Chapter 5
It was Irmo who figured out the solution. He proposed to link Sauron to another Maia, one who could keep an eye on him. He, Námo, and Estë debated the ramifications and specifics of such a bond, and finally agreed it was a good idea. Manwë proposed that it should be Eönwë who held the other end of the bond, and that was accepted as well. But when it was proposed that the link should be put in place right away, Námo flatly refused. Irmo continued to debate it, until Námo dragged him off and the Fëanturi had a conversation the other Valar didn't even pretend to understand. After that, Irmo agreed with his older brother.
And so the years passed. At first, Sauron did little more than sleep. But gradually, as he grew stronger, the Maia began to grow bored. When Námo walked in and found Sauron putting his cot back together after having taken it apart, simply because it was something to do, Námo began to supply the Maia with books, and the occasional odd repair job.
Sauron was engrossed in one of the latter, skillfully diagraming with a silverpoint stylus. He was so involved in what he was doing that he missed the door of his cell opening.
"Sauron," It was Námo. "You have a visitor."
Sauron twisted around and looked up from where he was sitting on the floor, sketchbook in his left hand, stylus in his right. Námo was there with a fëa; a fëa of a hobbit. Taken aback, Sauron glanced at Námo, who simply stood there dispassionately. Sauron looked back at the hobbit, who could only be one individual. What was he supposed to say? Why had Bilbo even come here?
The silence stretched longer than was comfortable. Sauron desperately tried to find something to say. All intelligent remarks seemed to escape him, and simply demanding 'what are you doing here?' was remarkably rude.
"Well, after looking for you for years, the last thing I expected was for you to come looking for me," he finally said. Perhaps not exactly what the situation called for, but he honestly couldn't think of anything else to say. The hobbit caught the irony though, and gave him a wry smile.
"Yes, I never expected to be here either," Bilbo said. Again the silence began to stretch.
"So…not to be rude, but…why are you here?" Sauron finally asked, still feeling horribly confused by the whole situation.
Bilbo actually grinned at that. In fëa, he looked like he had just come of age, and the Tookish side of his personality was evident in his rather mischievous looking smile.
"I wanted to talk to you," he said, still grinning. Sauron simply kept looking at him. That was no answer at all, and if he wanted to talk, he could go right ahead. The grin got bigger.
"Well, actually, I wanted to meet you," Bilbo continued. "I heard a little bit from Frodo, but I got the feeling he didn't tell me much trying not to upset me."
Sauron realized he had unconsciously raised the sketchbook he had been holding to chest, using it like a shield. He forced himself to lay it down beside him, placing the stylus on it just so. Then he twined his hands together in his lap, to keep them out of trouble. Seated on the floor as he was, he was eye level with the hobbit, which was decidedly odd. Bilbo's sharp eyes had followed his movements, and Sauron had the uncomfortable feeling that the now dead hobbit caught a good deal more than the Maia would have liked.
"Its actually about Frodo that I wanted to talk to you," Bilbo finally said, grin fading from his face. Sauron looked away.
"You nephew…cousin…just how are the two of you related anyway?" Sauron asked, looking back at Bilbo, curiosity gleaming in his golden eyes. Bilbo's grin returned.
"We are first and second cousins, once removed each way," Bilbo said. "But he has always called me Uncle, and I have always called him my nephew, so that form of address will work too." Sauron blinked.
"Right," he said. Bilbo's grin again faded.
"I always loved him so," he said quietly. "but he wasn't like me; he loved the Shire more than adventure. He never would have left if it weren't for me." He broke off, shaking his head slightly. "I wish I'd never left him the Ring."
"For what it's worth, I wish I'd never made the thing," Sauron said softly. Bilbo looked up, an odd gleam in his eye.
"What would you change?" he asked. Sauron paused for a moment.
"Truthfully? If I had known what would happen I would had never left the Timeless Halls." Sauron said frankly. "I could have saved myself, and the world, a good deal of fear and pain." Bilbo gave him a searching look that Sauron returned evenly. Bilbo nodded.
"Frodo blames himself, you know," Bilbo said conversationally. Sauron frowned.
"I'd gotten that feeling," he admitted. "but I don't understand. Surely he has been told that even getting the Ring to the Fire was more than almost anyone could have done, and as for throwing it in…" he shrugged. "Well, I know of no one who could have." Bilbo nodded again.
"You're right. He did all he could, and has been told that, many, many times. But he still doesn't believe it." Bilbo moved forward, looking Sauron in the eye. The Maia instinctively shrank back slightly, causing the Hobbit to pause for just a moment.
"I know you will have assignments to fulfill from the Valar. But I have one for you as well." Bilbo leaned forward slightly. "You may be the only one who can convince my lad that he didn't fail. And I want you to do so."
Sauron sat there, slightly stunned.
"I have no idea if I will be able to do that or complete any of the tasks the Valar will set for me," he admitted in a soft voice. "But…I give you my word that I will try." Bilbo smiled.
"Really, that's all anyone can ask," he said. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going on yet another adventure." With that statement, and a surprisingly engaging grin, the hobbit left. Sauron simply sat there, thinking about Bilbo's last statement. It was a long time before he again took up the sketchbook.
It was not long after Bilbo had passed beyond the circles of the world that Námo finally decided that Sauron was strong enough to withstand being linked to Eönwë. Sauron had been filled in on the plan, and he felt it was sensible, though he harbored a few reservations.
"This is going to hurt, isn't it?" Sauron drawled. Námo gave him an amused look.
"Probably," he allowed. "It would not cause any discomfort under normal circumstances, however, these are anything but. Also, with as damaged as your fëa still is, it increases the likelihood that it will."
Sauron rolled his eyes. "Of course it will," he muttered. "Everything else has, why should this be any different?"
Námo felt that Sauron had a valid point, but said nothing, instead thinking them both to the Máhanaxar. There Námo assumed his throne, and Sauron moved to the center of the ring, though this time he remained standing.
Manwë looked at him gravely.
"Sauron Gorthaur, by your own admission, your crimes have been many and heinous. Yet because of the circumstances of your choice to serve our fallen brother, and because those whom you have most injured plea for us to grant you mercy, you shall return to Middle-earth to remit the damage you have inflicted.
"You shall: lower the numbers of the dark creatures that increased under your attempted rule of Middle-earth, see the rebuilding of the major cites of Gondor and Arnor unless it is decided that they shall never be rebuilt, see a peaceful succession upon the throne of Gondor and Arnor, protect the reign of the Heir of Eärendil until that occurs, and undo the damage to the nations that were under your control as self-styled ruler of Middle-earth.
"To insure that you do not fall into your old ways, you will not be permitted to use your natural powers as a Maia, specifically those of changing your form and Singing. Also, you shall be connected with Eönwë, and should at anytime you fail to abide by our strictures, or again attempt to dominate Middle-earth, you shall be summarily sentenced to the Void. You may take as long as necessary to complete these tasks, but this is your last chance at redemption. Failure or abandonment, either by flight or death will end this mercy, and you will be sent to the Void."
Sauron stood there, eyes not truly seeing anything. An almost hopeless panic began to fill him. Reduce the increase in the dark creatures he had caused? Undo the damage he'd done to the countries that had been under his control? To accomplish all required of him would be almost impossible…
He took a deep breath, pushing the panic back with Ages of practice. He fought the urge to wrap his arms around himself, and raised his eyes to meet Manwë's, giving a brief, sharp nod.
Most of the Valar then departed, leaving only Námo and Irmo. Eönwë came forward, but Sauron didn't meet his eyes. The process was briefly explained to both Maiar, and Sauron silently re-agreed with his earlier belief: this was going to hurt. He knelt, eyes still fixed on the ground. Eönwë knelt as well, knee to knee with Sauron, a concerned look on his face directed at his fellow Maia, though Sauron didn't see it, not raising his head.
Námo moved behind Sauron, taking the Maia in his arms. He needed to guide the placement of the bond, to make sure that it followed the parameters he, Estë, and Irmo, had decided on. Irmo stood behind Eönwë, placing his hands on the Maia's shoulders, to do the same there.
Námo quietly monitored the Maia in his arms. Sauron's heart rate was up, adrenaline flooding his system in the anticipation of pain. His breathing was deliberately controlled, however, leaving him showing almost no physical signs of his anxiety.
Námo nodded at Eönwë, who raised his hands, placing his fingers on Sauron's temples. Sauron closed his eyes at Eönwë's gentle touch, and his heart rate again accelerated.
The type of bond Irmo had proposed was not that much more than a bond that would naturally exist between siblings, though it was modified on Eönwë's end so he would be aware of Sauron doing anything he had been forbidden to do. It normally would not hurt either participant. However, the bond had to placed deeply with the fëa: and Sauron's fëa did not take it well when the bond tried to attach itself to raw spiritual wounds. His back arched, and he nearly jerked out of Eönwë's hold as the bond tightened.
At the same time Námo pulled Sauron's memories of his accustom fána to the fore, and let the form he had created shift. Since a Ainu's form was their own creation, wounds that left an imprint on the psyche often became permanent part of their fána, so Sauron's accustom form had many more scars than the one Námo had created. But Námo could tell the young Maia actually felt more comfortable in the skin he was used to, though he was still in a large amount of pain from the bond.
Eönwë was fine, except that he was receiving the backlash of Sauron's emotions, and becoming distressed by the pain the other Maia was going through. Námo continued to both guide the placement of the link as well as stabilize and finalize Sauron's form. Finally, both were finished, and Sauron stilled, pain yet etched on his features, eyes unfocused.
"Are you alright?" Eönwë asked, concerned. Sauron blinked, meeting the gaze of his fellow Maia for the first time. He opened his mouth, fully intending to say he was fine. But he stopped. He had been lying for ages. No more.
"No," Sauron admitted. "But…I think I might just be able to be, eventually." Eönwë suddenly reached out and grabbed Sauron by the back of his neck, pulling him close enough for Eönwë to press a kiss to his forehead. Then he pulled back enough to look the surprised Sauron in the eye, his own eyes fierce and warm.
"Good, Mairon," he whispered. "Good."
Sauron's own gaze was soft, and unusually vulnerable, as that small seed of hope that had sprouted against his will began to grow. The realization that there were those who actually cared about him, and wanted him to succeed in this seemingly impossible venture he was about to undertake gave him the belief that maybe, just maybe, he would be able to accomplish it.
A small, tentative smile spread over his face, as a warmth he'd not known in ages spread through him. Exhausted, but content, he curled further into Námo's arms, Eönwë's hands warm through the thin material of his shirt, gently but firmly gripping his forearms. Feeling safer than he had since leaving the Timeless Halls, Sauron drifted off to sleep with a soft, peaceful sigh.