#sauron redemption

[mirroringdust]

For @lifeauthoredbymusic and the @haladrielficexchange soo happy and relieved you liked it ☺️☺️

nabant, they say, is the saddest word in the elven tongue. But this is a language I no longer use and a word I have tried to completely erase from my vocabulary, forgotten long ago, banished to the darkest corner of my mind from the moment I gave up trying. It seemed only fitting that I should name my story after it.

My story began in Numenor. Or rather, it began again there, under the glowing lights of the sun, right in the lost waves of the sea. It began when I touched her hand and pulled her back onto the raft. It was nothing more than an idea, but it quickly turned into a glowing dream that hovered over my long, empty soul, tortured and forgotten. All I wanted was to be seen, and she was a beacon beside me. She saw me and pulled me out of the sea and I her.

Woven into my illusion and deepest desire is the scent of her, of all the moments we shared together, never fulfilled or complete, always left to wonder at.

We were together in this city of golden stones. I marvelled at the people running past us full of joy, all that laughter, all that brightness, and her beside me, walking with her head held high, strong and beautiful as the sea itself and the light of the trees. For once I felt I could watch all this with an ease in my cold, broken heart, because all my past deeds, all my dark, bad past deeds hadn’t been fulfilled, had been useless, pointless, and this was a new attempt, a new horizon, my way of trying and finding another path. To start anew after an eternity of suffering.

And I was close to touching it. I could feel the light brushing over my bare hands, ready to be grasped, ready to be interlaced into my new destiny. But I did not close my fist around this delicate stream of gold or I closed it wrongly. Whatever it was, I couldn’t reach it.I almost did, but I failed.

You may not know, for I have never told any of you about her and the way she speaks, the way she lifts her chin to face me, looks me straight in the eye. Every little line I wrote was always for her.

This is the truth I am finally telling you. I can tell you…

The sun fought its way through the milky glass of the dark stained window and the ancient being sitting on the wooden table raised its head. For a moment the figure followed the path of the sun's rays until they reached the dusty floor just beside where he sat. His eyes seemed lost in the light, the disturbance of shadows. His broad shoulders covered a large part of the deep green wallpaper behind him, and the little painting that hung below a border of leaves.

From anyone else’s point of view, this man with the brown hair that hung in curls over his face would have pushed them away reluctantly and seemed to be reminiscing in his own thoughts. He inhaled again, trying to take in the air as if it were the most normal thing in the world, something everyone did, every day, every human being. But he wasn't everyone, and he wasn't human. Yet he was clouding himself with the disguise of one. The face of someone who had once been loved. Ages ago.

He scratched out the last words, sighed and rubbed his wrinkled brow. The candle was already glowing, though it was still day outside. He focused on the small flame for a short while. But then he gathered himself and started writing again.

(continue on AO3)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63966823

[elronds-library]

Anastasis

by Chthonion (@chthonion)

Part 1 of Your shadow rising to meet you

"Forgive me,” Frodo says in his accented Quenya, the syllables strange in his ears. “I—I have an old wound. It troubles me still, sometimes." "It is I who must ask your forgiveness," says the stranger. "I believe I may be the one who put it there." * In Aman, Frodo and Celebrimbor and Finrod forge a friendship, talk about trauma, and deal with the fact that Sauron's ghost is haunting Celebrimbor.

Teen and Up, No Archive Warnings

Words: 50,688

[admirableprecious]

I finished Anastasis just to get to this one! I’m 13% through the Harrowing! Such long fics are impressive.

FTR, if I didn’t say this before, I’ll say it now, Anastasis was among the first fics I encountered while looking for Sauron Redemption works which led to Silvergifting. Yes, saying for those who didn’t hear it the first time. :p

Chapter 49 of the Harrowing is here!

Here, thanks to beta readers telling me to stop futzing and post it, is the next chapter! In this one, a lot of people try to take care of each other despite nonideal circumstances.

Also, Annatar has a conversation with Elrond. As usual, he does not enjoy it.

[perlen-gold]

Someone: Oh, Sauron, it's okay. None of this is your fault!

Sauron: No, it really isn't.

Someone: You were tortured by Morgoth!

Sauron: Oh yes, I was tortured. Terribly, terribly so.

Someone: Your evil master forced you to do such horrible things!

Sauron: Oh, he did! *wipes away a tear* And horrible they were indeed!

Someone: All of this is just a result of your trauma!

Sauron: Oh yes, I am very much traumatized! Poor me!!!

Someone: You're just a victim yourself!!!

Sauron: A poor, endearing, gorgeous-looking, totally not responsible victim I am!!!

Melkor: Wait... So ... all the sex we had ... you told me it was great and it wasn't??!

Sauron: Oh no, it was wonderful.

Melkor: ... So ... that time when you asked me to take you REALLY hard on the war table actually traumatized you??

Sauron: Oh no, darling, I very much enjoyed that.

Melkor: ... So ... when you slayed elves and humans in my name you actually suffered??!

Sauron: Oh no, I very much enjoyed that, too.

Melkor: ... So ... when we married I was actually FORCING you to forge our rings????

Sauron: Oh no, that was quite fun, I had even made them in advance, I had been waiting for your proposal for ages. You really took your time, you're so shy.

Melkor: ??? So ... all of this is just one of your lies again????

Sauron: Ah, my lord, believe me, watching you playing Tic-Tac-Toe and losing against Húrin time and time again was nothing but utter torture and trauma.

[shelleysmary]

sauron is so *sighing facepalm* frustrating. he crawled, walked, sailed across middle-earth, made up the halbrand identity, did a boomer in-person job application tour around númenor, didn't lie to galadriel and he has the mental gymnastics to prove it, sailed back to middle earth with an army, fought a whole ass battle, faced his murderer with a mostly straight face, got impaled... somehow, risked sepsis on a six-day ride to eregion, brainstormed magic rings with celebrimbor, wielded tools and operated heavy machinery after said mysterious injury, clocked that his would-be girlfriend was starting to get the ick around him, took radical action, asked her to be his non-platonic business partner (the business being mass-brainwashing and dictatoring), took the L, regrouped, rode back to the southlands (now mordor) to enact plan b wherein he faces his murderer again, gets beat up, goes on a hunger strike (rage and self-pity are his fuel), relives his murder trauma for The Master Plan, back on a horse, rides from mordor to eregion, sadface emoji because he's not allowed to go in, stands in the square, gets rained on, risks regency-era pneumonia, flatters celebrimbor, comes up with plan b part 2 wherein he is now a representative of the valar with a great haircare routine and possibly a stylist, begins his campaign to gaslight gatekeep manipulate everyone in eregion, balancing a full-time job with psychological warfare...

my guy. you could've lived on a nice farm somewhere. gone on vacation. adopted an elven dog. being "good" is too much effort for you??? what do you call THIS?

[valar-did-me-wrong]

I freaking love the attention to detail in this show 🤌🏽

If you look closely here you'll see, Adar's nails were trimmed & neat when he was under Sauron. But he lets them grow long & claw like after the Uruk Revolution

My headcanon for this is Sauron despises orcs but he has enough love &or respect for Adar to have him as his second in command.. this is because he remembers Adar's elven form & doesn't see him as an Uruk completely. And to reinforce that Sauron will have him appear groomed with slicked back hair, trimmed nails, better clothes that actually are a set & cool accessories etc

Now once Sauron is gone, Adar tries to bridge the gap between himself and his children, by embracing Uruk esthetics a little more.. which imo must have made the transformation from Nenya even more shocking!

Like here he is, after spending thousands of years reclaiming his Uruk side & thousands of years before that accepting himself being an Uruk & suddenly after Nenya all those uncountable scars are gone, the chronic pains resulting from torture that must have become second nature disappear, his skin is alive again, his blood flows red under it, the wild shallow uruk hair have transformed into an elven mane..

..no wonder he got shocked into sense by that!

Imagine getting tortured, having your identity taken, made into a monster, living a fragmented life never fully belonging anywhere, trying to accept & move on from all that to somehow survive for your children & then getting transformed back into how you were before all that!

It would have made him recall everything at once & then he decided to come to terms with it all, accept what was done to him & what he did too, instead of deflecting it away by blaming Morgoth, Sauron or the Valar.. and to me this makes him and his growth & redemption even more special 🖤

[admirableprecious]

It was after the defeat at Barad Dur. I never thought in terms of years, but they were quite a few. It’s also a bit canon divergent since in my headcanon, he’s not crushed in the tower, but manages to get out, but is still greatly diminished.

He had little choice but to wander with whatever he had left. At that point, he didn’t know or care what repentance/redemption was, but found that his actions were very different from they used to be. He had no expectations, but slowly realized that all his hate/malice was for nothing.

At Dagor Dagorth, he made a decision and chose Arda.

That’s the super condensed version. :)

Same AU again. I guess, the only context i can give is that this happens in a third age, right before Dagor Dagorath. Mairon is truly sorry and therefore forgiven. And there are a ton of detail about how and why, but idk how to explain it in short.

[likesdoodling]

This is one of my one of my favourite scenes from The Harrowing by Chthonion-

This fic has taken over my brain. I will probably be back to normal eventually. Probably. In case it's unclear, we've got Celebrimbor, Finrod, Frodo, and Annatar (Sauron).

:D

I would highly recommend this fic btw, it's like a second chance/villain redemption fic, and it is really fun to watch Sauron struggle- *ahem* "Come to grips with how to be a 'good' person" and all the hilarity that entails. And feelings. And all that cool stuff.

:D:D

(I don't know how to link things btw- if I did I would)

[lamemaster]

Way Back Home

Request: @lanthanum12 Hello friend! I was wondering if I could request a story? I'd like a platonic Mairon & gender neutral reader or oc story. Preferably with a redeemed Mairon! Please keep the relationship between Mairon and reader platonic. Thank you so much! :D

Genre: angst/redemption/hurt no comfort

Pairing: Sauron/Mairon x Platonic Reader

Summary: Now, the dark lord, the tyrant, the bane of Middle-earth, he was your son. And though the world cursed his name, you could not sever the bond you shared.

AN: Thank you for requesting this dearest friend! I hope you like it. Honestly, he deserves this because he's just a baby.

“I do not wish to be kind. I do not wish to be noble,” Mairon whispered, his voice brittle as he lay in your lap. A note of complaint mixed in his whine.

Your fingers wove gently through his hair, brushing through the strands as if to soothe away the ages of torment he had endured.

It had been so long since you last held your son. Your estranged child, who had wandered so far from the path that once bound him to you.

He had lost his way. Lost his name. Forgotten his form and the very song of his being in his unyielding devotion to his lord.

And so you listened. Your heart ached at the bittersweet joy of his return, mingled with the pain of his proximity. Your throat tightened, choked with words you could not say, with sobs you dared not release. Silent, you let him pour his heart out. Your son was home, but the realization of how little of him remained broke you.

He had been so young. Decades-old, still a fledgling, when the Vala of darkness cast his shadow over him.

What began as an innocent infatuation, a harmless curiosity, had grown into something no one could have foreseen.

Now, the dark lord, the tyrant, the bane of Middle-earth, he was your son. And though the world cursed his name, you could not sever the bond you shared.

Mairon, born of the fragments of your song, had once been your precious child. His music had mirrored the light of Laurelin and Telperion, the brightness that once gilded the Blessed Lands. He had been your laughter, your joy, given form.

But your son had burned too brightly.

And the dark lord had coveted him, drawn him in, much like Fëanor’s Silmarils.

But you were no elven prince, bound by pride or vengeance. You were a Maia, simple, obscure, a servant of the halls of Vana, forgotten even by your own child.

Yet your love for him had never faltered.

"Do you remember me?" you wished to ask. "Did you ever miss me, as I longed for you? Did your heart ache for me when I did not come to your rescue? Forgive me. Stay with me, my darling Mairon."

Your thoughts rang loud and desperate in your mind. "Let me bear his pain. Let me repent for him. He is a child," you had begged the All-Father. Day and night, your life had been spent in prayer for him.

In all the vast expanse of Arda, there was one who prayed for him.

And now, you held your son. He still felt too small. Too fragile. Like the little flame you had once cradled in your arms.

“Mairon,” you whispered, and your tears came unbidden. “Mairon,” you repeated senselessly, nestling your face against his cheek. His name was all you had left of him.

Of all the speeches, the scoldings, and the pleas. Only his name remained.

You were weakened by all that had come to pass. Right and wrong had long since ceased to exist. You just wanted him close. Away from harm. You wanted to hold your precious.

With his head in your lap, Mairon fell silent. His form stiffened at the wet warmth of your tears against his cheek. The trembling of your fingers in his hair sent a shiver through him.

He pointedly avoided your gaze, his eyes falling shut as if to ward off the crushing wave of emotion threatening to break him.

And yet, even as he struggled to hold onto the fleeting fragments of his dignity, he did not pull away.

His pain was yours. Every act of his cruelty had been etched into your soul. You terrible son, you thought. You, who marred the world. You, who tore mothers from their children, and became the cause of grieving mothers.

Yet, parts of him had failed to fade.

“Meow,” a plaintive mewl echoed from the past. Mairon, a small kitten, struggling with the blades of grass your fellow Maiar of Vana teased him with.

Chasing after the green stalk, he had sprung from a rock into your waiting palms. Looking up at you with a whine, his golden eyes followed the blade, insistent and determined.

His first form had been that of a kitten. Endearingly known as Tevildo by your friends. “Hush, no teasing my dearest,” you had scolded them gently, earning soft laughter as Mairon let out a contented mew, finally victorious.

Tevildo had remained. A form that comforted him in the harshest of times, a fragment of innocence that lingered amidst the darkness.

Even in the marred forms of his being, your Mairon had somehow held onto his past.

Now, as his face remained hidden in your lap, you pressed a gentle kiss to his scarred cheek. “You do not have to be noble, my darling, nor perform acts of good,” you whispered, kissing the hands that had once been tiny paws.

“Just stay here...” Your voice trembled with restrained sobs. “In the light of Aman. Do not hurt others, Mairon. Do not let yourself be hurt. Do not isolate yourself. Find redemption and forgiveness, from the Quendi, from the Maiar, from the Valar, and from yourself. I know you can do it because you are my most precious darling.”

You smiled faintly, rubbing his shaking form.

“Look after yourself,” you whispered. “Learn to laugh and love. Make amends with Aulë. And Lady Vána too. She cares for you. Even Lord Manwë does. They know you were just a child. No one will deny you forgiveness.”

Tears blurred your vision, making it difficult to gaze at him before the end. “Promise me, dearest,” you pleaded, pulling him to face you. “Promise me you will do all this.”

And the tiny face of a kitten rested on your palm. Tevildo let out a soft whimper, his tiny paws latching onto your robe as if to hold back the inevitable.

“Be my darling son,” you whispered, kissing the top of his head. “Allow me this, my darling. Allow me one last effort for my son. My last labor as your parent, my precious.”

His cries rang loud, echoing through the halls of Mandos as the bleakness of the Void greeted you. Without complaint, you stepped into it.

This was your penance.

The first time Mairon had held the ring, his heart had soared with love. This soul had reached back to him from the engravings of his rings.

Cradling its warmth in his palm Mairon ran his fingers over the metal.

"My precious," the words that left his lips had stilled him. A face of the past came to mind. His heart trembled at your voice that rang in his ears.

"My precious," you had called him, your lips brushing his cheek with a loving kiss. "My Mairon." He could see your smile, warm and tender, and the memory struck him with unexpected force.

It had been too long, he had forgotten it. Or so he thought.

Holding onto his greatest creation, Mairon's first thought had been of you.

Two words that filled him with aching want to hear them. To be held and to be with the one who once called him with such love.

In the lush valleys of Vána, Mairon chased the green stalk that evaded his paws. He mewled at the elders who refused to hand it to him.

Reaching for it with determination, he ran in circles, surrounded by merry giggles. He was fond of the sound, yet his heart felt woefully wrong as he was denied the stalk despite his efforts.

He made his irritation known with wistful mewls, earning another round of soft laughter.

Lost in his game, his feet slipped over a rock, but a pair of warm, gentle hands caught him. Lady Vana’s touch was kind, yet it felt so wrong.

And in an instant, his heart filled with sorrow. A lingering grief, sharp and relentless, that sneaked up in moments like these.

For in those moments, his heart yearned for you.

Alone in Arda, his cries failed to reach you.

Cradled in Vana’s palms, his cries were inconsolable. Soft whimpers, heavy with a sorrow no one could soothe, silenced the company.

[laurelonde]

Since I get nothing done right now, have some old art.

Mairon before he became the copper-haired menace. Tho, the mopey expression means he was restored from his poltergeist stage post 4th Age. Now, what to do with life? Fight on Melkor's side and go out with a bang during the Dagor Dagorath? Void? Mandos? Scrubbing the floors of Valmar for all eternity? How do you redeem such a character? Can they even be redeemed?

[admirableprecious]

Looking for Sauron redemption fics is how I got into Silvergifting.

do you know why i want alll the sauron post destruction of the ring redemption aus? cause everytime i see something based on this christian belief that i still share that there is no such thing as irredemable and no matter how far you fall there is still a way back i want it to walk the talk. try to proove it to make it believable

Idk if this also is some weird remnant of my religious trauma or smthg but. Yeah redemption stories, proper redemption stories that do not minimise the damage and the difficulty and do not revolve around a character that only strayed a bit are my catnip.

[mirroringdust]

Stave 4 - The Last of the Three Spirits

Come back to me!

He falls to the ground, sees everything around him explode, sees nothing but a faint memory of something that was life, that was his life. But it's not over. It is never over. His life has been full of torment and it seems to continue. He does not know where all of this is coming from, but he knows whoever is doing this to him does not want to do him any good.

You could have chosen good. You don't know what good is.

But isn't it still worth it? Wouldn't it all be lost if he just gave up? How could he, how could he give up after all he's been through to get this close to defeating the Valar, to reaching the pinnacle of everything he's ever wanted to do.

Galadriel's words are still ringing in his ears.

This is not good. This is good, it's a feeling of warmth and giving warmth to others. The small acts of kindness that light the way. 

But don't they all become useless when your life is endless, shouldn't it be the greater good that should guide your path? After all the dark deeds he has committed, to paint them as worthless would be the greatest sacrilege.

He covers his ears as if that would help in any way. It has gone on too long now, all the turmoil in his mind is making him tremble, making him stagger and fall again.

He looks up, raises his head into the grey cloud, opens his eyes, searches, but there is no one, only this hollow, fulfilling silence, heralding a never-ending loop of consequences of violence and loneliness.

“It may not be good,” he whispers, his voice shuddering, hesitantly pressing against the clouds of fog. He feels his eyes fill with tears. It is this outer air that makes him feel weak, that puts these weights onto his whole soul, pushing him down. It’s only this. “But it will not all be in vain. After all of this there will be glory, there will be admiration, there will be peace.”

A tear fights its way down his cheek, slowly creeping over his skin and dropping down into a deep puddle at his feet. “It will not be worthless. It will not be worthless. It will not…”

His words lose their power and his voice trails off. For a moment he just sits there in this nothingness and he thinks he is back where he started, where it all began. Have they taken him away? But then there is a disruption, a distant sound, then a rippling of the mist before him.

It condenses, coalesces into a mass, and then he hears it. That voice that shakes him to the core and sets all his senses on high alert. All of a sudden, every one of his numb muscles tenses and his eyes search frantically for the being that caused this reaction. Even before it manifests itself in front of him, Sauron knows it, even before he sees it, he has risen, but he cannot escape. Not from it.

He is trapped in its clutches.

Melkor.

(continue on AO3, hope you enjoy!)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/61540693/chapters/165978748#workskin

[elronds-library]

The Harrowing [WIP]

by Chthonion (@chthonion)

Part 2 of Your shadow rising to meet you

Remake me. Re-sing me. Un-mar me, so that I can love him and not destroy him. * Annatar attempts change, and a life as one of the Eldar. He also drags Fëanor and his sons out of the Void on his way back to Life, and regrets it almost immediately.

Mature, Graphic Depictions of Violence

Words: 390,525

[markantonys]

every good story should include two genres of villain: "i can fix him" (adar) and "i want him to make me worse" (sauron)

[giveamadeuschohisownmovie]

The concept of heel and face turns in wrestling storytelling is insane if you apply it to any other fictional universe. For example, in 2011, Cody Rhodes and CM Punk were villains and John Cena was the main hero. In 2025, Cody is the main hero, CM Punk is arguably the 2nd main hero, and Cena is clawing for the role of the top villain. Now, apply that character development to any other fictional series:

DanDaDan: Momo and Okarun are the heroes, Count Saint Germain is the main villain —> Count Saint Germain is trying to save the world from the alien queen Momo and the demonic Okarun

Red Dead Redemption: Arthur Morgan and John Marston are the lovable outlaws running from the corrupt cops led by Agent Milton —> Agent Milton, the reformed cop, has to stop Arthur and John, who have gone full-Joker crazy

Marvel: Captain America fights Nazis, specifically the leader of HYDRA known as Red Skull —> progressive icon Red Skull must take down Captain America, who became a neo-Nazi Proud Boy

Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring must destroy the One Ring to prevent dark lord Sauron’s return to power —> reformed hero Sauron must save the world from the tyrannical rule of King Aragorn the Cruel

And so on and so forth.

[mai-komagata]

ok it isn't that i don't want to redeem sauron. in real life i hope if there is a god the apokatastasis is real. but like if we are making a ranked list of people who who should be redeemed in the rings of power show, i see scenes like halbrand stealing that sigil from that old man and leaving him to die or stabbing his orc children adar loves so much and worked so hard to make good again, or throwing mirdania over the railing, and im like, well, we can put sauron last on the list. he clearly doesn't want it. liking one powerful blonde woman gives you zero redemption points -- that doesnt even count as *trying*, that is just having eyes. its like you guys don't know how the ancient magic works at all.