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A Fair Trial
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A Fair Trial

Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings, Unfinished Tales and the Silmarillion belong to J.R.R. Tolkien. The Knights of the Square Table belongs to Monty Python. Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling. Christopher Lee´s manicurist belongs to New Line Cinema. No Maiar were harmed in the making of this fic.

Warning: Stupid and rather obscure humour.

(There´s another note at the end.)


“It isn´t going to work.”

The figure of the limping old war refugee in rags shifted and turned into a small child with an innocent pout, then into a nauseatingly big-eyed puppy, and then back into a young man with brown curls who glared at the lady sitting on a chair next to the window.

“What do you know?”

She shrugged, letting go of a sigh.

“They´ll see through you.”

The young man frowned. After barely a moment of thought, his eyes gleamed with a new idea.

“Not if they´re too distracted.” he exclaimed brightly, and shapeshifted again. At once, long strands of raven-black hair fell down his back, while his face was scrunched up into an image of alabaster and ivory-sculpted Elven beauty. His eyes went from black to blue, and a scant, very tight dress covered his impressing array of female charms.

Satisfied with the result, (s)he strutted across the room, without paying any mind to the lady´s shocked and outraged look.

“This one worked well enough with the Lord of Angband...”

“Stop impersonating my daughter! It´s... it´s disgusting!”

A long smile was the only answer she got, as if he was lost in recollections of an especially gratifying lascivious experience.

“My King seemed to be thinking otherwise as they had sex on the throne room, in front of all those werewolves and Balrogs...”

Colour suddenly drained away from her face.

“They what??!!”

“I remember her as she stood in the middle of that big, dimly-lit throne room... and then she began to dance and sing to that slow music... and my King watched her with an entranced expression, following her every movement until he...”

“Until he?” In tension, Melian thumped her companion in the head so he would stop drooling. “Until he what?”

Sauron sighed.

“Until he felt asleep. Darn, everything went downhill from there.”

For what would probably have been a very long amount of time, both Maiar stared at each other without saying a word. After a while, Melian´s eyes were narrowed in a gesture of shocked incredulity.

“So the rumours were true? You... you´ve never had any, then?”

“What do you mean, I n...? oh.”

Sauron´s Luthien face went at least three different shades of red, and he started to sputter incomprehensibly.

“Why... it´s absurd, of course, there was that time when I... I mean, that´s obvious that...!”

Melian arched an eyebrow.

After another round of staring, and an array of even purpler hues in his face, Sauron finally looked away in defeat.

“Okay. I didn´t. What about it anyway?”

“You are even more of a loser than what I had thought.”

The fallen Maia glared, trying to regain his badly wounded dignity somehow.

“I am not a loser, woman. I am the Lord of Werewolves! And I will let you know that I will not stand for any verbal abuse from the likes of you!”

“Oh, sorry. “she sneered. “My baby daughter told me loads of embarrassing stories about one Sauron the Sissy and his Embarrassing Naked Flight from Tol-in-Gaurhoth. I assumed it was you.”

Nettled, he kicked the chair where he had once been sitting, and yelled in pain as he just remembered that his feet were soft-skinned and bare.

“She cheated. She brought that stupid horde of grizzly bears with her. And for the third-thousandth time, my name is not Sauron!”

Unfortunately enough, before she could open her mouth again to contrast their different versions of past events- the only distraction that they had left since they were imprisoned in that rotten place by the Host of the Valar-, the sound of approaching steps made them fall silent. The door creaked as it fell open, pushed by someone too strong for a mere Elf-wrought makeshift building. Immediately, Sauron picked up the chair and sat down in well-behaved silence.

Eonwë, Lord of the Maiar and Herald of Manwë Súlimo (with caps), blinked several times to get used to the light. The first thing his eyes fell upon was a beautiful, dark-haired Elf-maiden staring at the ceiling with a rather suspicious innocent expression.

Aha!” he exclaimed. Then, coughing twice, he advanced some steps towards her. “I speak those words to the Maiarin woman known in these lands as Melian, former gardener of...”

Sauron´s well-behaved silence turned into a confusing, murderous blur. After a second, a warrior clad in a spiky iron armour with horns stood in place of the maiden angrily yelling: “Ni! Ni!”

Melian sighed. So much for good intentions.

“I am Melian, my lord.”

Eonwë coughed loudly, staring pompously at her as if this would cover his blunder, while Sauron went back to the young man with brown curls. At least he had the decency to look slightly ashamed at his loss of composure.

Ahem. As I was saying... “Manwë´s Herald (with caps) continued, unfolding a ridiculously long roll of paper. “I speak those words to the Maiarin woman known in these lands as Melian, former gardener and bird-keeper at the Gardens of Lórien. Melian, you are accused of the following crimes: illegal embodiment, el-da-rophilia... oh, wait...”

Falling suddenly silent, Eonwë began to fumble with the papers as if he had lost something very important. Confused, the Maia turned towards Sauron, who was sitting at his side.


When he ignored her, she elbowed him on the ribs.

“Ouch! What´s the matter?”

“What´s eldarophilia?”

“Huh?” His confusion immediately turned to smugness. “Why do you ask me?”

She clenched her teeth in frustration, then decided by the rustling sound of papers that their accuser was occupied for the time being. Giving a deep sigh, she forced herself to look pleasant.

“Because you´re supposed to be the smart one.”

Sauron´s infuriating smugness turned into an even more infuriating smirk. Just when she was wondering whether it would be more satisfying to just punch him in the jaw, he bent over her ear and whispered something.

Melian´s face turned five different shades of red.

“It wasn´t like that!” she shouted. “I... vehemently protest!”

“Ah? You do?” Keeping the rebellious papers in a strong grip, Eonwë stared at her with a strange mixture of revulsion and fascination. “Will you deny that you had a daughter with one Elu Thingol of Doriath, Beleriand?”

Suddenly very interested in the patterns of the old rug in the floor, the Maia shook her head.

“My... actions all followed the Music.”

Next to her, Sauron snorted. Eonwë sneered.

“Oh, of course. The Music! That´s what they always say. Oh, I didn´t mean to break the Lamps, it was the Music! I didn´t mean to rebel, it was the Music! I didn´t mean to steal the Silmarils, it was the Music! I didn´t mean to swallow the Two Trees up, it was the Music!”

Melian bit her lip, feeling a sudden urge to cry. Sauron mumbled something terribly irreverent about Eru´s Greatest Hits, and she pinched him on the arm. Hard.

“Ouch! What was that for?”

“Silence!” The Herald of Manwë (w.c.) regained the spotlight annoyedly. “You are also accused of setting up an illegal enterprise in Doriath, Beleriand.”

“A what?”

“Did you, or did you not build an illegal Valinor replica and trick half of the Teleri host into staying there instead of sailing to the Undying Lands? And didn´t you keep all the profits for yourself, cheating Manwë of his rightful percentage?”

Her eyes widened in angry denial.

“I did not trick them! They wanted to stay because the taxes were lower!”

“Aha! Ahaha!” Eonwë pointed at her and let go of a string of guttural noises of excitement. “Illegal competition! You´re making your situation worse!”

Melian wiped her eyes with a ferocious swipe of her hand. Then, she stomped her foot.

It was not fair.

“And now as for you, the Maiarin man known in these lands as Sauron, Gorthaur, and future Necromancer, Annatar, Lidless Eye... ehm, forget that. Damn foresight flashes. What was I saying then... Maiarin man known as Sauron, Gorthaur...”

“And Lord of Werewolves.” the defendant reminded him with a dignified glare.

Ahem. Former apprentice of the Lord Aulë in jewelry and smithcraft, and accused of...” A renewed rustling of papers followed, but this time no one made a comment. “let´s see... interesting... really interesting...”

“Of course it is.” Sauron boasted with a proud grin. Melian huffed and looked away.

“You are accused of first, second and third degree murder and torture... harming the natural environment... leaving Valinor without paying your check... illegal Animagus transformation...”

For a moment, Melian forgot her sulk and stared about in surprise.

“What on Arda does that mean?”

Both Eonwë and Sauron looked at her in slightly commiserative disdain, as if pitying her for her stupidity in not knowing the obvious. None of them answered the question, though, which led her to guess that they didn´t know either.


“And furthermore, the House of Finarfin has filed a complaint against you, accusing you of mauling to death their eldest son Finrod, also known as Felagund, also known as Nóm.”

Sauron´s fine nose was slightly wrinkled, in a mighty show of self-righteous indignation.

Mauling him? Oh, please!” He laughed. “Me, mauling him! I have heard many ridiculous stories since I was brought here, but none as ludicrous as this one!”

Eonwë stared at him, furious for being interrupted again.

“Do you deny it?”

“Of course! As everybody present could testify, he mauled me. If I mauled him back, it was in the exercise of my legitimate right of self-defence.”


“It´s sheer logic, my lord, supported by the weight of facts. I was not in his fortress when the incident happened. He was in my fortress. If he travelled all the way from Nargothrond and crossed my land to barge in, enter and attack me there, how wouldn´t I be able to plead self-defence? Or do you think I sent him an invitation so we could have tea and a mauling session?”

More noise of rustling papers.

“Actually” Eonwë said in his most petulant tone, “you were in his fortress.”

Sauron shook his head, unfazed.

“I beg to disagree. According to the latest Beleriand laws on property, discussed in an interterritorial council after the restructuring of the soil at the Dagor Bragollach, anyone who occupied a place for more than a year, a month and a day automatically became its rightful owner. The law was signed by the most prominent landholders, including King Thingol of Doriath, King Fingon of Hithlum, King Melkor of Angband, Círdan of the Falas, Maedhros of Himring, the President of the Belegost Dwarven Republic, the...”

A-hem!” Eonwë seemed now to be growing more agitated at each passing second. Melian almost felt tempted to pity him. Almost.

“In any case, I will tell you the full version of events. That band of thugs, including a certain criminal whose terrible deeds had led King Melkor to the desperate measure of setting a lavish price on his head, entered our territory without permission. Even more, they treacherously slew an Orc army in their sleep, and barged into my fortress illegally and under false identities. Fortunately, I found out who they were before they could kill me in my sleep as well, and seeing their scheme discovered, they attacked me. I still hold deep scars of that heartless monster´s fangs.”

Eonwë´s eyes were about to bulge out. Melian sighed. The feeling that she should have run away with Morgoth and learned useful things instead of being stuck with a grumpy husband and a people who didn´t ever do anything more exciting than song contests was growing swiftly and steadily in her heart.

“And instead of bringing this to court, I simply let the matter rest, out of the goodness of my heart, and never...”

“You have the right not to say a word until you are in the presence of your lawyer.” the Herald of Manwë Súlimo (w.c.) announced rather loudly. Now it was Sauron´s turn to arch his eyebrow.

“Oh, and, speaking of our lawyer. Who is he?”

Eonwë looked much less stressed now. Melian decided that this was a bad sign.

“Actually, I was waiting for you to ask this question.” He pointed at the door with a gesture of his hand. “You may enter now.”

The door creaked as it was pushed open, and a second figure entered the room and adopted a proud pose at Eonwë´s side. Melian and Sauron´s jaws slackened in unison.

Him!” Sauron hissed, as soon as he could manage to get anything past his throat which was not a snarl or a girly whimper. Melian stared wide eyed at the smug and confident little man.

“This- must be a joke... right?”

“If you are afraid of the upcoming trial, I have everything planned already, my lady, so do not worry!” the newcomer said, twisting a book in his long... claws?

“I thought that this was going to be a fair trial.”Sauron protested. For once, Melian felt the disturbing need to agree with him, but before she could open her mouth Eonwë himself intervened.

“You should be thankful. The only Maiar who were willing to defend you were him... and Iarwain.”

“So the job of course fell on the more capable hands.” Curumo allowed himself a smug little smile, as the Herald muttered something about leaving them to prepare their defense and left, looking very pleased with himself.

“Calling that a hand is an euphemism. And as for capable...”

“Maybe he´s not... that bad now?” Melian whispered in her fellow prisoner´s ear. Ignorance was bliss, after all, and it had been an Age since she saw him last.

But Sauron shook his head gloomily.

“We´re doomed.”

“There you go again! Why do you always have to be so mean to me!” Curumo shouted, pointing an aggravated five inches long fingernail at his old classmate. “Know that your repeated shows of scorn and mockery for my abilities gave me a deep childhood trauma and a long list of life-lasting sequels, including an overwhelming need to prove myself!”

“I´m so sorry. What will you do for our... defense?”

Ignoring Sauron´s tone with a shaken huff, Curumo decided to unleash his enthusiasm upon the more harmless and motherly looking Melian.

“After years uncounted of painstaking rehearsal, I have finally perfected my ultimate weapon.” He made a proud flourish. “The Voice of Curumo!”

“The what?”

“Look into my eyes and listen to me.” he continued, ignoring Sauron´s tone again. Melian did as she was told, and Sauron finally followed her example while half mumbling something. “Listen to me... you are listening to me now... interested in what I have to say...”

Suddenly, Melian had a strange sensation. The voice seemed to have an... echo?

“You agree with me” he kept crooning. “You find that what I say is logical... wonderful... right... You are convinced. You are already convinced. You will do my bidding...”

“You are right.” Horrified, Melian turned towards Sauron. “We are doomed!”

“To be exact, and unless Mandos has managed to develop a sense of humour in the last thousand years, we´ll be thrown to the giant spiders.” he replied, then let go of his flippancy and shuddered. “And I have arachnophobia.”

Deeply offended, Curumo clasped the book he was carrying so strongly that he broke a fingernail, and theatrically threw it to the floor.

“After a whole Age, you´re still doing your best to smother the force of my genius! Do you know what? I care a damn about what happens to you!” Turning around with a swirl of robes, he got to the door and closed it behind him with a slam. “You will find that the friendship of Curumo is not lightly thrown aside!”

After he had left, and as if on common accord, Sauron and Melian opened their mouths to speak at the same time.

“What the hell does this...”

“Fuck the fair trial! I am leaving.”

“You are what?” Melian forgot what she was going to say, and gave her companion a wistful glance.

“What you have just heard. I´m not playing into their trap and I´m not falling into their clutches, and I´m certainly not providing them with free entertainment, and this is final!”

“But how? How can we escape the far-reaching arm of the Valar once we get to Valinor?”

“Well, I won´t go to Valinor. I will stay in Middle-Earth.”

The former Queen of Doriath stayed silent for a while, frozen at his words. Then, slowly, she nodded, amazed at how the idea hadn´t occurred to her before.


Sauron, however, did not volatilise in front of her eyes with a swishing noise yet. Instead of this he kept looking at her, thoughtfully.


“What are you going to do?”

Melian shrugged. She needed to think. There was a great realm of new possibilities stretching in front of her now.


Sauron crossed his arms over his chest, irritated.

“Are you stupid enough as to stay here?”

Hmh. Could he be... trying to tell her something?

“You... oh. You actually... want me to go with you.” she realised.

“I could do worse for company.” he conceded with a grimace. Melian assumed that she was supposed to feel flattered by this, and smiled encouragingly.

As things were, after all, it occurred to her that she probably needed him to get out of this. Once that they were both safe, there would be plenty of chances to dump him, run off with a handsome and not grumpy silver-haired Elf and create a new low-tax kingdom to attract the remaining Sindar and the Noldor who had stayed in Middle-Earth. And this time there wouldn´t be any Silmarils to ruin things.

That sounded like a plan.

“Let´s go, then.”

Minutes later, several sentries of the Host of the Valar stared in incredulity at a very large and dirty wolf who walked past them with studied naturality, a nightingale singing inconspicuously over his furry back.

(the end)



-In the Silm, it´s stated that Melian went back to Valinor. The source of this information, though, remains unsatisfactory. (Besides, come on... haven´t you ever wondered about the differences between Silm Galadriel and LoTR Galadriel? ducks)

-Curumo is Saruman. I was forced to use his Maiarin name because, unlike Sauron and Melian, he had not adopted a Middle-Earth identity yet. It means The Skilled (.. at doing his fingernails, of course.)

-On werewolves: This fic goes with the theory that Sauron was the werewolf who mauled Finrod and his companions in the dungeon. Yes, I am aware that Finrod killed the werewolf. But it´s not the first time that Sauron has been “killed” in the Tolkienverse, and that´s enough canon rationalisation for a parody, anyway.

-Iarwain is also known as Tom Bombadil in LoTR. No, it´s not said anywhere that he was a Maia. But in the Council of Elrond, he is mentioned as an extremely old creature, and with such a ridiculous appearance he can hardly be an Elf.


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