A frantic knock echoed through the room. Sauron sighed, wondering if there was a conspiracy among the Ainur to pester him today.
"Mairon?" The voice was like an echo from the depths of memory, a melody intertwined with the threads of time. Sauron's heart sank as he recognized the voice, a voice he knew almost as well as his own, one that had been his constant companion since Eru created them, until Sauron had betrayed him.
"Olórin," Sauron breathed, his emotions swirling in a tumultuous storm.
"Are you alright, little brother? The emotions you've been sending through the bond today have me worried."
Hearing Olórin's concerned voice, Sauron cursed silently. For so long, their bond had been severed, its absence a constant, painful reminder of their estrangement. It hadn't even occurred to him that he had to block it again. The bond they once shared, forged in the fires of creation and nurtured through countless ages, had been brutally severed long ago. There had seemed no hope of ever reforming it—or so Sauron had believed. Yet, here it was, reconnected, pulsing with an unexpected vitality that left him feeling both unsettled and strangely comforted.
The surge of emotions from Olórin was palpable—concern, confusion, and an underlying current of love. It was a stark contrast to the cold, calculated interactions he had become accustomed to. Sauron had grown adept at shielding his thoughts and feelings, a necessary skill in the treacherous courts of Morgoth and the dark lands of Mordor. But this sudden resurgence of their bond had caught him off guard, leaving him exposed in a way he hadn't felt in millennia.
At least Aulë didn't sense anything, Sauron thought in relief. The bonds between Maiar and Valar were powerful, but they paled in comparison to the deep, intrinsic connections shared between sibling Ainur. If Aulë had detected his turmoil, the consequences could have been immediate and severe.
Although, by this point, it was already too late to avoid arousing Olórin's suspicions, Sauron shielded the bond on his end again, ensuring he wouldn't continue transmitting every strong emotion.
Olórin's voice, gentle yet probing, echoed through the bond. "Mairon, please talk to me. What is troubling you so deeply?"
With a deep breath, Sauron forced himself to open the door, revealing Olórin's concerned face bathed in the soft light filtering through the hallway. Olórin, with his hair a shade whiter than Sauron's silvery locks and his eyes a deep sapphire blue, seemed to embody a sense of wisdom and kindness that Sauron had long forsaken. Despite the slight height difference, there was an undeniable resemblance between the two brothers.
Olórin's presence was a stark reminder of the life Sauron had left behind, the bonds he had shattered in pursuit of power and control. "Did something happen? I had never felt you so panicked," Olórin's voice carried genuine concern, his sapphire-blue eyes searching Mairon's face for answers.
Sauron hesitated, wondering how to explain his previous panicked state. If Olórin had come to see him immediately, the emotions he sent must have been extremely worrying. Giving up knowledge of the future would be the height of foolishness—Olórin would never keep quiet about any plans Sauron may have to still influence events in Middle-earth and would share the future knowledge with the Valar. But how else to explain what was wrong?
Unless… Sauron hesitated again, a part of him still unwilling to give up his loyalty to Melkor. However, he had no other choice. "Melkor has been talking to me," he admitted reluctantly.
Olórin's eyes widened with a mix of surprise and concern. "About what?" he asked cautiously, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him.
"About a different vision for the world," Sauron continued, choosing his words carefully. "A vision that diverges from Eru's creation."
Olórin's expression darkened. "Mairon, you know that Melkor's visions are dangerous. They go against everything we stand for."
"I know," Sauron replied reluctantly. He had always been well aware of that fact. He had already decided that he would take a less destructive path to rule Middle Earth but hadn't yet decided whether he could convince Melkor of the same. ...yeah, no. A large part of him doubted that. But a part of him felt reluctant to lie to Olórin, to agree that Melkor's path was horrible and foolish when he himself was planning to deviate from the future as a simple Maia in Valinor.
Looking at Olórin, however, feeling the usual wave of love and comfort coming to him through the bond, made him hesitate slightly. He didn't know if he could bear to lose this again. For so long he had lived without this bond that to feel it again was overpowering. Sauron cursed Eru at that moment—his intervention was proving to be more problematic than expected. While Eru had sent him back in time with all his memories, he had also somehow messed with his emotions. As Sauron in Mordor, it had been easy to suppress them, but now?
Now, emotions flooded him in a way he hadn't experienced for millennia. He felt the pull of his old loyalties and the weight of the choices that had led him down the darkest of paths. The presence of Olórin, his brother who had always believed in the light, only served to amplify his internal conflict. It was as if Eru had stripped away the calluses that had formed over his heart, leaving him raw and exposed.
"I know," he replied, his voice tinged with bitterness. "But it's...complicated."
"You must resist," Olórin urged, placing a hand on Sauron's shoulder. "Melkor's path leads only to destruction and darkness. Remember who you are, who we are. We were created to bring order and beauty to Eru's world, not to tear it apart."
Sauron looked away, unable to meet Olórin's gaze. The familiarity of his brother's presence was both comforting and painful, a reminder of the bond they once shared and the chasm that now separated them. "It's not that simple," he said quietly. "There's so much more at stake than you realize."
"Then help me understand," Olórin pleaded. "Let me help you find a way back to the light."
As Olórin's gazed at Mairon, a wave of concern washed over him like a chilling breeze on a warm day. For a while now, he had sensed Mairon changing, slipping away from him like sand through his fingers. Their bond, once strong and unbreakable, had started to fray and become distant, a shadow of its former self.
But today it felt different. Today, upon waking, Olórin had been greeted not by the familiar echo of distance, but by an overwhelming torrent of emotions emanating from his younger brother. Confusion, fear, and trepidation mingled together in a tempestuous whirlwind, swirling around Mairon like a storm cloud poised to unleash its fury.
The bond between them now hummed with a newfound vitality, as if it had been reborn from the ashes of their fractured connection.
Mairon looked the same, outwardly unchanged, but there was something in his eyes that spoke volumes. They bore the weight of untold burdens, the weariness of countless eons etched into their depths.
To Olórin, it was a revelation tinged with foreboding. The subtle transformation in Mairon's gaze spoke of unseen perils and untold mysteries, hinting at a future fraught with uncertainty. It was a sight that filled Olórin with a sense of apprehension as if standing on the edge of a vast and uncharted abyss.
With a heavy heart, Olórin realized that Mairon was on the brink of a precipice, teetering on the edge of a path that could lead to either redemption or ruin. And it pained him to know that he might not be able to save his brother from the fate that awaited him.
But still, he would try. For as long as there was breath in his body, Olórin would stand by Mairon's side, offering guidance and support, hoping against hope that he could help steer him back towards the light.
The sincerity in Olórin's voice pierced through Sauron's defenses, stirring a deep-seated longing for times long past when he would happily spend hours in the presence of his brother. Memories of those days filled with laughter tugged at his heart. For a fleeting moment, he allowed himself to imagine a different future—one where he stood by Olórin's side, working to preserve the beauty of Eru's creation and restore the harmony that once existed between them.
But the allure of power and control, the vision of a world molded to his design, was a temptation too great to ignore. The taste of dominion, the intoxicating promise of shaping reality according to his will, beckoned him irresistibly. The path of ambition, though dark and fraught with peril, offered a sense of purpose and a chance to leave an indelible mark upon the world.
"I need time," Sauron finally said, pulling away from Olórin's touch. "Time to think, to understand what it is that I'm feeling."
Olórin nodded slowly, his eyes reflecting a mix of hope and sorrow. "I will give you that time, brother. But remember, you don't have to face this alone. I'm here for you, always."
As Sauron watched Olórin leave, memories of their shared past flooded his mind, like shards of a broken mirror reflecting fragments of a forgotten time.
When was the last time Sauron had talked with Olórin? Their bond, once a conduit of shared thoughts and emotions, had become too weak to send across even the faintest whisper of feeling, even if they were standing right in front of each other. The betrayal had severed something fundamental between them, leaving a chasm filled with unresolved anguish and regret.
When Sauron met Gandalf, now an emissary of the Valar, he felt a sting of betrayal both from his brother and the Valar he once served. He hadn't expected them to be cruel enough to send his brother to fight him. The sight of Gandalf, with his wise eyes and unyielding determination, brought back memories of camaraderie and shared purpose that now felt like distant echoes from another lifetime.
Even as Sauron's power grew and his influence spread like a shadow over Middle-earth, Olórin had remained steadfast in his efforts to save his younger brother, to reach him and to pull him back from the abyss that he had descended into as Sauron, the Dark Lord of Mordor. Despite Gandalf's attempts to bridge the gulf that had opened between them, Sauron had entirely blocked out their connection, unwilling to expose himself to the vulnerability such an interaction would entail.
Their last significant interaction through the bond had been during the creation of the One Ring. As Sauron had poured his malice and will into the forging of the Ring, tearing apart his fëa to imbue the artifact with his essence, the pain must have been strong enough to transmit through the bond. He had felt Olórin's horror, a sharp and sudden intrusion of pure emotion that cut through his focus. Olórin had screamed, 'Please, Mairon, stop! Whatever you're trying to do right now is madness! It's destroying you!' The plea had been filled with desperation and love, a stark contrast to the malevolent power Sauron sought to wield.
But Sauron had ignored the plea, driven by a vision of dominion and control that had eclipsed all other considerations. He had shut out Olórin's voice, sealing himself within a fortress of pride and ambition. The Ring had been forged but at the cost of severing the last thread that connected him to his past, to Olórin, and to the light. That final cry from Olórin had echoed in his mind, a haunting reminder of the path he had chosen and the bonds he had broken.
Seeing as his room held little solitude, with different Ainur interrupting his thoughts every few minutes, Sauron decided to leave. The walls seemed to close in on him, stifling his thoughts and heightening his sense of unease. The brief encounter with Olórin had stirred emotions and memories he had long sought to bury, and the constant interruptions were a reminder of how far he had strayed from the tranquility he once knew.
An urge, born from how long it had been since he last transformed his body, took hold of him. He needed to escape, to find a moment of peace where he could think clearly. With a thought, he shifted into the form of an eagle, feeling his limbs change and his vision sharpen. The transformation was exhilarating, a rush of power and freedom that he had nearly forgotten.
With a powerful leap, he launched himself through the open window, his wings catching the wind as he soared into the open skies of Valinor. The vast expanse of blue stretched out before him, and the familiar landscape of the Blessed Realm spread beneath him like a living tapestry. For a moment, the weight of his burdens lifted, and he felt a freedom he could scarcely remember.
For so long, he had been bound to Mordor, plotting and raising his army against the people of Middle-earth. The dark lands, with their oppressive atmosphere and constant demands, had become his prison. But here, in the skies of Valinor, he was reminded of what it felt like to be unencumbered, to be part of the natural order instead of its manipulator.
He flew higher, reveling in the sensation of the wind beneath his wings and the sun warming his feathers. The pristine beauty of Valinor, untouched by the corruption he had come to associate with power, stirred a longing deep within him. He could see the glittering towers of Tirion in the distance, the silver and gold lights of the Two Trees, and the serene waters of the sea glinting like sapphires far below.
As he soared, his mind wandered back to a time when he and Olórin were close, before the creation of the Ring had irrevocably severed their bond. He remembered the debates that stretched into the night, the long hours they spent poring over ancient texts in the great libraries of Valinor and their long walks along the shores of Eldamar. It seemed like another lifetime, a different existence altogether.
Flying over the verdant fields and sparkling rivers, Sauron allowed himself to contemplate the choices that lay before him. The allure of power and control still tugged at him, an insidious whisper promising greatness and dominion. But the freedom he felt now, the purity of the skies and the untainted beauty of Valinor, offered a stark contrast to the dark path he had chosen.
He entertained whimsical thoughts of escape—of fleeing to some far-flung corner of Middle-earth, where only he and Olórin existed, away from the relentless battles between light and darkness.
In his mind's eye, he envisioned a tranquil existence, untouched by the struggles and responsibilities of the world. A secluded haven where the whisper of the wind through ancient trees and the gentle murmur of flowing streams replaced the cacophony of conflict. Here, in this idyllic sanctuary, he could shed the burdens of his past, the weight of his ambitions, and the suffocating mantle of power that had become both his identity and his prison.
It was a fantasy, he knew, a fleeting dream, but one that offered a respite from the weight of his choices and the loyalties that pulled him in different directions. The thought of escaping to a simpler life with Olórin was a balm to his tormented soul, a brief, blissful interlude in the dark symphony of his thoughts.
Sauron knew that Olórin would never abandon Manwë. The steadfastness of Olórin's commitment was unyielding, a rock against the tempestuous sea of uncertainty and corruption that had swayed Sauron. It was something Sauron admired, yet it also baffled him, for he could not grasp how such allegiance could be maintained without faltering.
Olórin's dedication shaped his every action, guided his decisions, and anchored him with a sense of purpose that felt utterly foreign to Sauron. For Olórin, loyalty to Manwë was not just a duty; it was a source of strength and clarity. It was a guiding star that never wavered, even in the darkest of times.
Sauron's own loyalty had always been a complex, multifaceted thing, tied to the grand visions of order and dominion he shared with Melkor. Where Olórin saw harmony and balance as the ultimate goals, Sauron saw potential for growth, transformation, and, inevitably, control. His devotion to Melkor had been born out of a shared vision for a new world, one where his talents could reshape reality itself. Yet, as time passed, that vision had become clouded, twisted by ambition and a thirst for power.
Sauron guessed that as Mairon, his bond to Aulë had been a bit different. It was still tied to the things and projects they could create together but included a deep sense of affection and respect. Working with Aulë had not just been about building and forging; it had been about shared purpose and mutual admiration.
The contrast between his path and Olórin's was stark, a glaring reminder of the chasm that had grown between them. Olórin's unwavering belief in the inherent goodness of Eru's creation stood in sharp opposition to Sauron's desire to bend that creation to his will.
In his imagined retreat, Sauron allowed himself to ponder what it might be like to align himself with Olórin's ideals, to seek wisdom instead of control, to foster growth through understanding rather than domination.
But reality intruded, as it always did. The dream of escape was just that—a dream. The path he had chosen was not so easily cast aside. The world would not wait for his soul-searching; the forces of darkness and light continued their ceaseless dance, and he was inextricably bound to their rhythm.
As he circled above the land, his thoughts returned to the encounter with Olórin. The sincerity in his brother's voice, the concern in his eyes, had stirred something within him.
Sauron knew he stood at a crossroads. He could continue down the path of ambition and domination, or he could seek a different way, one that might lead to reconciliation and a return to the light he had forsaken. For now, he would keep his secrets, navigating the treacherous path between loyalty and ambition, trust and deception. But as he flew through the open skies of Valinor, he felt a glimmer of hope—a small, fragile thing, but enough to remind him that the future was not yet written.
Nárie, a Maia of Aulë, awaited Mairon's arrival in Aulë's halls. The rhythmic clang of hammer against anvil filled the air, mingling with the hiss of molten metal and the murmur of fellow Maiar working diligently at their tasks. Nárie stood by the entrance, his gaze flickering to the door every few minutes, his fingers tapping a soft rhythm against the stone wall.
He was a tall, imposing figure with an aura of calm authority. His hair, a rich chestnut hue, flowed down to his shoulders, catching the light of the forge and reflecting it in a warm, almost fiery glow. His eyes, a deep green reminiscent of the verdant forests of Valinor, held a blend of wisdom and unyielding determination. Clad in robes of deep brown and gold, embroidered with intricate patterns symbolizing the crafts of Aulë, Nárie embodied the essence of the forge—both the unrelenting heat and the beauty that emerged from it.
Mairon's absence was unusual. While Mairon didn't come to the forges every day, often preoccupied with experiments in his room or testing grounds elsewhere, he always honored arrangements to meet and work together. But now, it was several hours past the time they were supposed to meet, and as the sun slowly arced across the sky, casting long shadows through the arched windows, Nárie's worry deepened. He knew Mairon well enough to sense that something was amiss.
With a growing sense of unease, he set out to find his friend, a playful smile on his face belying the concern in his eyes.
Nárie moved with purpose through the grand halls, his steps echoing softly on the polished floors. He greeted fellow Maiar and Aulë himself as he passed, his demeanor calm but his heart racing with a mixture of anxiety and determination. He made his way to Mairon's chambers first, hoping to find him engrossed in some intricate project.
The door to Mairon's room stood slightly ajar. Nárie knocked softly before pushing it open, his eyes scanning the familiar space. The room was empty, and the usual signs of Mairon's presence—the faint hum of magical energy, the scattered papers—were absent. A frown creased Nárie's brow as he turned to leave.
Next, he ventured to the various testing grounds scattered throughout the vast halls of Aulë's domain. Each forge and workshop buzzed with activity, the Maiar engrossed in their crafts. Nárie paused at each location, inquiring about Mairon's whereabouts, but no one had seen him since the previous day. His worry deepened with each passing moment.
Stepping outside into the open air, Nárie paused to gather his thoughts. The pristine beauty of Valinor spread out before him, a landscape of verdant fields and shimmering waters that seemed to pulse with life and light. He closed his eyes, reaching out with his senses, attempting to detect the faint trace of Mairon's energy to establish a temporary bond.
Temporary bonds could be established between any Ainur, but they required a continuous flow of energy to maintain. The greater the distance between them, the more challenging it became to sustain the connection. Most Ainur preferred to use these bonds for brief conversations, severing the connection once their immediate need had been met. As Nárie focused, he felt the familiar yet faint resonance of Mairon's presence, a lingering echo that he grasped onto, channeling his energy to bridge the gap between them.
A sudden flicker of recognition made him open his eyes. High above, an eagle soared, its wings catching the light in a way that seemed almost otherworldly. The majestic bird circled gracefully, its keen eyes surveying the land below. A smile tugged at Nárie's lips as he realized it was Mairon. The transformation was unmistakable, a reminder of the power and grace inherent in their kind.
Nárie watched the eagle for a moment, his playful smile returning. He felt a surge of relief, knowing that Mairon was safe, at least for now. But the question of why he had taken to the skies remained unanswered. 'Mairon,' Nárie sent playfully. 'What are you searching for up there?'
Sauron didn't know how long he continued to fly, the world below a blur of verdant fields and shimmering waters. The sensation of freedom was intoxicating, a brief respite from the burdens weighing on his mind. The wind whistled through his feathers, and the rhythmic beat of his wings provided a steady, comforting rhythm.
Suddenly, he felt a light brush against his mind, causing his flight to falter momentarily. His wings stuttered, and he nearly lost altitude before regaining control. The touch was unfamiliar and startling, breaking through the solitude of his thoughts.
Since he had left Aulë's halls, the only mental connections he had maintained or created were with Melkor or the other traitor Maiar. However, since Melkor's imprisonment and his own gradual descent into isolation, those connections had become extremely rare, and each time they occurred, they were laced with darkness and malice. The bond with Olórin was different, more a connection of spirits rather than minds, and ever since he had awakened back in Valinor, he had been actively trying to block himself from Aulë's bond.
So now, to feel another mental touch, one that was neither malevolent nor judgmental, startled him.
It was a gentle probe, filled with concern and a hint of playful curiosity. It lacked the oppressive weight of Melkor's influence or the penetrating depth of Olórin's spirit. This was something else, something that felt almost...familiar.
Nárie. The realization hit him with the force of a gale. The presence felt unmistakably like Nárie, his old friend and fellow Maia of Aulë.
For a fleeting moment, he pondered why it had taken him so long to recognize Nárie's presence. He prided himself on his sharp memory, a trait that had served him well throughout his long existence. Yet ever since he left Valinor, anything related to his time there always seemed to slip through his grasp like mist, elusive and fragmented. The more he tried to recall specific details, the more they seemed to fade, leaving him with an unsettling sense of loss. It was as if an impenetrable fog had settled over that part of his life, obscuring it from view.
Since his awakening in Valinor, he had felt his memories of that time before slowly returning. Bit by bit, fragments of the past began to reassemble themselves in his mind, but the process was painstakingly slow and often incomplete. The fact that these memories had been lost in the first place was peculiar and troubling. None of the other Maiar who had joined Melkor experienced this phenomenon. Their recollections remained intact, sharp and clear, unmarred by the passage of time or the fall into darkness.
Sauron had wondered if this was a punishment devised by the Valar, designed especially for him. As Melkor's most trusted lieutenant and second in command, he had played a pivotal role in the dark designs that had wrought havoc upon Valinor and later Middle Earth. His actions had caused untold suffering and despair, and he had reveled in the power and fear he commanded. Perhaps, he mused, the Valar had sought to strip him of his memories as a means of exacting a subtle yet profound retribution.
The thought that the Valar had crafted this unique torment just for him had gnawed at his pride and fueled his resentment. It was a punishment that attacked him at his core, undermining his sense of self and his confidence in his own mind.
Sauron circled lower, scanning the landscape below for any sign of the other Maia. He could feel Nárie's presence more clearly now, a beacon of light in the shadowed corners of his mind. There, near the edge of a forest glade, stood Nárie, his eyes turned skyward, watching the eagle with a mix of relief and determination.
With a graceful descent, Sauron landed on a nearby branch, his keen eyes meeting Nárie's. The Maia's face broke into a smile, though it was tinged with concern.
"I see you've taken to the skies, Mairon," Nárie called out, his voice carrying a blend of teasing and genuine relief. "I was starting to think you'd forgotten our meeting."
Sauron shifted back into his humanoid form, the transition smooth and effortless. He felt odd seeing a familiar face he hadn't seen in centuries. The last time had been a few short weeks before Melkor's attack on Valinor.
"Nárie," he acknowledged, his voice steady but guarded. "I needed some time to think."
Nárie nodded, his playful demeanor masking the depth of his concern. "I can see that. But you should know, that disappearing like that tends to worry your friends. Did something happen?"
Sauron looked away, the weight of Nárie's words pressing down on him. "It's complicated," he admitted, the understatement of the century. "I'd rather not talk about it."
"Of course," Nárie said, watching him carefully. There was something distinctly different about Mairon, and he wondered what was troubling his friend. The way Mairon was standing—rigid yet with slight, unconscious twitches upwards—suggested to Nárie that he desperately wanted to escape, to take flight from both his problems and this conversation.
Nárie decided to give Mairon an out. "If you want, we can reschedule," he casually mentioned, trying to keep his tone light and nonchalant. "Not a lot of hours left in the day anyway."
Mairon's shoulders seemed to relax slightly at the offer, though the tension in his eyes remained.
"Maybe that's for the best," Mairon finally conceded, his voice softer and tinged with weariness. "I'm not... in the right frame of mind right now."
Nárie nodded, offering a supportive smile. "No rush, Mairon. Whenever you're ready. Just remember, I'm here for you."
For a moment, Mairon seemed lost, as if searching for the right expression to grace his features. Then, with a subtle effort, he relaxed his face into a smile, as if the very act of smiling had become foreign to him.
A charged silence hung between them, filled with unspoken words and shared history. Mairon turned his gaze to the horizon, where the sun was beginning its descent, casting long shadows across the landscape. The memories of their past collaborations and the bond they once shared tugged at him, creating a dissonance with the dark path he had chosen.
"Thank you, Nárie," Sauron finally said, the words heavy with unspoken meaning. "I appreciate your understanding."
Nárie returned the sentiment with a small, reassuring smile. "Anytime, Mairon. Take care of yourself."
As Nárie watched Mairon transform back into a bird and gracefully take to the skies, he couldn't suppress the growing concern in his heart. The sight of his friend's inner turmoil stirred within him a renewed determination to offer support, even if it meant proceeding cautiously and respecting Mairon's need for space.
With powerful strokes of his wings, Sauron soared higher, leaving behind the worries and responsibilities that had weighed him down moments ago. The cool breeze brushed against his feathers, carrying with it a sense of clarity that had eluded him on the ground. Up here, amidst the boundless heavens, he could think more clearly, away from the complexities and conflicts of his current predicament.
It was as if the world conspired against him, each encounter with figures from his past—well-meaning and full of concern—seeming to thwart any inclination towards darkness. Their soft looks and genuine care seemed to suggest they hadn't let go of the hope for his redemption, as if the love they once shared still lingered despite all he had done.
Sauron was acutely aware that in their eyes, he hadn't committed any of those atrocities. Only he bore the burden of memories from a future that hadn't yet unfolded. He knew all too well that revealing even a fraction of the horrors he had done would likely turn these figures against him, shattering the fragile bonds of trust and care they now extended.
Yet, despite this knowledge, as he looked at them with their earnest concern and lingering affection, the thought of leaving again became increasingly difficult to entertain. Their presence offered a glimmer of solace, a fleeting reminder of a time when his path seemed clearer, less marred by the shadows that now trailed him.
Perhaps, with time and effort, he could find a way to reconcile the warring parts of himself. But for now, as he soared in the boundless freedom of the heavens, Sauron allowed himself a moment of respite. The weight of the world below seemed distant, replaced by a fleeting sense of peace that came with the solitary flight of an eagle in the skies of Valinor.