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B2MeM 2012: A Spirit in Shadows  by Mirach

B2MeM 2012: A Spirit in Shadows

If it is destroyed, then he will fall; and his fall will be so low that none can foresee his arising ever again. For he will lose the best part of the strength that was native to him in his beginning, and all that was made or begun with that power will crumble, and he will be maimed for ever, becoming a mere spirit of malice that gnaws itself in the shadows, but cannot again grow or take shape.

-J. R. R. Tolkien : the Return of the King

1. The Shadow

In the Dwarven kingdom of Erebor, statues of ancestors looked down upon the living, reminding them on their history carved in stone. There were Thorin Oakenshield and his sister Dís. After the death of her sons Fili and Kili and her husband she married Dáin II, the father of Thorin III - father of the Dwarf that was looking at the statues now: the pictures of both his ancestors and descendants.

Sauron was there.

He had no form and no shape, no power to do anything, but even so, he could feel the eyes of the young Dwarf piercing him. He was a youngling, just staring to grow a beard, but in his eyes Sauron could see the knowledge of ages. A circlet wrought of mithril was upon his brow, and Sauron knew that it was the same one the dwarf made himself of the first mithril mined from Khazad Dûm in one of his previous lives.

"Aulendil…" Durin the Deathless said quietly, in a tone that was almost inviting. Sauron wanted to flee from that look, to hide in the darkness… but he stayed. The Dwarf before him was the son of Thorin III Stonehelm, who ruled Erebor after his father Dáin was killed during the War of the Ring – his Ring… But the thought of the Ring was fleeing, and did not torment him anymore like it used to before.

"I remember you…" the Dwarf smiled slightly, but there was no joy in that smile. "You were at Mahal's side when he taught us to speak, in the time when we were only his children."

The memory of that time was bitter and painful now, but still he welcomed it, driven to it like a moth to a flame. Aulë's wish for his own children did not go with Ilúvatar's plans, just like his own wish for order. Cursed creations, that had to be destroyed - and yet Ilúvatar took pity of them, and gave them their own will and place in the tales of Arda. But he did not take pity of him…

"I remember you…" Durin VII repeated, and now his voice sounded dark and merciless as it echoed in the carved halls. "You captured and killed Felagund, the Hewer of Caves. All hammers went quiet in that moment, and all forges cold."

Sauron shivered, remembering Finrod as their Songs fought each other, the light of the Two Trees in his eyes and firm determination in his face… and the same face pale and worn out as the Orcs dragged him away from Sauron's throne, unconscious. They were not gentle with the King of Nargorthrond, the friend of Men and Dwarves – they were dragging him by his hair, leaving a bloody trace on the floor…

"If you came her seeking forgiveness, Aulendil, I am not the one who can give it," Durin continued coldly, but there was a hint of sympathy in his voice.

Sauron though about his words, even as he fled from the Dwarven halls, wondering why he even went there and what did he hope to find.





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