#sauron redemption

[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

[mirroringdust]

STAVE 2 - THE FIRST OF THE THREE SPIRITS

When it’s darkest the light fights its way back and the herald of something threatening comes to its fulfilment.

There is a sound in the silence and from afar.

He has opened his eyes again, but he doesn't see anything yet. It is only a slight sensation from outside the tower, more of a muffled sound than anything else.

Yet it's not so much the tone that disturbs his peace, but the recurring rhythm in the night that shouldn't be there.

Clang, it makes again. Then again.

Had the troublemakers dared to rise up against him and oppose him in the darkness? If that was the case, it was the worst possible time for them. They would not cause unrest for long. But there is something else in that echo that compels him to move. There is something in that sound that makes him sit up and take notice, something that awakens a picture in him, like a long, lost memory of a time before the curtain fell over his life. But it is impossible.

Clang. Clang. Clang it shatters through the tower.

He straightens, stands up from the ornamented black chair and looks. He would recognise this sound anywhere, but he knows that it should not be here.

Yet he hears it, the sound of glistening sharp metal on a smooth stone and then a hammer blows over and over again, rhythmic blows, then a pause. The sound vibrates in his mind like a tremor, as if something is being violently torn from him.

He turns his gaze downwards, searches for the source of this strange sound. After tonight, he has killed every smith in Nûmenor. Every forge has fallen silent under his hands. This is a past he has vanished from his tracks, never to return to.

But now he cannot help but be shaken. His eye glimmers through the darkness, down from the balcony to the base of the tower, then up again to the other rooms, leaning on his might. There shouldn’t be a forge there. Yet his inward glance halts, the arc of his mind stops, for suddenly he senses something, he sees someone there right in his room.

His eyes open wide, but when he sees the darkness again, the clanging persists, and the overthrowing of his watchful gaze allows him to only see something tinged in a strange shade of blue. It’s only an irritating glowing light, but there is a hammer in misty schemes that's been thrown down to the anvil. The steady rhythm suddenly erupts into a shattering, clanging sound, crashing into his alert mind, pulling him back. There’s someone there holding the hammer.

Clang. Clang. Clang.

Zigûr’s hands join the rhythm in an uncontrolled impulse, pulling his fingers together just as the hammer falls down on the stone again and again. He stares, clenches his hands to fists and follows the glimmering blueish light. No one is allowed to intrude on his majestic place, no one is allowed to trouble his mind like this. He always regains control.

The being standing there is bent over, focusing on his craft with his back to him. His wavering arm rushes up and down and up and down, creating the rhythm that has seeped down into Sauron's marrow.

(Continue the second chapter on AO3)

[nevermindigotthis]

Photos taken moments before disaster 😂 For context: this is from „The Harrowing“ by Chthonion, where Annatar/Sauron undergoes a redemption arc. As part of this he guides Feanor and his sons through the halls of mandos where they are confronted with tapestries depicting scenes from their lives. Eventually Annatar is shown the moment he killed Celebrimbor and just… freezes. And then Curufin punches him in the face, meanwhile Annatar‘s spirit kinda… shatters for a bit.

[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?

[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)

[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.

[markantonys]

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

[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.

[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.

[perlen-gold]

If I were to secretly nurse a fic in my head in which, shortly after the desctruction of the One Ring, the End of All Days nears and Sauron - of all things - has to be brought back in order to, strangely enough, help to prevent the Day Of Doom (or, rather, ensure the survival of Men and hobbits) against his will, being revived by a stranger accompanying Gandalf and his little band of hobbits?

The stranger is Melkor, btw.

If I were to entertain such an idea, purely hypothetically speaking, and if I were to find time to indulge in the writing of such nonsense would there be anyone interested to read?

[malkaleh]

No the thing that really gets me is like Sauron you fucker you could have had what you wanted if you’d, you know not been a possessive abusive pile of awful! Like you could have done it! Eru Iluvatar was like ‘hi have a redemption path’ and You Did Not Fucking Do It and now you have to live without Celebrimbor and Galadriel. You could have had the poly marriage of all time!

(This is not a serious post but it also kind of is)

(There’s an AU somewhere where he does take the redemption and let me say the ‘I’ve only had Celebrimbor, Galadriel, Elrond and Celeborn for like a day and a half but if anything happens to them I will kill everyone in Arda and also STOP HITTING ON THEM’ is real. Like one time Elrond tripped and anyway, that step is GONE)

Please I need headcanons about that one.

(It may have been a ‘listen Eonwe realising just how abusive Morgoth was and getting Mairon to Aman AU’ because I actually think if he’d gotten there it might have made a difference and also @verecunda has given me Eonwe feels)

[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: 324,529

[mirroringdust]

A christmas carol inspired story

Prologue

When the winds are safe

we sail to distant shores.

Beyond the hollow walls

there’s a longing for celebration.

We may find peace

and a raft to guide us

with its light towards home.

~

There’s this vision in his mind, pushing him on, keeping him going, allowing him to fulfil his purpose.

It’s a field of dark clouds and a rainy substance falling down on lost, lonely ruins, remnants of all the fights and battles. He stands there and stares at it all, his face a bitter façade. But there was no other way to reach this end, no other way to ultimate peace and order.

To rebuild on something without hope, set it on fire with a new one.

He had to bend them to his rule, he had to lead them from the darkness into the light. He had known the light once, but he had suffered so much pain to reach it again. One must go through suffering, he thinks, as the vision settles and the schemes become clearer.

There is only smoke covering the land, only plain mountain peaks and a desert of destruction, but he knows that is not all. He is not a destroyer, he is a creator, and beyond this destruction there rises something: a new life. People guided by his knowledge, by his plan, people with the will to build a better future and rise to the light.

It has been the hardest path ever for him to walk, but as he stands there, surrounded only by shadows, he can still see it, that this peace is beyond the horizon for them.

When there’s this vision, the music that surrounds the world is silent.

It does not matter that he sees only darkness, it does not matter that his path is a lonely one.

It is a sacrifice he is willing to make.

A path he will always walk.

STAVE 1 - A familiar visitor

When they pray to the Valar, he is more full of hate than ever. It’s these celebrations of Mettarë that take place on the remaining days of every year. He has witnessed them a few times since he stayed on this island full of despicable life, flashing of colours and deceitful enchantments around every corner. He had to tolerate some of the remaining festivities last year, but he has more power now and by this time in his plan he is powerful enough not to hide his resentment of these celebrations. Even more so, he has the power to suppress them.

He is the admirable one, and all will admire him, not the deceitful folk who are the faithless gods. They do not deserve such worship. Tar-Mairon does.

Continue on AO3

[constellationofaster]

In the wake of the end of season 2 (episode 8 spoilers)

I feel it's furthered my desire to keep working on the fic idea I have linked below and I even further believe that Sauron could have gone down this path following season 1 if he so chose/felt guided.

I've already been working on this (and had a plot summarized before I had posted this originally) and am wanting to have at least the first 3 chapters written before I start posting on ao3 (prologue and one and a half chapters are done).

I have to agree with Celebrimbor that Sauron is prisoner to the rings and I think crafting them is what fully led him into darkness as we see him at the end of the season. But even Sauron admits he does not see all paths.

A big part, to me, of Sauron's character is he works with the situation he's given, and does his best for his own goals to come to fruition. My first paragraph in my plot summary tells of his opportunistic nature. Let him tread another way.

I, like many of us who cling to fanfiction, love the what ifs, the AUs, and hey I love Sauron in his most twisted form, but I hope y'all are still interested in joining me to see what could have been had Sauron went down a different path (with Galadriel, of course).

[saurongorthaur9]

Chapter 30 of “Gorthauro Estel” has just been posted on both Fanfiction.net and Archive of Our Own for any interested parties.

Gorthauro Estel on FFN

Gorthauro Estel on AO3

In which Yavanna reaps her rewards, Sauron receives an unexpected gift, and in the distant past, Mairon passes the point of no return.

[likesdoodling]

So. I read a really cool fic recently called The Harrowing by Chthonion which I would highly highly recommend-

I absolutely love it so much-

:D:D

I'm gonna go with how my sister recommended it to me, since that was what got me excited about it-

Imagine~ Sauron trying to be a good person. And having a very hard time of it because he has these things... I've heard they're called 'feelings'... Anyway. He's finding it a bit hard to deal with, but long story short, think Sauron getting a second chance and go from there.

And if you have read it-

Then you probably know exactly which moments I'm referencing here, but just in case,

No. 1 is Finrod, just before Annatar is about to have his first full on emotional breakdown, and the No.2 is Maedhros saying thank you. Which is fairly obvious. But still.

I love this fic so much!!!

(this is definitely not the last fanart I'm gonna do from this. Chapter 39 has some amazing moments that I am so gonna draw when I next have time~)