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Angmar was a young king, and he ruled a young kingdom. His forefathers had come from Númenor the Great, but he meant to raise up his own realm in Middle-earth.
Sauron came to him with the light of the Undying Land in his eyes, bright as flame, full of golden promises. Angmar welcomed Sauron into his kingdom. Sauron was lord of his own realm. Sauron had left Valinor, as Angmar had left Númenor. Both seeking to make their destiny in Middle-earth.
"We are much alike, you and I," Sauron said, as they looked out the arched window at the mountains.
"So you say." It was diplomacy, it was combat, it was flirtation. "No one else is like you."
Sauron laughed. It was entrancing. "I was there before the beginning of the world, and I intend to outlast it beyond its ending. But ah, what lies between! The wonders I have seen. The wonders you could share."
He knew what Sauron was asking. He knew Sauron wanted him as a vassal to his lordship. Wanted him in other ways. Wanted him in all the ways. "You would have me give up my kingdom?"
"In exchange for a greater kingdom."
Lost Beleriand was sunken under the Sea, and no living man had walked its woods. It would fade into the mists of half remembered history. Angmar wanted to protect his kingdom from such a doom. If there was again war between gods and immortals, he had strength of arms and the power of magic. He might even save something from ruin. But he could not stand against the tide of time.
Sauron sensed his thoughts. "Mortal men are doomed to die. You need not be among them."
"What do I have to do?" Angmar breathed.
"I have a gift for you." Sauron brought out a ring of gold. "An artefact of great power. This is the token of my promise to you."
Angmar had some gift of sorcery, and he could sense its power. He was seized with the sudden longing to take it in hand. He knew he could wield it.
It was the custom of his people to wed with a ring. But he needed no heir if he could reign forever. He needed no consort if he could pledge himself to a god.
Angmar opened his hand, palm down, and held it out to Sauron.
"Allow me," Sauron said, and slid it over his finger.
Angmar felt the potent energy in it, with a shiver of hope and dread. Some essence that was Sauron, entwined about his flesh and spirit.
"Never let it leave you," Sauron said. "And you shall never die."
"How many other rings are there?" Other kings, he meant. He found himself jealous of sharing his status with anyone else.
"The great work requires many hands." Sauron smiled, indulgent, knowing. "Middle-earth is a vast realm, and there is much to set in order. There will be a chosen elite to carry out my plans. But you will always be first in their ranks. You will always be first in all things."
He clasped their hands together, in the way of bride and groom plighting their troth.
His hands were empty, Angmar noted, where a ring should be. The only imbalance between them.
Sauron caught his glance. His golden eyes missed nothing. "One day, I will show you what I have wrought."