No longer looking Westward
He stood, chained at the ship’s prow as he had been for the past three days. They moved him to a cabin at night, chained and locked in, which was beyond insulting. Where was he to go, surrounded first by King Ar-Pharazôn’s guard and entirely surrounded by the sea? He had willingly, for the most part, surrendered; his sword was given into the keeping of the royal steward; so why did these giant men* afford him no dignity?
At least they had left him his clothing and armour, though he knew why.** More than having nothing to fit him, unless it belonged to a cabin boy, they wanted to show him off when they arrived at the quays of Rómenna. Then they would surely take his armour of mithril and gold though it would be too small for any to wear-he had taken much time and allocated much energy into its making so that it was nearly indestructible. And they would just take it from him!
His temper flared again as it did numerous times each day when he thought of his situation. He could not have won, had to surrender to give himself time to think. Outwitting Ar-Pharazôn would take little effort, for the Man was blinded by his own greatness. Not so much effort as time: good thing then that he was immortal.
The seemingly endless sea did have something in it, something waiting-the island of humiliation. Sauron’s wrath grew so great that he thought his vision was rippling. No, it was truly doing so and it was not his own magic.
Several things happened simultaneously. His vision cleared: the rolling deck of the king’s ship was replaced by solid ground. The chains were gone. His clothing and armour were completely intact even to the articulated greaves. And his sword was returned, in its sheath on his back with its weight comforting him even as he took in his surroundings.
It was not like any city he had ever seen. The buildings were not stone and there were tall poles with some sort of frosted globes on the tops. And it was so clean-no smell of animals or filth that plagued human cities. Did Men live here? He had seen nothing like this among the Eldar, that was certain.
“Perhaps,” he thought, “perhaps this is something new. Could Morgoth have aided me from wherever he was scattered? It matters not, I am free again.” Free, and alone. He needed to explore and to get information. If no one knew him here, then he would be safe hiding under another name. And he looked like one of the Firstborn-the possibilities were staggering.
For now, his mind worked quickly to develop a story while his feet moved slowly down the strange street. Were all of those windows made of glass?
*Men of Numenor were regularly seven feet tall, while Sauron/Annatar is only 6'4". Ar-Pharazon's contemporary, who survived the usurper king's stupidity, was Elendil the Tall. He stood 7'3" -- and Aragorn had to wield his sword reforged. Harsh.
**Clothing and armour: Upon entering the village he still wears his ceremonial armour, which he wore when surrendering to the Numenorean king. He has no helm. He wears a breastplate and back--only slightly less decorated than the front--shoulder guards, upper and lower arm guards, elbows, and very finely articulated gloves. These arm pieces do not go around his arm, they are just on the outer arm and the back of his hand. He has leg pieces that extend up to the tops of his thighs--mithril chain mail skirting hangs from the front and back of his chestplate to cover the unarmoured area. He has knee pieces and shin guards. There is no armour on the tops of his boots.
The armour is mithril, thus thin, light, and very strong. It is edged in gold and has inset gems--adamant, ruby, emerald, and small white pearls. Deeply inset on the upper arms and breastplate are several pearls the size of grapes. (One per arm and three on breastplate.) These five pearls are black.
His smallclothes would be difficult to recognise as such--they are rather tight and made of white silk. They are about the length of bike shorts and can be unlaced down both sides as well as in front. His trousers are dark blue in a sturdy weave of hithlen (this is the cloth the cloaks from Lorien are made of. It will not make his trousers difficult to see.) His boots are finest black leather, socks white wool. His shirt is silk and even the padding on his armour is silk. His tunic sleeves match the garment, both a rich blue the colour of the summer sky. (Not pale sky blue, closer to royal but not.) The bottom of the tunic sticks out from under the chain skirting by a decent amount and the edging is covered with embroidery in darker blue, gold, and mithril thread. His cloak is silk velvet in a blood red so intense that, were it not for the sheen of the silk, it would look painted. The gold and jeweled clasp he made himself.
He wears his broadsword on his back, drawn with the right hand. The sheath is as finely made as everything else he wears. He will admit to making the gold and jeweled grip/pommel/crosspiece but not the blade. He did make it, but he won't say that. This is a full two-handed broadsword five feet long.
Vain much? He has no actual jewelery on his person. Not even One Ring.
FYI: It's Sauron, who managed to lie to Galadriel and Celeborn (and many others) about who he was for six hundred years--Celeborn never suspected a thing. I don't think there's anyone in the village who will see through his lies. Possibly Trance, but I don't know. Also don't know about Schuldig. It might hurt him to read Sauron's mind. And sorry--this sounds kinda rude. Must be in character a bit.
At least they had left him his clothing and armour, though he knew why.** More than having nothing to fit him, unless it belonged to a cabin boy, they wanted to show him off when they arrived at the quays of Rómenna. Then they would surely take his armour of mithril and gold though it would be too small for any to wear-he had taken much time and allocated much energy into its making so that it was nearly indestructible. And they would just take it from him!
His temper flared again as it did numerous times each day when he thought of his situation. He could not have won, had to surrender to give himself time to think. Outwitting Ar-Pharazôn would take little effort, for the Man was blinded by his own greatness. Not so much effort as time: good thing then that he was immortal.
The seemingly endless sea did have something in it, something waiting-the island of humiliation. Sauron’s wrath grew so great that he thought his vision was rippling. No, it was truly doing so and it was not his own magic.
Several things happened simultaneously. His vision cleared: the rolling deck of the king’s ship was replaced by solid ground. The chains were gone. His clothing and armour were completely intact even to the articulated greaves. And his sword was returned, in its sheath on his back with its weight comforting him even as he took in his surroundings.
It was not like any city he had ever seen. The buildings were not stone and there were tall poles with some sort of frosted globes on the tops. And it was so clean-no smell of animals or filth that plagued human cities. Did Men live here? He had seen nothing like this among the Eldar, that was certain.
“Perhaps,” he thought, “perhaps this is something new. Could Morgoth have aided me from wherever he was scattered? It matters not, I am free again.” Free, and alone. He needed to explore and to get information. If no one knew him here, then he would be safe hiding under another name. And he looked like one of the Firstborn-the possibilities were staggering.
For now, his mind worked quickly to develop a story while his feet moved slowly down the strange street. Were all of those windows made of glass?
*Men of Numenor were regularly seven feet tall, while Sauron/Annatar is only 6'4". Ar-Pharazon's contemporary, who survived the usurper king's stupidity, was Elendil the Tall. He stood 7'3" -- and Aragorn had to wield his sword reforged. Harsh.
**Clothing and armour: Upon entering the village he still wears his ceremonial armour, which he wore when surrendering to the Numenorean king. He has no helm. He wears a breastplate and back--only slightly less decorated than the front--shoulder guards, upper and lower arm guards, elbows, and very finely articulated gloves. These arm pieces do not go around his arm, they are just on the outer arm and the back of his hand. He has leg pieces that extend up to the tops of his thighs--mithril chain mail skirting hangs from the front and back of his chestplate to cover the unarmoured area. He has knee pieces and shin guards. There is no armour on the tops of his boots.
The armour is mithril, thus thin, light, and very strong. It is edged in gold and has inset gems--adamant, ruby, emerald, and small white pearls. Deeply inset on the upper arms and breastplate are several pearls the size of grapes. (One per arm and three on breastplate.) These five pearls are black.
His smallclothes would be difficult to recognise as such--they are rather tight and made of white silk. They are about the length of bike shorts and can be unlaced down both sides as well as in front. His trousers are dark blue in a sturdy weave of hithlen (this is the cloth the cloaks from Lorien are made of. It will not make his trousers difficult to see.) His boots are finest black leather, socks white wool. His shirt is silk and even the padding on his armour is silk. His tunic sleeves match the garment, both a rich blue the colour of the summer sky. (Not pale sky blue, closer to royal but not.) The bottom of the tunic sticks out from under the chain skirting by a decent amount and the edging is covered with embroidery in darker blue, gold, and mithril thread. His cloak is silk velvet in a blood red so intense that, were it not for the sheen of the silk, it would look painted. The gold and jeweled clasp he made himself.
He wears his broadsword on his back, drawn with the right hand. The sheath is as finely made as everything else he wears. He will admit to making the gold and jeweled grip/pommel/crosspiece but not the blade. He did make it, but he won't say that. This is a full two-handed broadsword five feet long.
Vain much? He has no actual jewelery on his person. Not even One Ring.
FYI: It's Sauron, who managed to lie to Galadriel and Celeborn (and many others) about who he was for six hundred years--Celeborn never suspected a thing. I don't think there's anyone in the village who will see through his lies. Possibly Trance, but I don't know. Also don't know about Schuldig. It might hurt him to read Sauron's mind. And sorry--this sounds kinda rude. Must be in character a bit.