Chapter Three
Beren watched the sun rise beyond the trees. The light filtered only weakly into the darkness of this forest, but it was enough to see clearly by. He shook Sauron gently.
"Sauron?" he said softly. "Wake up." The Maia stirred slightly. Beren shook him again.
"It's morning," he continued. "Time to get up." Sauron stirred a bit more, and Beren had to stop himself from grinning at the petulant frown that crossed the Maia's face.
"Are you going to sleep the day away?" Beren asked, teasing now. "It's time to wake up!"
"Go 'way, Olórin," Sauron grumbled, trying to raise his left arm. The pain brought him fully awake, and his eyes finally flickered open.
"Oh," he said, realizing where he was. "Good morn."
"Good morn," Beren replied, still amused. "Who's Olórin?" A small, nostalgic smile touched Sauron's face.
"My…my brother," he said softly. "My older brother." Beren was shocked.
"You have a brother?" he asked incredulously. Sauron grinned.
"I have a little sister, too, but she never left the Timeless Halls," he said. Beren was still trying to comprehend the notion that Sauron, chief lieutenant of Morgoth, had siblings.
"Did your brother follow Morgoth as well?" Beren asked, curious. Sauron shook his head.
"He served Manwë when I left, and as far as I know, he still does," he said. "He was actually the one who discovered that I was serving Morgoth…He didn't take it very well." He sighed, smile sliding from his face. "He probably hates me."
Beren thought carefully before he spoke, something unusual for him. "I don't have any siblings," he began. "But I have known quite a few. And I cannot imagine that your brother hates you. He is probably disappointed in your choices, and wishes you had done differently, yes, but hatred is self-destructive, and I would guess that your brother mourns you rather than hates you." Sauron shrugged.
"I would deserve it if he hated me," he said softly.
"Would you? Would you really?" Beren asked without heat. "I'm not so sure, anymore." Sauron looked at him curiously.
"My hatred of you was born of fear," Beren told him. "When I no longer feared you, the hatred faded as well. Admittedly, it took me some time to realize that, but I'm better off for doing so."
"I'm not exactly intimidating at the moment," Sauron said with a quirky grin. For a second, Beren saw him as had been, witty and intelligent; full of life. Beren realized that he had ever only seen a jaded and broken shadow of what the Maia should have been. And with that recognition came forgiveness. He still mourned Finrod and his companions; but after all, he knew better than anyone else that death was nothing to be feared.
Beren laughed. "No, you're not," he agreed. He looked at Lúthien, trying to tell her with a wordless look that he was alright now. He had almost walked down the same path Sauron had, down one of hate and bitterness. But, contrary to most opinions, he could learn from mistakes, even those made by others.
Lúthien did catch the look, and silently rejoiced. The man she had met and fallen in love with had been still strangely innocent despite his trials. He had not been jaded and had still been giving, and that man had just returned.
"How long are you going to stay here?" Sauron asked, seemingly randomly. "I'm sure you have things you need to do, people to see, impossible feats to perform…why were you here in the first place, anyway?"
"Actually, we don't have anywhere we need to be," Beren said. "We came here because we heard rumors that something wasn't right in this part of the forest. Other than that, we're just wandering around, looking for a place to settle down. We didn't feel comfortable in Doriath anymore, since Lúthien is now mortal after our return from death–"
"Wait," Sauron broke in at that. "What?"
And so Beren and Lúthien told him about the later parts of their adventures. When they finished, Sauron sat there with raised eyebrows.
"Well, that's…unexpected," he finally said. Beren grinned.
"That probably sums it up nicely," he agreed.
"So what are your plans?" Lúthien asked Sauron. He shrugged, a jaded expression reappearing on his face.
"Staying as far away from Morgoth as I can until he calls again," he said.
"You're going to go back to him?" Lúthien asked, looking upset. Sauron sighed, helplessness written on his face.
"What choice do I have?" he asked. "I will never be free of him. And sometime in the future I too will end up twisted beyond recognition, a weapon to be used against the remnants of your people. I was simply fooling myself in thinking that I could ever avoid it."
"What of the Valar?" Lúthien asked.
"What of them?" Sauron replied. "The Valar will not harken to the prayers of mercy of the Noldor, and their crimes are far less than mine. No, there will be no help for me there. I lost any chance of that long ago."
"So what will you do?" Beren asked. Sauron shrugged.
"What I can," he replied. "Try to minimize the damage Morgoth inflicts. Delay the inevitable as long as possible. Hope beyond hope that one day he will fall, though it will be too late for me."
"I think that day will come," Lúthien said. "But when it does, I want you to take the chance of forgiveness if it is offered you, no matter how slim you think the hope of it might be. I think you may just find it." Sauron smiled sadly.
"I wish I could believe you," he said. "But I promise I will, though I do not see it coming to pass. I fear I am beyond redemption."
"Two days ago, I would have agreed with you," Beren said. "Now, I don't. And I'm fairly certain that if anyone would look past that mask you wear so well, they'll agree."
"But who will?" Sauron asked, almost rhetorically. "If you're right, it challenges everything most people believe. To see me as anything other than evil destroys the ability to see this war in clear cut terms. And when that capability fails, what else must be challenged?"
"A lot," Beren agreed. "But that's probably a good thing."
"Few actually want what's good for them," Sauron said. "Or, more accurately, they refuse to have a long term vision of what will be good for them in the future, and so take what looks the best in the moment."
Beren frowned, unable to dispute that. They sat in silence, not quite knowing what to say after that.
Now that the tension had faded from the camp, Sauron became a lot more vocal. Beren watched in amusement as he tried to convince Lúthien he was quite well enough to get up: something Lúthien flatly disagreed with.
But especially after the splints had come off his arm, he was ready to stand. Part of Beren sympathized with Sauron, but he knew better than to say so. Lúthien did not appreciate anyone disobeying her when it came to healing, as Beren had learned many times.
But finally the day came when Lúthien decided he could try standing. Only standing, she'd admonished him. Not walking. Beren caught the gleam in Sauron's eyes though, and got the feeling that once he could stand up, there were very few things that could keep him from trying to walk.
Beren offered Sauron a hand, which he took swiftly, and Beren pulled him to his feet. He swayed slightly, but stayed upright. He had been lying down or sitting for so long that Beren had forgotten his height. He was tall, but not as tall as Thingol, Beren noted with surprise. In fact, if Beren's memories were correct, he was about as tall as Finrod. Beren wondered why he hadn't noticed that before, then remembered that all the times he'd seen the two together Sauron had been standing on something higher.
Sauron let go of Beren's hand, and took a shaky step. Beren stepped back as Sauron began to stagger around the clearing.
"I believe I said 'stand', not 'walk'," Lúthien said, raising an eyebrow. "Not that what you're doing can really be called walking."
Sauron shot her an unrepentant grin, and kept going. Finally tiring, he sat down against the bole of a tree, stretching his right leg out, drawing the left one up. He shot Beren and Lúthien an exhilarated, if weary, grin. The conversation that night stayed light, not wanting to acknowledge the truth: now that Sauron was mostly healed, they would have to part ways soon.
That day came sooner than they would have wanted, but they knew they it was for the best. Morgoth could never learn what had happened here. Beren and Lúthien were planning to go south and east. Sauron wasn't sure where he was going to go.
"I may just continue haunting this forest for a while," he quipped.
But now that permanent separation was here, they were loth to face it. They knew they would never see each other again, unless it was beyond the end of the world. Strangely, they had become good friends in the short time they had known each other.
"Thank you for everything," Sauron said sincerely. "I can never repay you for what you've done."
"You are very welcome," Beren said firmly. "Believe me, you've helped us as well."
"Take care of yourself," Lúthien added. "And remember what I said about forgiveness." Sauron gave her a half-bow.
"I will not forget," he promised. "And I shall do as you say."
"Farewell," Lúthien said, taking Beren's hand.
"Goodbye," Sauron replied. They glanced back as they left, only glimpsing Sauron as a black shadow among dark trees. Beren knew that image would stay with him for a long time.
Sauron watched them go, hand in hand.
"Be well," he whispered.
Don't worry. It's not over yet. There's still four more chapters...
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