valar looked at him, giving him the option of speaking first. Not that most expected him too, he often remained silent in important debates. Not this time though. The future was in flux, too much depended on this decision for him to see it clearly.

"We cannot throw him to the Void," he said, startling many of them. He gave a wry smile. "To hand him back to one who has tormented him so badly, knowing that he would most likely be treated in the same manner would be inexcusable." He could see when Manwë made his decision, because the number of paths the future could take dropped markedly. But Námo kept his gaze on Aulë.

The Vala looked conflicted. He had been deeply hurt by Mairon's betrayal, and Námo knew that he doubted that Sauron would be able to actually change his ways now. But Aulë had loved the young Maia, and did hope that he would be able to find redemption.

All of this only took a second, and Manwë was addressing Námo.

"Then you are supporting Frodo Baggins in this matter?" Manwë asked. Námo mentally sighed, trying to figure out how to respond.

"I am not advocating any position, and will fully support you, whether you choose to send Sauron back to Middle-earth or to leave him in my care for the rest of time. However, while he is in my care, I will help him heal."

"And if I do choose to have him return to Middle-earth?" Manwë asked.

"Then he will still need time to recover from what he endured tonight," Námo answered. "Forcing anything at this time will only result in further damage to his psyche."

Manwë nodded, then gave Námo a wry look. "And yet you say nothing of your actions if I should choose to send him to the Void."

Námo returned Manwë's gaze with equanimity. "You have already made that decision," he said quietly.

"Then you see it?" Manwë asked. Námo frowned.

"Yes and no," he said slowly. "There are still many outcomes that may occur. Nothing is yet certain about Sauron's ultimate fate."

"But the decision at hand is whether we choose to leave him in Mandos until the end of Arda, or return him to Middle-earth," Ulmo stated. "So which do we choose?"

"Do we know why Frodo wishes for Sauron to return to Middle-earth?" Yavanna asked.

"Not for certain," Irmo stated. "Do we wish to call him back to ask?"

"I, for one, would be interested in hearing his reasons," Yavanna answered.

Manwë nodded. "Then we will send for both Frodo and Finrod before we make the final decision as to Sauron's fate."

The Valar decided that it would be best to limit the number of times Frodo came to Aman. Tol Eressëa was one thing, but Aman was perilous to mortals. So they decided to summon Frodo and Finrod when Sauron would wake up, in the hope that they could reach a decision and render Sauron's judgement without Frodo having to make another trip to the mainland.

It was sometime before Sauron began to stir, but when he did Námo was in his cell almost instantly. The Maia shifted, then blinked, focusing on his surroundings. He glanced around, eyes alighting on the black clad figure of the Lord of Mandos. Sauron dropped his gaze, embarrassed by how he had lost control of himself the night before. At least, he hoped it was the night before.

"How long have I been asleep?" he asked softly.

"Nearly a month," Námo replied, moving closer and scooping up the Maia, blankets and all. Sauron instinctively stiffened, then relaxed. Námo had been hoping for the display of trust, small though it was. Sauron was going to have to do a good bit of healing before he would be strong enough to return to Middle-earth, and it would take longer if he distrusted and feared Námo.

"Has…have I missed anything?" the Maia asked, trying for nonchalance and failing. Námo shook his head.

"Your fate has not yet been decided," the Vala said, knowing what Sauron was truly asking. Sauron nodded, but tensed, curling in on himself slightly.

"Will," he started, barely audible. He swallowed, and tried again. "Will you at l-least give me t-time to heal before you th-throw me to the V-Void? I d-don't want to have t-to face…him…l-like this."

Námo instinctively tightened his hold on the Maia upon hearing the sick terror in his voice.

"Hush, child," he whispered to the now shaking Maia in his arms. "We are not going to throw you to the Void. To do so would make us no better than Melkor." Sauron buried his head in Námo's chest and made no answer, though the shaking slowed slightly.

Vala and Maia sat like that until Sauron stopped shaking altogether. Then Námo softly brushed back Sauron's hair. The Maia pulled back just enough to look Námo in the face.

"We've summoned both Finrod Felagund and Frodo Baggins," Námo said. "We hope to reach a decision as to you fate today. We will summon you if we do so." He gently tugged Sauron to his feet. "Make yourself presentable," he said. Sauron nodded, not looking at the Vala. Námo rested a hand briefly on the Maia's shoulder, and then thought himself to the Máhanaxar.

He was the last to arrive. Indeed, he cut it fairly close, Frodo and Finrod were already visible. Námo mentally shrugged. If he had been late, they would have merely assumed it to do with the management of his halls—and they would have been right, though not how they were thinking.

The duo drew close to the Máhanaxar and bowed. Manwë turned to Frodo.

"You are still certain in your opinion as to Sauron's fate?" he asked the hobbit. Frodo nodded firmly.

"I am," he said simply. Manwë turned to Finrod.

"And you still yield to Frodo in this matter?" he asked the elf.

"I do, my lord," he replied. Manwë nodded, then turned back to Frodo.

"We have found that we are inclined to agree with your decision," he explained, "but we are curious as to what motivation lies behind it." Frodo shrugged.

"I have long been inclined to mercy," Frodo began slowly, "and more recently, I have found that I cannot help but extend it even to those who have hurt me."

"Why?" asked Yavanna.

Frodo sighed, looking down. And then he looked up, and more than one of the Valar were surprised by the self-hate that swirled in that cerulean gaze.

"Because I failed," he said, in a harsh voice. "I failed, and the only reason the world was saved was because of Mercy." His legendary stubbornness became dominate in his gaze as he pinned the Valar with an intense look.

"Having received mercy myself, how can I refuse it to anyone?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Námo blinked, the only indication he gave as the future snapped into place. Sauron's ultimate fate was still uncertain; too much depended on the Maia's choices for him to be able to see it. But Sauron would return to Middle-earth. And…That would work nicely. Námo knew to keep that little insight to himself.

Manwë glanced across the Ring of Doom, catching Námo's gaze. Námo raised an eyebrow, answering Manwë's unasked question.

Manwë nodded. "Summon him," he said softly. It was Námo's turn to give a single nod, as he gave a mental command to two of the Maiar in his service. Within seconds, Sauron appeared, flanked by two guards.

Námo mentally frowned. Sauron's eyes were perfectly blank, his face totally impassive. He moved gracefully to the center of the Ring and knelt, staring at his knees.

Frodo examined him thoughtfully. Compared to the last time he had seen him, Sauron seemed…defeated. Something had happened. He wondered if he asked, would the Valar tell him?

"Sauron, you have been the enemy of the Free People of the West for the past two Ages, and the Lieutenant of our fallen brother, the enemy of us all since the beginning of Eä. By your own admission, you crimes have been many and heinous. Yet we have recently learned there were mitigating circumstances." Manwë was silent for a moment.

"It has been decided that we agree with Frodo Baggins as to what your fate will be."

Sauron's shoulders tensed, but his face remained absolutely still, revealing nothing.

"You shall be granted a second chance; to return to Middle-earth and to heal the hurts you have wrought there."

"Wait, what?!"

Well, thought Námo, amused, that got a reaction out of him.

Sauron head had shot up at that, staring at Frodo, completely incredulous. Gone was the emotionless mask. Then realizing how that sounded, he blushed slightly, a faint staining of his cheeks the only color to his face. He raised his right hand and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Don't misunderstand; I am grateful," he said. "But…" He dropped his hand and looked again at Frodo.

"Why?" he asked, confusion written clearly on his face. Frodo sighed.

"Why is it that is the first question everyone asks?" he said.

"Because it's quite frankly the last thing anyone expects," Sauron said bluntly, a bit of the personality he'd shown when he first arrived in Mandos emerging. Frodo shot him an unamused look.

"After receiving mercy myself, I find I cannot deny it to another," he said simply. Sauron gave him a measuring glance. There was more to that answer than stated, he was sure of it. Frodo caught it, and continued.

"When was the last time you granted mercy?" he asked. Sauron dropped his head, again staring at his knees. But Frodo didn't stop there.

"And when was the last time you were granted mercy yourself?" Sauron's gaze slid sideways, looking away from Frodo.

"Just now," he answered softly.

"And before that?" Frodo continued. Sauron again dropped his head. He might have received mercy if he had begged forgiveness after the War of Wrath, but as to actually receiving it…had it been so long that he truly couldn't remember?

Frodo nodded to himself, the expression on the Maia's face confirming to him again that he was making the right decision.

"We can't send him back to Middle-earth alone," Finrod spoke up, thinking in practicalities. "Too many hate him. T'would be like throwing a lamb to a starving warg." Sauron shot him a very strange look at that analogy. Manwë raised an eyebrow.

"Are you offering to go with him?" he asked. Finrod shrugged.

"I would, but you've already told me I will not return to Middle-earth. Besides, while the elves would listen to me, ordinary men wouldn't be likely too. To them, I am simply a legend."

Frodo nodded. "It was a shock to many in Minas Tirith when Lord Elrond arrived. They were suddenly forced to realize that the tales of the First Age were more than just legends, when the son of Eärendil and Elwing showed up in their city."

Finrod gave Frodo a speculative look. Frodo met it evenly. "Yes, most would listen to me," he said softly. "But it's the ones who won't that concern me. I could not physically stop them." He shrugged self deprecatingly. "I am only a hobbit."

"Yes, but as I found out recently, it is rather foolish to underestimate hobbits," Sauron muttered. Frodo gave him an unreadable look.

"It was not me who threw your Ring into the fire," he said softly. Sauron blinked. Was that what had been behind Frodo's earlier statement?

"No, but your friends—"

"Cousins," Frodo interrupted. "All but Sam, who was with me." Sauron nodded.

"Cousins, then. They were remarkably good at messing up a large number of my plans. And you got farther than I'd expected anyone to be able to. As for actually throwing the Ring in… Well, I can't say for certain, because you hobbits have turned out remarkably resilient to Its power; but as far as I know, no one in Middle-earth could have destroyed It."

Frodo raised an eyebrow at Sauron, who shook his head.

"I couldn't," he admitted. "I poured the greater part of my power into It…which was rather stupid in hindsight. I was just as enslaved to It as anyone who came in contact with It. The only difference was that It was technically a part of me."

Frodo stood frozen. It was one thing for Gandalf, or Aragorn, or Elrond to tell him he'd done all he could do. It was another for the maker of the Ring to say the same. Could it be true? No, he had failed. Frodo shoved the confusing, conflicting emotions to the back of his mind. He had other things to worry about at the moment.

"There's also the fact that even without the Ring, you still almost managed to take control of Middle-earth," Finrod pointed out dryly. Sauron raised an eyebrow.

"Its easier than you think," he said, in the same tone. "All you need to know is what to say, what to promise…even if they don't trust you, you can get them to do what you want."

"Which is kind of my point," Finrod agreed. "There will need to be restrictions on what you can do, as well as a way of stopping you if you do decide to revert to your old ways."

Sauron shrugged. "That's probably a good idea," he said. "I can promise anything here, but if I end up failing, that won't mean anything."

"So…another problem we have to solve," Finrod mused. Sauron looked at Frodo.

"Are you sure you don't want to change your mind and have them throw me in a cell? It would be much easier," he said, only half joking.

Frodo smiled, a surprisingly sly smile.

"I'm sure. What's the point of that? You get neither a chance at redemption, nor any form of punishment for what you've done. Sending you back to Middle-earth is both. You will have to work at repairing the damage you did, which won't be easy, but in return, you actually get the chance to change."

Sauron looked torn between disbelief and admiration.

"So your revenge is your mercy," he mused. "That's…" Words seemed to fail him. He shook his head. "And here you look so innocent."

Frodo just smirked.

"What sort of restrictions do you feel are needed?" Manwë asked Finrod.

"No Singing," Finrod answered instantly. Sauron raised an eyebrow.

"Hmm…He shouldn't be able to conceal himself," Finrod continued.

"That's fairly broad," Frodo objected. "There could be times he legitimately needs to conceal himself. And how do you define that? Anytime he walks behind a rock?"

"Ah," Finrod said. "I see your point. Well, the ability to conceal himself by shifting form at the least. The more mundane ways shouldn't be a risk." Frodo nodded in agreement.

"He shouldn't be able to acquire power…" Finrod mused.

"Again, too broad," Frodo objected. "If he eventually gains trust he's going to gain power. That's just a fact of life. No, we don't want him taking over the world, but that isn't going to work." He paused.

"No making objects of power," he said. Sauron snorted.

"No worries there. That wasn't my wisest move…And I do learn from my mistakes," he said.

"No amassing an army," Finrod added.

"An army solely under his control," Frodo amended. "If he's raising an army for, say, Aragorn, that would be fine."

The hobbit and the elf lord stared at each other. "I can't think of anything else," admitted Frodo. Finrod nodded.

"There is always the danger that someone will know who he is, and *still* choose to listen to him, but I don't see how we can ward against stupidity," Finrod said.

"I suppose we could add that trying to take over the world isn't allowed," Frodo said cheekily.

"Alright then," Finrod said with a grin. "No taking over the world, no Singing, no magical concealment, no creating objects of power, and no making a private army."

Manwë looked amused. "We cannot keep him from doing any of those, for they are simply part of his nature," he cautioned the two. Frodo nodded.

"It's probably better that way," Frodo said. "Being able to do something, but not, is the way to show he's changed."

"So, we need some way to enforce these rules," Finrod mused.

"That is something we will work on," Varda said. "It does not need to be figured out tonight."

"And will Frodo go with him back to Middle-earth?" Finrod asked.

Manwë looked at Frodo. "It is up to you," he said. Frodo slowly nodded.

"I will. But the anniversaries…" he trailed off.

"The effects will be less than they were before," Estë assured him.

"And when Sauron gains a permanent protector, you may again sail." Námo said suddenly. Manwë glanced at Námo, who merely raised an eyebrow.

"So be it," Manwë said. "When you are deemed ready Sauron, you will return to Middle-earth with Frodo Baggins, to attempt to repair the damage you have caused there. You will be prohibited from attempting to dominate those you come in contact with, something we will insure."

Sauron dipped his head in acknowledgement. This had gone on too long, Námo thought. His golden eyes were dull, and he had begun to shiver slightly. Silently he commanded his Maiar to take him back to his cell. They flanked the kneeling Maia and assisted him to stand. Finrod and Frodo had bowed, and begun to leave. Frodo looked back, and caught Sauron stumble when he gained his feet. He paused. The three Maiar disappeared, leaving only the Valar. He turned back.

"My Lord?" he said softly. "If I may ask, why did you agree with me? You mentioned mitigating circumstances, and tonight he seemed…defeated. Tired."

Manwë looked at him, but it was Námo who answered. "When you mentioned that none knew of his motives, we examined his memories. Unfortunately, this also lead to him reliving many of them." Námo paused. "He had been rather brutally mistreated and tortured by Morgoth, which had distorted the way he saw the world, leading him to make some of the choices he did."

Frodo nodded. "I thought there must have been something like that," he said simply.

Námo looked at Frodo curiously. "I know you are tired of answering this question, but why?" he asked.

"The Ring," Frodo answered simply. "There was hatred, and darkness, and seduction, but there was also fear. And pain. Those emotions had to come from somewhere." With that surprising statement, he bowed again, and turning around, followed after Finrod.

"Well," Námo finally commented, "this will be interesting."