A/N: I am so sorry how my other version of this fiction turned out and am somewhat upset no-one told me it sucked so badly that it ended up on The Worst LOTR Fanfics. I was quite depressed about it, but I went to my Beta and this is what she came up with. Personally I think she did a wonderful job. THANK YOU WENDY!!!
Now you guys get to read the updated version of Fate. Me and Wendy hope you like it!
Disclaimer: I own nothing of Tolkien's.
Ripping! Tearing! Fire! Pain! Sucking! Pulling! Pushing! Pressure! Gone! Gone! Gone! Taken! Stolen! Destroyed! Fire! Fire! FIRE! PAIN! PRESSURE! RELEASE!!
Blackness. Nothing. Gone, all gone.
The Ring is gone.
His very hope of power, of potency, of being able to retrieve that which he had lost for millennia was lost and gone forever. Now there was no hope, only deep black darkness, in which he tumbled and rolled, flailing desperately as he attempted to find something to anchor him to a here and a now he could recognise and stamp his authority upon. But he had no authority now, and power was far, far beyond him. It occurred to him that it was the very exertions he was making to attempt to control his flight that caused him to tumble so, and he willed himself to stillness. He floated where he was, in the space between what is, what was, and what might have been.
He opened his eyes, and took in nothing. Where he was there was nothing. He knew, oh he knew where he was. The Void. Melkor his master had dreaded this place, because he believed he could have no influence here. The first of the Valar to know terror, he had finally been mastered by it. His arrest and enchainment were, in the end, but a formality. His lieutenant, however, was more cunning, and had lasted longer. His lips twisted into a malicious smile. He believed he could escape this place - all he needed was time. His smile slipped slowly from his face. There was a sound, or was there? He tensed and stood as still as stone, but nothing happened. Nothing at all.
"There is no life in the Void, only death," hissed a voice.
Startled, he spun around, but he couldn't tell where the voice came from.
Fear. He was unaccustomed to such an emotion. In fact, now that he felt it, he hated it with all his black heart. A voice laughed at him, mocking him, and he hated that even more. "Now you know what it is like to feel fear." The voice was redolent with cold hatred and revulsion.
"You dare to mock me? You-!"
"You had the audacity to mock Núruainu, The Angel of Death." The disembodied voice stated.
He sniffed, "A lowly Maia who was given a task that was above her."
"Ahh…but could you do the job she was meant to do?"
He did not answer. Suddenly the source of the voice stood before him in all her terrible glory. "How long did you think it would be before we met, O Brother of mine?" she asked him, "for how long did you imagine you would be able to escape judgment?"
For as long as possible; as long as I had the power to escape.
"But your power has diminished, hasn't it? By the acts of a being you deem no more worthy than the filth beneath your feet. Tell me, do you deserve redemption, Sauron? Because, of all the wicked deeds you have done, the most serious was that you insulted Him; He Who gave life to you and to all other beings. He gave you a chance to be reconciled, but you ran away. He gave the same chance to Melkor, who also spurned His loving kindness. But what will you do now, Sauron? You continued what you should have stopped: enslaving His Children, torturing and murdering them, transforming them into monsters. Great is His wrath, Sauron; towards Melkor, your true master, and towards you. Do you still believe you have the power to escape?"
Yes.
There was a moment of silence before he spoke. "And what can you, Núruainu, do about this? You cannot touch me! You had little power over me even when I was at my weakest, what makes you think you have that power now?" Sauron wanted to believe this. He had to, in order to begin the process of effecting a plan of escape. To capitulate was to abandon all hope.
"Your arrogance and pride have blinded you! Melkor said nothing of such matters to me or to Him; maybe his sight was keener than yours, Sauron, Thrice Defeated Lord of Darkness. Has it never occurred to you how close I was to you at some points of your reign? How you were able to see the Angel of Death at the strongest and the weakest moments of your life? Enough of this; it is time." She grabbed both of his wrists. "He wants to speak with you. You are to be judged, and called to account for your crimes. All of them," Núruainu stated, and pulled him through the Halls of Time.
She stopped before two massive doors. Before them stood the Valar, magnificent and terrible to behold. One Vala, Tulkas, stepped forward and took Sauron from Núruainu, looking at him with disgust written all over his face. It was he who led him to Eru Ilúvatar where his doom awaited him. The other Valar silently followed them, except Manwë, who stood before her, looking quizzically at her. "Will you not follow?" he asked her.
"No," Núruainu replied, "I will not. I must continue what I was meant to do. I will not abandon them." She turned away. She would rather not see her brother's demise through to the bitter end. It was enough for her that he was finally facing the judgement that had been prepared for him since he first joined Melkor's rebellion. The thought of it filled her with horror, for she had hoped at one time that he would repent, but he had proved to be incorrigible. She preferred not to have to face the appalling litany of evils he had committed while he'd had the chance to do so. There was enough sorrow in her existence as it was. Besides, she had to continue the dread task appointed her. She was needed.
"It will be the last you will ever see of him," Manwë told her gently.
"I know," she replied. Bowing her head, she continued, "I would prefer to remember how he once was, before he turned his heart to wickedness." She gestured to the Void and to Ea. She had work to do. It was her purpose, and she had long ago embraced it.
"You will find what you're truly looking for. Eru will not let those loyal to him live partially whole," Manwë said, hoping to offer her some small crumbs of comfort. "Have hope, Núruainu. You will find it." He turned to follow the others.
To his back she whispered, "I am nothing but death, there is no-one for me. I will return to Arda Marred, until the end of all things." She turned away.
Hesitating for a moment, Núruainu turned back to see Sauron one last time, and, as he looked back at her, she caught a brief glimpse of him as he should have been. There was real fear in his eyes now, it had humbled him at last. She turned away again; it was time to return anyway. She could already feel the dull pulling sensation that called her to each death; no matter what happened, she still had her work to do, and nothing would prevent her from doing it.
The End.