The Havens of Umbar, TA 3016

They spotted land around noon a few days later, when the coast of Arda far south of the Havens of Umbar came into view. They turned north sailed not far offshore, hugging the coast. By midmorning the following day, the ship entered the long narrow firth which was home to the Corsairs, and they sailed east with land close on each side. By afternoon, they were tying up at the quay below the walls of Umbar. One member of Sauron's person guard was there watching for them. He left to fetch the rest of the guard, who assembled on the quay within a short time. The captain of the guard had been a little bit concerned when their master was a day late in returning, but he wouldn't have gotten really worried until the ship was a week or more overdue. Plus, the weather had been bad, with lines of squalls and heavy swells, and that always caused delays.

Sauron's guards had not been idle or wasted their time in port. They explored every tavern and inn in this large and international seaport, and could report on which had the best food, the best drink, and the best musical entertainment. They had also rented a large house, vacant while its merchant owner was in another realm purchasing luxury goods, in a quiet and secluded location at the edge of the city but still safely inside the city walls. The captain felt this provided better privacy and security, which were often the same thing, for his high profile master.

The captain realized that the security precautions probably weren't necessary. Umbar went back and forth between being controlled by Gondor and being controlled by Gondor's enemy, the Black Númenorians. The Black Númenorians were in power now. Gondor once installed a huge monument commemorating Sauron's capture here by Ar-Pharazôn. Almost as soon as they took control of the city, the Black Númenorians pulled it down. Sauron wasn't in any danger here in Umber. If his identity were discovered here, probably nothing would happen other than he would be mobbed by curious people who wanted to see a celebrity up close. But the captain wasn't taking any chances. There could be a Gondorian assassin in the crowd, and the captain felt that they should keep as low a profile as possible and not draw any attention to themselves.

The captain's plan was that they would go back to the house as inconspicuously as possibly, send one or two of their number out for food, and leave the next morning on horseback an hour before dawn to get well away from the city before anyone was awake and stirring.

That would have worked, if their master had seen the good sense in the plan and cooperated. But no. Sauron, a natural extrovert, did not like being cooped up. He minded it that he did not get to go out much. And tonight, he wanted to go out to the biggest, noisiest tavern in the Havens of Umbar, preferably one that drew a crowd from all corners of Arda.

So here they were, ordering dinner, drinking beer, and looking around the room at travelers even stranger then themselves. The captain had at least persuaded his high profile charges to exchange the fine garb of the Númenorian nobility for the plain tunics and leggings of ordinary people from these parts wore. The Captain had purchased inconspicuous clothes for them in town during his week of idleness, although they were intended for the ride home, not for a night of tavern-going.

At least they were seated at a large table against a wall. And at least Sauron had agreed to sit with his back to the wall, with a bodyguard on either side of him and a protective line of men-at-arms seated in a row on the far side of the table.

This tavern, the largest and most cosmopolitan in this bustling seaport, was known for its music. It had a stage where professionals hired by the management performed, but it also had a custom of amateur performances by the patrons. In fact, it was the amateur performances that the tavern was famous for, because people with talent came from far away to sing and play, and to hear others like themselves perform [1]. The professional performers were really just to provide background music before things really got going, which is to say, before the patrons had begun drinking and were still feeling a little bit inhibited and shy.

They heard a variety of really good music, singing a cappella or accompanied by harp or lute. The performers were mostly individuals and small groups of the mannish races. The atmosphere got more lively as the evening wore on. One of the customs of the establishment was challenges. The group that had just performed could challenge another table to perform next. If the next table didn't want to sing they could chose to forfeit, which meant they had to buy a round for the challenger's table.

There was a group of elves at one table. It was a mark of how cosmopolitan this city was, that elves would venture into this land controlled by friends of Mordor. But they were merchants and traders, and there was a profit to be made in Umbar for those who were brave enough to seek it, so here they were. They were looking standoffish and superior in the manner of elves everywhere. The elves were challenged to sing, and of course they accepted the challenge since they knew they were good. And they sang beautifully. Really beautifully. Theirs was simply the finest performance of the evening so far, nobody questioned it. When the last chord faded, there was a hushed silence in the tavern, and then a thundering round of applause that went on and on.

It so happened that the Mordor table was the one closest to the elves', so when the elves challenged the next group, it was themselves. The captain pulled out his purse with a heavy sigh, because he was worried about expenses, and started to ask the serving maid to bring a round to the elves' table.

"No. We accept the challenge." This was from Sauron. He was drunk.

The captain, first of all, did not want to do anything to draw attention to his high profile master. Secondly, he did not want to let his master to embarrass himself, although this was not officially part of the captain's job. But still.

Sauron stepped up onto the bench, collected his thoughts, and drew a deep breath. The captain thought, "At least he didn't climb up onto the table and draw even more attention to himself, especially if the table collapsed under his considerable weight." But he still thought this had disaster written all over it.

Sauron began his song. He only sang a few verses, but it was the most astonishingly beautiful thing the captain had ever heard. It was supernaturally beautiful. Actually, it probably was supernatural. What the captain really noticed were the faces of the elves. He couldn't have known, but the elves felt like they were hearing the opening notes of the Ainulindalë, the song of the Holy Ones that created the world. They listened with their jaws dropped open, transfixed. And when Sauron finished, they clapped harder than anyone. The elves, with all their sophistication and refinement, were the ones in the best position to appreciate what they'd just heard.

When Sauron finished his song and jumped down from the bench, Angmar noticed two of the elves elbowing each other in a "You do it", "No, you do it" kind of way. Finally both of them approached the table, looking shy.

"I wanted to ask, I just wondered, where else have you sung?"

"You mean, professionally?" Sauron asked. He knew he was good.

Angmar thought the elves were getting way too close to his Master, leaning across the table and peering into his face. Then all of a sudden, he understood. They were trying to get close enough to study his eyes. Based on his singing, they wanted to know if he had Maia eyes.

Angmar had always thought his Master had really strange eyes. The first time they met, when Angmar first came to Barad-dûr to study under the famous sorcerer, he noticed the pupils of Sauron's pale eyes were almond shaped. He assumed it was a flaw from birth and avoided mentioning it out of politeness. It wasn't very noticeable. He wouldn't have noticed at all, had Sauron's eyes been dark. But later, he learned it was a racial trait with a name: Maia eyes. All of the Holy Ones have eyes with off-round pupils, taller than they are wide.

Even in the dim light, the elves couldn't have failed to see the shape of his eyes, and they obviously knew what it meant.

"You sang in the Ainulindalë, didn't you?" one of the elves said. It was a statement, not a question.

Sauron smiled, and didn't answer.

Notes:

[1] The reader may recognize this as Gus O'Connor's Pub in Doolin, Ireland, world-famous for the music performed by its patrons.