Sorry, I meant to have this up yesterday, but it was the first day of classes for me, and I was busy.
Chapter Two
Sauron mostly slept for the next few days, his body regulating its resources into the healing process. As he grew stronger, he began to take more notice of his surroundings. He also regained his voice, though it was rough, and he didn't speak much.
Beren grew quieter as well, as he became more and more unable to ignore the presence of the Maia. Lúthien noticed this, but didn't know how to overcome it, and resigned herself to starting any and all conversation.
Tension continued to grow until its eventual explosion seemed inevitable.
"Beren, stop. Just…stop. Please." Lúthien finally snapped, exasperated, as her husband had done nothing but glare at Sauron all afternoon.
"I was unaware I was doing anything," Beren said stiffly.
"You know what you were doing. Can you at least attempt to show some compassion?" Lúthien continued.
"I would be happy to do so, if anyone here merited it," Beren retorted.
Sauron fidgeted uncomfortably as Beren and Lúthien continued to argue, their voices rising in both intensity and pitch. He wished he was almost anywhere but here, being forced to listen to an argument over him.
"You're blinded by your hate, Beren. What will it take for you to see beyond your stubborn preconceived notions?" Lúthien argued.
"You weren't there!" Beren shouted back. "You didn't have to sit there and listen as your companions were killed and eaten, knowing you were helpless to do anything to save them. If you had been, you would not be so forgiving. If you had to watch as some one you greatly admired died for you, you would hate him as much as I do!"
Beren and Lúthien stared at each other, both still clearly incensed, before Lúthien turned and stalked off down the stream that flowed by the small clearing. Beren stared after her for a moment, before turning around and heading upstream. Sauron was left in the clearing alone, deeply uncomfortable, mind working frantically. Coming to a decision, he grabbed a twig and began to scratch a message deep into the dirt.
I am most grateful for your help, he wrote, but I am fully aware that my presence is unhelpful. I am mostly healed by now, and will continue on my way.
Dropping the twig, he struggled to sit up, and quickly turned a nearby branch into a makeshift crutch. Using it with his right arm, he struggled to his feet, and headed out of the small camp.
Every step was agony: he was unable to use his left arm to support himself, which made it impossible to avoid putting some weight on his right leg. Said arm hurt as well, swinging useless. And he generally ached all over, as his abused muscles did not like the idea of moving at all.
But he had to. He had seen firsthand the strength of Beren and Lúthien's love, and he knew driving a wedge in it, even if only by his mere presence, was a bad idea. It would cement Beren's hatred of him, and would in time turn Lúthien against him as well. He was grateful for their help, as he had no idea what he would have done without them, but he had overstayed his welcome.
So he continued his pain-filled trek, traveling aimlessly. He knew he was leaving a clear trail, but had no way to conceal it. Besides, it wasn't like anyone was coming after him. Finally, nearing the limits of his strength, which was greatly reduced at the moment, he found a small stream. It didn't deserve the name, more of a trickle than anything, but it was enough to drink from. Looking around, he spotted a large, ancient tree all covered with some kind of creeper. More interestingly, at least to him, was the cubby-like indent between partially exposed roots.
As carefully as he could, he moved over to the tree and curled up. He fit nicely. His eyes closed, as he gave in to pain and exhaustion. Yavanna, if you bore any love for the one who once served your husband, let me rest in safety here, just for one night…he prayed, as he drifted to sleep.
Beren sighed, calming down as he settled on a tree root over looking the stream. He was still extremely displeased over the situation, but yelling at his wife was inexcusable. She had given up everything for him, and he would do well to remember that. He would need to apologize. Maybe he would pull her aside, away from that Maia, and talk to her. Maybe he could convince her that they had done enough. After all, they had aided that Maia enough that he should be able to take care of himself. Beren would feel so much better when they were away from him.
With that plan in his mind, he headed back downstream. Knowing approximately where Lúthien had gone, he avoided the clearing entirely, not wanting the sight of that Maia to damage his fragile hold on his temper, and the determination to speak calmly and logically to his wife.
He picked up her tracks with difficulty, as like with all her kind she stepped incredibly lightly. He briefly again wished Huan was still with them. He would have found her in an instant. But as it turned out he didn't need to use his tracking skills, as he heard her singing. Quickly and quietly, he followed the sound of her voice to the edge of the stream, where he found her sitting on a boulder half in the water, staring at a small eddy in the current.
He winced internally at the preoccupied expression on her face, but stepped forward anyway. She looked up and met his eyes, her own face perfectly blank.
"Tinúviel…" he said. "I'm sorry, love. I shouldn't have yelled at you."
"No, you shouldn't have," Lúthien retorted, but her face softened. Beren sighed.
"It's just…You know that I still dream of those dungeons. He still haunts my nightmares, and having him so close…I'm losing my mind, love. I can't do it." Lúthien stood up and walked over to him, taking his hand.
"I know, love. I watch your hatred and your fear; I watch it destroy you, and I can't do anything about it. I'm sorry that this is so hard for you, but when I look at him, I don't see the monster you do. I see someone who is a victim of this war just as much as the rest of us."
"I know, Tinúviel," Beren said. "But every time I try to see it your way, I remember Finrod, and those who had come with us, and…" he trailed off.
Lúthien hugged him. "It will just be a bit longer, not more than a week," she assured him gently. "Can you stay that long?" Beren nodded.
"For you, love," he said. She looked at him with a serious expression.
"And will you at least try to see him differently?" she asked. Beren sighed.
"I will try, though I'm not very optimistic about my success there," he said. Lúthien nodded, taking his hand as they walked back to the clearing.
Like the first time they stumbled upon the glade, they froze, though this time because it was unoccupied. Lúthien pulled Beren over to where Sauron had been, and she sighed in exasperation as they read the note he had left in the dirt.
Beren sighed as well, and gently untangled his fingers from Lúthien's.
"I'll go get him," he told her. "He can't have gone far; walking must be extremely painful for him." Lúthien nodded.
"I'm surprised he managed it at all," she admitted. Beren smiled at her.
"Well then, I shouldn't be long," he said, and left the clearing, following the distinct trail that the Maia had left.
Even though his footprints were clear, if Beren hadn't been a fairly good tracker, he would have missed Sauron. Curled up in between the roots of a massive tree, he was covered with the plant that grew around the trunk of the tree, almost as if it were a blanket. Beren shook his head at that fanciful thought.
He pushed the plants carefully off of the Maia, studying his features as he did so. They were taut and etched with pain–unsurprising, as Lúthien had told him he needed to stay off of his broken leg for at least another week. Huffing, he began to lift the Maia to pull him over his shoulders. It would jar the Maia, but Beren could see no other alternative.
He froze in surprise when he began to lift him, for Sauron whimpered, golden eyes fluttering open weakly.
"It's just me," Beren said, hoping his voice was even. It didn't seem to reassure the Maia, but he was too exhausted and weak to resist as Beren hauled him over his shoulders, which was not the easiest thing to do with only one hand. Beren knew he jostled the broken bones, even though he tried not to, and while Sauron's breath hitched, the Maia didn't make a sound otherwise. Finally, he had him settled, and set off for the camp. He was uncomfortably aware of the Maia's heartbeat, breath, and warm weight.
The trip back was accomplished in silence; Beren had no breath to spare for talking, and he wasn't even sure if the Maia was still conscious. It turned out he was, though, as his eyes opened again after Beren entered camp, passing Lúthien, and laid him down where he had been before.
"S-sorry," Sauron choked out: between the damaged throat and the pain from moving, his voice was a weak rasp. Beren sighed as he met the tormented eyes of the being he most hated. While Morgoth had been the far more deadly foe, his encounter with him and Carcharoth, while painful, had been nothing compared to waiting in Sauron's dungeons for certain death, having to listen while his companions were killed and eaten. To Beren, that had been unforgivable.
And yet, was it not compassion that had been lacking in both Sauron and his master?Even after what he had done, did Sauron deserve what had been done to him? Does anyone? that little voice in his head whispered softly.
"I know," Beren said simply, pushing Sauron's hair out of his face. Compassion reluctantly tugged at his heart as Sauron almost imperceptibly leaned into the touch. He came to a decision, and gently scooped the Maia up in his arms.
"Let it out," he said softly. "You cannot keep it all inside forever."
Sauron stiffened, breath hitching. Then he collapsed noiselessly, shaking with silent sobs. He curled in on himself, desperately seeking comfort.
And Beren gave it. He stroked the dark hair and whispered meaningless reassurances. He remembered the last time he'd done so, when Hathaldir had mourned the loss of his home and family. It seemed that Lúthien was right: there were broken souls on both sides of this conflict. Beren had never thought like that before. In his mind, those who opposed him were wrong, and he was right.
And yet, those who opposed him were like him, in some indefinable way. They too had hopes and dreams, fears and demons who haunted their nights. Perhaps the world was not as clear-cut as he'd always held it to be.
It was humbling, to have to re-examine all the beliefs he'd held onto all his life, to let go of the hate he'd nurtured for so long. And yet, it was also amazingly freeing. He was not the only one who'd lost in this endless war. And he had gained beyond his wildest imagination, he thought with a quick glance at Lúthien.
Slowly, Sauron grew still, relaxing completely as he slipped into the realm of sleep. Beren studied the tear-stained features of the Maia as he sorted out his emotions. The hate was gone, replaced with compassion, and mercy, and perhaps just the beginnings of forgiveness.
Beren looked over to where Lúthien was watching him. He sighed. "I know, I know," he said. "But is it not compassion that separates us from the forces of Darkness?" He paused, glancing down at the sleeping Maia. "If he is so desperate for comfort that he will seek it from the hands of a man he knows hates him, then I would have to be as heartless as Morgoth to deny it."
Lúthien smiled and rose, walking over to Beren. She kissed him gently. "You're a good man, love." The approval in her voice and face made everything worth it to Beren.
As always, let me know what you think! Thank you to my reviews, and Maya, if you're reading this, I don't post my stories all at once, one: because I get more reviews if I string them out, and two: because I use the time while I'm posting to write the next story I'm working on. I've told myself I can't post unfinished stories, because I have one that's just been sitting there for a year now. I'm glad you liked it, and hope this chapter didn't disappoint!
Please review!