Of Rings and Friendship

He was cowering. No other word for it. Even after the angelic armies of the Valar had reduced the once mighty fortress of Angband to rubble, he continued to hide in the caves of the Mountains. He was not alone, orcs and the occasional troll ran by, running from the great destruction that had been wrought. Fights would breakout between rivaling bands and all was chaos. When his master was still in command, such behavior would've led to a swift execution. But now Morgoth was gone, banished to the void beyond the world. His once powerful armies now shattered and rudderless. Sauron, Morgoth's Second-in-Command would've normally taken control, but after witnessing the wrath of the Valar and the utter destruction of an entire continent and its population, Sauron was scared. He had never felt this particular emotion before, but he had used it to great extent.

Now, as he sat in his cave in the Blue Mountains, he thought. All the lives he had destroyed in the pursuit of order. All the destruction he had directly caused. As he sat, he thought of his old master Aulë. The one who he had learned the skills of a blacksmith and the love of crafting things. Perhaps, if he pleaded with the Valar he could be forgiven in time. As he thought about it, that brief moment of hope was dashed. They would sooner banish him as well than accept him back into the fold. He understood. But he couldn't remain here. He had to leave, find a world out of Eru's