55. Purpose

This part of the Halls seemed abandoned. There were no tapestries on the walls, just cold and uncut stone. Sauron wondered if they are used at all. He didn't even know how he got there, and hoped he will be able to find his way back.

He wanted to turn back the way he came from, but froze in the middle of the movement. He saw something with the corner of his eye. A movement… somebody was watching him. He felt no malicious intention though, just fear and cautiousness, like a wild animal fleeing from hunters. He turned quickly, but it wasn't there anymore.

For a few moments, he stood motionless, trying to catch a glimpse of it again. There was nothing though, just the rough, dark stones of the halls. He sighed and turned to leave again, but after a few steps, he turned suddenly. There it was – a pale, twisted spirit, looking at him with fear and curiosity just from a few steps' distance. It wanted to flee again, but froze under his intent look, like a mouse freezing under the sight of an eagle.

He said nothing to not drive it away. He didn't even move.

The spirit did not dare to flee, but it started to tremble, like a leaf in the wind.

"We did nothing wrong…" he could hear the weak voice. "We did nothing wrong… Please don't hurt us…"

He wanted to come a step closer, but as he moved, the spirit looked like prepared to flee, so he retreated a bit.

"I will not hurt you…" he said in a quiet voice. "Who are you?"

"M-m-master… we did nothing wrong! We did not want to follow… not to the Void!" the spirit sobbed.

A shade of understanding passed across Sauron's heart suddenly.

"Your master… he's Melkor?"

"No, Morgoth, no!" the spirit veiled.

"You are an Orc…" Sauron breathed out.

"Orc…" the spirit looked like tasting the word. "Yes… no, no!"

"You are an Orc… but once you were an Elf?" Sauron tried again.

The spirit nodded. "It called…" it said cautiously.

"What called? Or, who called?"

"It called Elves… Tall, bright eyes… But we heard too…"

"Yes…" Sauron whispered. "You were Elves once… You heard the call of Mandos…"

"We don't remember. But we did not want to follow the other call."

"Other call?"

"The Void. Master…" the spirit explained.

Sauron nodded with understanding. "The others did?" he asked.

"Many. Not all…"

Sauron suddenly realized he never thought of Orcs as living beings. They were resources, like stone or metal, like animals. He never wondered what happens to their spirit after death. He never wondered how deep their corruption is, and if there is still something left from the Elves they were before.

"There is more of you here?" he asked carefully, inadvertently taking a step forwards.

The spirit wanted to answer, but with that step, it froze, looking at Sauron intently. Apparently, it recognized him… "No! No Void! Don't take us after Master!"

"I don't want to take you anywhere…" Sauron said hastily, but the spirit was not listening to him anymore. It fled, staggering on the way.

Sauron sighed. "I don't want to go to the Void, either…" he whispered, and turned back the way he came, leaving the part of the halls behind.

He returned again, after some time – there were no days in Mandos. He sat on the place where he met the spirit, waiting. Nothing happened, so he stood up and went away when he got tired of it.

He came there again and again, sitting on the floor. It was strangely relaxing, to look at the rough walls after all the tapestries. Sometimes, he had the feeling as if someone would be watching him. Sometimes not. He didn't really know what he's trying to achieve, but it was something he could do and plan. He felt easier when he had a plan, even if it only including coming here and waiting.

And then, the spirit appeared again, cautiously peeking out from a dark alcove. "You… won't send us after Master?"

"No, I will not," Sauron said in a calm voice, although he suddenly felt nervous, afraid to scare the spirit away again.

"Then what do you want?"

Sauron shrugged. "I want to know you better. And the others, as well…"

"The one hundred years you promised him are over, Námo," Manwë was speaking with Námo in his thoughts. "Bring him to Mahánaxar tomorrow."

"With all respect, my lord…" Námo replied, "I do not think it's necessary."

"Not necessary? What do you mean?"

"I have Judged him already, my lord."

"You do not have the right! He has to stand before all the Valar!"

"I do. He is my Maia now."

"What?" Manwë's voice was surprised and a little annoyed.

"I won't allow you to throw him into the Void, or take him from here…" There was a trace of defiance in Námo's words.

Manwë sighed, his voice appeasing. "Nobody said we are going to do that. But he was Morgoth's chief lieutenant, and the second Dark Lord. He needs to be judged for his actions."

"Do you really find it necessary, my lord?" Námo sent Manwë a mental image.

"The Orcs?" Manwë asked in disbelief. "What is he doing?"

"Just the opposite of what Morgoth did," Námo replied. "He's turning them to Elves…"

"You told him to do that?"

"No. I knew they were in my halls, but they always fled before me, or my Maiar."

"I see now why you don't want to hand him over. Very well, Námo. May he be known as your Maia from now on…"

"Thank you, my lord." Námo smiled. "I will tell him immediately." There was just a bit of a mischievous trace in his voice, indicating he's really looking forward to see Sauron's face when he learns the news…

***THE END***