Work Text:
Second Age
Mount Orodruin
The Rings to corrupt humans and dwarves were finally finished and forged. Even the three rings for the elves, the three rings he coveted most, the masterpiece of his beloved Celebrimbor, were forged. All that was missing was a single ring to rule and subdue them all, the centerpiece of his grand design for Middle Earth. Sauron was convinced he could recover the power of the three elven rings, and above all possess them to prevent their hope-filled power thwarting his own plans.
The ancient Maia of Aulë, stood in the caverns of the Mount Doom to finally forge his achievement. He stood before this furnace of lava, the bowels of Middle-earth, ready to participate in its creation. The fire was all around him in a chaotic, viscous motion. None of the orcs dared disturb their master for fear of ending up in the lava for eternity if they dared to bother him. So, Sauron had all the peace he needed to concentrate on practicing his craft of forging and finally creating this one ring.
In his coal-black hands, eaten away by the darkness and corruption of Morgoth, the dark lord held an ingot made of the purest gold and silver harvested in Númenor in the eyes of the Valar. With the necessary tools, he continued the work, rolling the ingot into the desired shape. Sauron was unaware of the passage of time, a fact unknown to him, and nothing could stop him like the primal needs of the first-born or even of men. His body only felt the heat, without feeling it: he was sweating profusely all the same. To feel more at ease, Sauron forged only in his pants, free to move without cloth over his torso and arms. He never stopped smiling as his masterpiece progressed.
Then, he assembled the gold band to form a circle. Sauron concentrated on aligning the two ends perfectly. He looked at all sides to ensure that he could weld them together, so that they touched perfectly. Only two steps left: hammering and engraving, the ultimate sacrifice. The Maia looked for his mandrel, a cylindrical tool on which to place the ring and hammer it to perfect its shape and size, removing any trace of irregularity. He breathed in it was also time to pick up Fëanor's hammer and reunite with an old friend, whose presence he missed at every moment. Sauron took hold of the tool's chiseled gold and silver handle. And the connection was immediate: Celebrimbor stood before him in milky, gaunt, ghostly form. His soul was connected to the object and indirectly to Sauron. He had warned his lover that he was going to make him live in another way.
The Dark Lord looked Celebrimbor straight in the eye, tears welling up in his eyes, but he hid them from the elf's gaze by turning his head away. Celebrimbor, the only being who made him feel the weak emotions of love and need for another being.
“You did it, didn't you? I'm still half alive, my spirit imprisoned in the hammer.”
“I couldn't bring myself to let you leave me, for eternity, I wanted you to stay by my side. And above all, to admire this great sacrifice for the greatest creation Arda has ever known, a unique ring!”
“And are you that happy to control all forms of life with your rings? To redesign the world according to your own will? To control everything, even the thoughts of those living in Middle Earth. But you've hidden the three elven rings, which you'll never get your hands on!”
“Once I can finally take control of them, I'll get my hands on them and then, in my hands, the rings will cease to propagate their hope and illusion of a better world, which doesn't exist. Then the elves will be powerless in their corner, and Middle Earth will be mine at last.”
“You're so confident of your success, but I can assure you that your opponents are smarter than you and you'll never be able to corrupt them, no matter how much effort and sacrifice resides in this unique ring. You never touched these rings during their conception, and you never will.”
“You underestimate me again,” Sauron forced, annoyed.
“We shall see...”
Celebrimbor was silent, too impatient to finally know the ring that would be the reason for Sauron's downfall, how much he valued the sacrifice to create an object of power as he imagined it. Much more than just being bound to his grandfather's hammer, the elf could know his former lover's every thought and thus torment him. He had become his conscience with Manwë's intervention, of which Sauron knew nothing. Yet another way of slowing him down in his quest for absolute control and perfection by his own standards.
Sauron resumed his creative process, hammering out the final stage.
“True creation requires sacrifice,” he murmured.
He had finally completed the finishing touches on the ring, and all that remained was to give it power. Sauron took it in both hands before closing his eyes and concentrating on all its strength and essence for his powers. Gradually, they left him and were transferred in their entirety to the ring. Gradually, Maia's strength diminished along with his power. Even though this burst of energy consumed him and made him bend his legs, he kept going, right to the end.
“Ash nazg durbatulûk. Ash nazg gimbatul. Ash nazg thrakatulûk agh burzum-ishi krimpatul. (A ring to rule them all, a ring to find them, a ring to bring them all and bind them into the darkness.)”
And the rest of his essence left him to make the ring shine. Pleased with the result, Sauron rose panting to the flames surrounding him and dipped the ring into them. Thus, his last words in black speech, a language developed only for orcs and his servants, could be linked forever to the artifact. Celebrimbor looked at him, still helpless, but he knew that the moment he'd been waiting for was about to arrive: the resistance of elven rings to darkness, he could feel it.
The Maia raised the single ring before him, proud of the result of this object satisfying his need for perfection, forever linked to his essence and spirit.
“You've bound yourself to the ring, it makes you immortal because it's bound to you, but it's also your deepest vulnerability: if the ring is destroyed, then you'll cease to exist,” Celebrimbor prophesied.
“ A necessary sacrifice for greater greatness!”
His laugh echoed off the cavern walls, so impatient was he to control everything and everyone. Finally, Sauron slipped his ring onto his middle finger and closed his eyes to better appreciate how he felt, this sudden surge of power blowing him away. Once again, he laughed out loud at the sight of the many places in Middle-earth, and especially at the elves, their wearers: Galadriel, Círdan and Gil-galad. From the cake, he could feel the spirits of the three elves at one with his thoughts. So the dark lord could influence their choice.
Unfortunately for him, the three elf bearers felt the growing darkness and, their thoughts filled with darkness, one by one they removed it from their fingers. The last thing Sauron saw was Círdan, Galadriel and Gil-galad cursing him and exposing all their joy and light in his dark mind. He screamed, shouted and withdrew the single ring in anger, throwing it at his worktable.
Celebrimbor took advantage of this moment to intervene once again and torment Sauron a little more.
“As I predicted, Annatar, the elves saw through you from the start, and I have no doubt they'll be using their respective rings again. They know what they're risking, and they'll hide them from you and the whole world. I told you so, melon. “
Sauron turned to Celebrimbor as if to strangle him with rage but stopped short when he realized he was no longer made of flesh.
“And if I throw the hammer into this lava, you'll finally stop tormenting me! “he raged.
“And you'll find yourself alone once again, and I'm certain that your initial fate will allow me to cling forever to your conscience, and I'll never let go of you to make you regret it again and again!” promised Celebrimbor.
The blacksmith took Fëanor's hammer in his hands and held it up as a threat before Celebrimbor's eyes. He laughed a victorious laugh.
“You don't scare me, shadow of Morgoth!”
“We'll see!”
The hammer was thrown into the lava. Sauron hoped that Celebrimbor's spirit would vanish before him, but to no avail. Once again, he let out a terrifying scream, out of anger and despair that nothing was working in his favor.
“I'm afraid we're now one and the same, Mairon, I warned you.”
How did he know her real name? What was this sorcery? A Valar trick? It couldn't be! Celebrimbor had helped him make rings for dwarves and men, as well as sharing his bed. Does Manwë deserve so much clemency from the Valar?
“You will not stop me in my conquest and corruption!”
“Oh, don't be so sure, Mairon.”
And before he could react, he no longer felt Celebrimbor's presence, as if he'd vanished into thin air. What was this trick? With this trick, he had forgotten the unique ring, which he picked up from the table, put on again and never left. If he couldn't reach the elves directly and control their rings, he was going to corrupt men! Those chosen from among the Númenorians, the Orientals, the commanders of Dol Guldur and the Haradrim. He hadn't said his last word, and clearly nothing could dissuade him from his grand plan, not even Celebrimbor's powerful voice echoing in his head.