Chapter Four
Sauron moved through the crowd, ignoring the startled looks and instinctive clenching of sword hilts that his presence brought. He needed to find Eönwë. A promise given long ago was ringing in his ears. He had promised to seek even the faintest chance of forgiveness, so he would surrender, even if he doubted that he would receive mercy. It was all he could do to thank the two who had forgiven him, even though they had every right not to do so.
Ah, there was Eönwë! Sauron moved in closer, watching as the herald's eyes widened almost imperceptibly at his approach. Then those amber eyes grew wary, and Eönwë's hand crept towards the hilt of his sword. Quickly, Sauron knelt in the dusty paths that criss-crossed the encampment.
"Eönwë," he began, "I have come to surrender and beg forgiveness of you. I have long regretted my decision to turn in my allegiance to Morgoth, but by the time I realized my mistake, it was too late. Now, I find myself free for the first time in Ages. I have no desire to serve the Darkness any longer," he finished softly.
Silence fell, and Sauron waited for Eönwë to simply take his sword and remove Sauron's head from his shoulders, or call for more Maiar and bind him as they had Morgoth. That last one might actually be useful, Sauron mused, except that it would probably end with him in the Void as well. That was the most likely ending for all of this, Sauron admitted to himself.
Lost in his thoughts, it came as a shock when Eönwë reached out and pulled him to his feet. He met the amber eyes of his one-time good friend.
"Why are you doing this, Sauron?" Eönwë said, soft enough that the elves who had gathered to watch the little spectacle couldn't hear.
"I owe it to Beren and Lúthien," Sauron admitted, just as quietly. "I ran into them after they had returned to life–and they offered me mercy I certainly didn't deserve." He shrugged. "This is the only way I can even begin to repay them."
Eönwë stared intently into Sauron's eyes, though what he was looking for, Sauron didn't know. Then he sighed.
"I want to believe you," he said. "But I do not have the authority to pardon you. If you wish to be pardoned, you must return to Aman and receive justice from the Valar."
Sauron closed his eyes and swallowed hard. The justice of the Valar was his worst nightmare at the moment. He knew full well that his crimes condemned him. Still, it would simply be what he deserved.
"I will," he said. Eönwë's answering smile was relieved, and Sauron knew that his old friend was tired of the fighting, and wanted it to be over with. Well, it would be. Eönwë hadn't deserved to go through this horrendous war.
"You will have free movement of the camp," Eönwë assured him. "But for your own safety it may be wise to stay close to those who know you have surrendered." Sauron nodded briefly. Eönwë quickly squeezed the junction between Sauron's neck and shoulder, then turned and moved away. He had a lot to do in order to get every one back to Valinor, Sauron knew, but that left him there trying to distract himself from the thought of exactly what was awaiting him when they did return to the Blessed Realm.
After only about fifteen minutes, Sauron exhaled heavily. This wasn't working. He had always run away from pain whenever he could; telling himself he deserved this, and that he owed it to Beren and Lúthien wasn't going to keep him here. Annoyed, although he couldn't tell if it was towards Eönwë, Morgoth, himself, or the situation in general, he moved swiftly off to Eönwë's tent.
He reached it quickly, and found it guarded by a couple of Maiar. He assumed this was a new development, something that had happened after Maedhros and Maglor had…liberated...the Silmarilli.
"Is Eönwë here?" he asked the rather startled guards. They looked at each other, wide eyed, then one nodded.
"Is he busy? I need to speak with him," Sauron continued, annoyed by the rather frightened looks he was getting. They knew him, after all. Thankfully for all parties involved, Eönwë heard and came out of the tent.
"No, I'm not busy at the moment," he said. "What do you need?"
Sauron shot a meaningful glance at the other Maiar. "Can we talk in private?" he asked. Eönwë seemed startled, but nodded, and beckoned him inside.
Eönwë's tent was nice, but obviously catered more to military necessity than luxury, just a cot, a few trunks, and a large desk covered with papers. There was also a table in the corner that could be pulled out for larger planning meetings. Sauron took it all in quickly, then turned back to face Eönwë, eyeing the tent walls skeptically. Eönwë smiled.
"It's warded," he explained. "Someone inside can hear what goes on outside, but no one outside can hear in. Sauron nodded. This was going to be hard enough without anyone else involved. He took a deep breath, then let it out. He was uncomfortable with this whole thing. No, scratch that, he was terrified. Just say it.
"Eönwë, I need you to bind me," he said firmly and suddenly. Sauron didn't think he could have shocked Eönwë more if he'd tried.
"What? Why?" the startled Maia demanded. Sauron sighed, and turned, beginning to pace.
"Because I won't stay," he told the floor. "I'm…well, truthfully, I'm terrified, but I know that this is what I should do, and I owe it to them to do it, but I know that I won't–"
He was stopped, both in words and in movement, by a gentle hand on his arm. Eönwë had regained his composure, and was staring at Sauron with a mix of concern and compassion. Sauron just stared miserably at the other Maia.
"You're sure?" Eönwë asked softly. Sauron just nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Eönwë moved behind him, then stopped.
"Mairon…" he said. Sauron swallowed hard, closing his eyes.
"Please," he whispered. Eönwë sighed, and gently pulled Sauron's wrists around to his spine. As he did so, Sauron bowed his head, and his hair shifted to the side. The knee length robe he was wearing puckered in the back, leaving Eönwë, who was taller, with a clear view of the other Maia's back.
Eönwë froze. Then, with a harsh curse, he let go of Sauron's wrists, reaching around him for ties to the robe. Sauron's breath caught, and he tried to move away. Eönwë was faster, though, and quickly undid the ties and pulled the robe off. Sauron was left in leggings and boots. He shivered slightly in the cool air.
Eönwë stared in horror at the scars marring the other Maia's back, a curious combination of whip and burn scars. Then with another curse, he turned Sauron around.
There were more scars on his chest, but not as thickly concentrated as those on his back. Worse was the thick burn scar across his upper chest. It looked like a Balrog had wrapped an arm around him. Also visible were three sets of handprints along his arms.
Sauron dropped his head, biting his lower lip. Eönwë reached out and tipped Sauron's head up, until the shorter Maia was forced to meet his eyes. A mixture of helplessness and desperation swirled in those golden depths.
"Oh, Mairon," Eönwë whispered. He reached out and pulled Sauron into his embrace, anger and sadness warring in his heart when the other Maia stiffened. But then he relaxed, and rested his head on Eönwë's shoulder.
"I'm so tired, Eönwë," he whispered softly. Eönwë said nothing, but tightened his hold. This war had been so hard, fighting those of his brethren who had chosen to follow Melkor. They were twisted in both form and mind: beyond the chance of redemption. The victory had felt pyrrhic; they had not won. Too much had been lost. Morgoth had been humbled, and he would never again wage war upon Arda until the end of time, but nothing else save death and destruction had been accomplished.
Now Eönwë felt the war might just be worth it. Here was a chance to save, not destroy. He gently traced the handprints burned into Sauron's upper arm. He sighed.
"I wish you had never left," he whispered.
"I wish I had never left the Timeless Halls," Sauron whispered back, even softer.
"What happened, Mairon?" Eönwë asked.
"I lost Tol Sirion," Sauron said, painfully. "Morgoth was…beyond furious." Eönwë closed his eyes, anger and pain now combining dangerously.
"So he did this to you?" he asked. Sauron stiffened and hesitated.
"He...he ripped me apart and then threw me to Gothmog," he finally said, all in a rush. Anger won out in Eönwë's heart, as he suddenly fully understood and sympathized with the Noldor. Though Morgoth had been thrown beyond the Gate of Night, to never again return until the end of the world, it suddenly didn't seem like it was enough. Eönwë gently pulled Sauron over to the cot and sat him down, then settled next to his old friend.
"And how do Beren and Lúthien tie into all this?" he asked gently. Just briefly, Sauron smiled.
"They found me, only days later," he said. "They took care of me, though Beren truly didn't want to in the beginning…But they forgave me, something I still cannot understand. Lúthien made me promise that if there was even the chance of redemption I should take it. So I'm here." Eönwë gently brushed his hand though Sauron's dark hair.
"You may just find it," Eönwë assured him.
"I wish I could believe that," Sauron said. He looked up and met Eönwë's eyes. "I will run, Eönwë. You need to stop me. I…I'm tired of running."
"I will protect you, Mairon," Eönwë said fiercely. "Even from yourself." He gently pushed Sauron down.
"Now lay down," he ordered. Sauron looked confused as he complied and Eönwë proceeded to pull his boots off.
"Go to sleep," Eönwë said. "You need it, and we can talk more later." Sauron nodded, and closed his eyes.
Eönwë waited until he was asleep, then got up and moved to his desk. He still had to figure out how to get everyone back to Valinor, and hopefully the work would drive the memory of his friend's broken expression out of his mind.
As always, please review!