A/N: Hello Friends! Silz is back with heraldofmanwe 's second story. Very important, this takes place AFTER Flight to the East, so there are a couple spoilers, but it's nothing I haven't hinted at already, for you lovely Fëanoriel Chronicles readers.

If you're new here, welcome! The previous short story by my brother was The Eagle and the Star, so check that wonderful tale out as well. Make sure you read that one first! As always, this IS taking place in the universe established by my OCs over in the main works.

Without further ado, the prologue

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

The Knight and the Huntress

by heraldofmanwe

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Prologue

The Triumvirate United

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

"Eglanor is who!?" shouted Aragorn.

"Sauron," replied Elerína calmly.

Aragorn shook his head. "That's impossible."

"It should be, yes," said Elerína. "But Melkor's power is slipping through the cracks as Arda as again reshaped..."

"This is our reckoning," interrupted Thorongil. "The separation of Aman from the rest of Arda was never meant to be - an act of cowardice, to avoid a war with Numenor..."

"The wisdom of the Valar is not ours to question," objected Elerína.

"Tell me I'm wrong," Thorongil hissed. He had told them himself - many times.

Elerína was silent, so her husband continued.

"Sauron will expect me - or someone like me - to be waiting for him. Someone to force him to face the Valar's judgement, or die here; again."

"That is why he made me swear to protect him," sighed Aragorn. He had been played the fool, though he had already suspected some foul game was afoot when he signed Eglanor's pardon.

"I do believe I promised him protection as long as I lived," continued the King. "I was ready to die to defeat Sauron before..."

"That won't be necessary," smiled Thorongil. "You can do little against our power."

"We're not going to kill him," interrupted Elerína.

Aragorn looked most perplexed.

"If Sauron wants a pardon ... we'll give him one," smiled Elerína.

"Is that wise?" asked Aragorn. Thorongil shook his head no.

"Morgoth has made a grave miscalculation," said she. "Sauron will not serve him again - not if given a viable alternative."

Aragorn disagreed. "Elerína, he is responsible for the deaths of millions; thousands of years of war, the great plagues..."

Thorongil put his hand on the King's shoulder and looked at him with the gaze of a defeated man. "She's made her decision, Aragorn."

The previous night the maiar had argued long and hard over the decision. Thorongil made it clear he felt Sauron needed to die; he even used his magic to show her many of Sauron's most heinous crimes in vivid detail - torture and murder of countless innocents. But she was certain that he would be a valuable asset, and that she could control him.

"We need him," Elerína declared. "We shall soon be outnumbered."

"With all due respect," began the King.

"My wife has made her decision," growled Thorongil. He could question her. Aragorn could not.

"The wisdom of the maiar is not to be questioned?" asked Aragorn mockingly.

"You can question it all you like, but it will do you no good," hissed Thorongil. He was in no mood for jest.

Unfortunately for Aragorn, the maiar were correct; without their aid he could do little to harm Sauron, so the King of Gondor and the North bit his tongue. Their presence was certainly better than the alternative - facing Sauron with only his own guard. Nevertheless he loosened Anduril in its sheath and asked Arwen to visit Ithilien for a few days.

On the same morning Anders and the Rangers were rescuing Mirunor from Cirith Ungol, Eldarion and the survivors of his expedition to Utumno arrived at the gates of Minas Tirith. They left their horses at the royal stables and walked quickly and quietly up to the Citadel. None of the Gondorians knew what Sauron or Thuringwethil were planning once they reached the throne room, but every sword had a hand upon the hilt, and all but the prince kept themselves far enough from the former Dark Lord that he couldn't attack them all at once.

Sauron stayed hardly a foot from Eldarion at every moment. He had no faith in Aragorn's promise of pardon and protection - 'the treacherous are ever distrustful' as Gandalf would say - but so long as he had the King's son within arms reach he knew he was untouchable. Thuringwethil stood beside Sauron, her black hood pulled low over her face under the midday sun.

When the company reached the doors to the palace they found only two guards of the Citadel in sight. They bowed to their crown-prince. "By order of the King, only you, Eglanor, and his companion may enter," they said. Edarion silenced the objections of his friends. It was not until they had walked blindly into the throne room that Sauron realized that the men of Gondor should have known nothing of his companion Thuringwethil. The guards closed the door behind them.

Eldarion led Sauron and the vampire past the statues of the kings of old. As they approached the throne he thought it oddly empty. It was silent as the halls of the dead and only Aragorn could be seen, sitting high upon his marble seat.

The King rose and stepped down to the floor. He beckoned his son to embrace him. "Welcome home Eldarion."

Sauron reached for the prince's shoulder. He found these proceedings incredibly suspicious and was not about to release his hostage.

"If you lay a finger on the boy you won't leave this room alive," proclaimed a woman's voice, fair and cultured yet cold and calculating. Sauron's hand recoiled at the sound of it. From behind the throne stepped Elerína with a circlet upon her brow - a single sky blue gem held fast to her forehead by intertwining threads of pale silver. The prince met her gaze but it taxed his spirit terribly to look directly into her eyes. After a moment he rubbed his eyes and looked down at her feet, forgetting his father's command.

Thuringwethil, mighty among the vampires, lasted hardly a second longer before she too had to look away. Sauron however was not so easily daunted. He stared her down, yet he obeyed her command - his mind was torn away from thoughts of the Prince.

"Go to your father, child," Elerína commanded. Eldarion gladly obeyed, and the King and Prince embraced after nearly a year apart. Aragorn took him by the arm and led him next to the throne as Elerína stepped up onto the dias and in front of the Throne of Gondor.

"Hello Sauron," she smiled, looking down at him. "It's been a long time."

"Indeed it has," replied the former Lord of the Rings. Both their voices seemed to echo and resonate in the marble covered room, and every word rang in Eldarions ears.

"I expected Manwë to send someone to find me," he continued, "but I was not expecting it to be you. I was expecting someone more like..."

"Me," growled Thorongil, stepping out from behind a pillar near to Thuringwethil. Aeglos glowed blue in his right hand and his sword shone red in his left. With a shriek from the vampire both she and Sauron retreated before him, both trying to hide behind the other. Thuringwethil was the faster of the two and cowered behind Sauron.

Sauron looked to Elerína, hoping she would restrain her husband's wrath. "Given my options, I'd much rather negotiate with you."

"Kneel!" she commanded. Sauron hesitated, but Thuringwethil fell immediately to her knees. She was not above begging for her life - ironic, given how many had fruitlessly begged her for mercy, only to be devoured. As Thorongil circled around them like a predator stalking his prey, Elerína repeated her command. Sauron slowly obeyed.

"You will release Aragorn from his promises of protection," began Elerína.

"Why don't you take a seat, Your Majesty," mocked Sauron, gesturing towards Aragorn's throne.

Elerína turned to Aragorn and his son. "Observe how already he tries to sow discord between us. He can't help himself..."

Sauron seethed at her arrogance. Aragorn recognized an opportunity to wound Sauron deeper than he likely ever could with his sword.

"Oh by all means, m'lady, sit," he said with a knowing glance at Sauron.

Elerína laughed. "Oh, does that sting, Sauron? How many years did you want this throne?"

"Then take it, and prove yourself a hypocrite," Sauron hissed.

"He offers it because he knows I would not keep it," sighed Elerína. "Now, release him from his oaths."

"Why would I ever do that?" laughed Sauron.

"As a show of good faith."

Sauron burst into raucous laughter. Then suddenly it stopped. "Wait, you're serious?"

Elerína stood as still as the statues of the kings of old, glaring at Sauron. For the first time since Eldarion had met 'Eglanor' he saw hint of indecision on the maia's face.

'What use would Aragorn be against Ilmarë and her attack dog of a husband?' he thought. The stakes had been raised. Aragorn was now immaterial - Ilmarë's protection could shield him from any of his former enemies, be they man, elf, or even the Valar themselves.

Sauron glanced at Aragorn and saw the hatred in his eyes. 'Perhaps this 'king' will object to Ilmarë's mercy,' he thought with a smile. 'How long, I wonder, will he pretend to rule his kingdom with a real Queen standing over his shoulder? And how many times will she allow a mortal to overrule her judgement before she realizes he is more trouble than he's worth.'

Sauron had not seen Ilmarë since the earliest days of the forming of the world, but he remembered her well. He respected her - as a rival, perhaps, but not like the elves and men of middle earth - she was like him: born to rule, and with the power to do it. There was no shame in kneeling to her; even if it meant also answering to her husband.

Eönwë he hated more. He had power too - perhaps more than anyone! And he was cunning. But he lacked ambition; Melkor had offered him dominion over all life in Middle Earth as commander of all his armies, and he turned it down. And for what? Ilmarë? With all Arda under the control of Melkor's armies Eönwë could have taken whatever he wished. He freely chose to live under the Valar's tyranny, and worse than that, helped damn the rest of the maiar to it as well. Even now 'The Predator' paced around him, wanting more than anything to cut his throat, but he was kept tightly on a leash.

Sauron was of course wrong on most counts: even with Eönwë the armies of Morgoth would have been hard pressed to conquer Arda, Ilmarë would never have surrendered, and Eönwë would likely have betrayed Morgoth without her prodding anyways. He could kill his enemies without a second thought, but he could not enslave the innocent - not even if he had believed Morgoth when he said it was in their best interest.

"Very well," sighed Sauron. "I release Aragorn from his promises to me."

Ilmarë nodded, but did not thank him. "What would you ask of me?"

Sauron, as you might expect, is the sort of person who can quickly convince themself that they deserve anything, so his list of demands came out awkwardly like a list of things he felt owed. "I want a full pardon - I died, after all, and under the laws of elves transgressions do not follow through the grave..."

Ilmarë rolled her eyes.

"Second, I expect your protection from all my enemies in Middle Earth, and I expect to be treated with the respect due my station..."

"That station being 'murderer, liar, and traitor?'" interrupted Eönwë. Ilmarë gestured for him to hold his peace, but she couldn't help but smile.

"Don't interrupt while the adults are talking," replied Sauron.

"I kept a list, you know - of everyone you killed," growled Eönwë.

Sauron started to turn around and rise to face him. "Really? Was it shorter or longer than yours?"

"Darling, please," said Ilmarë, who's soft voice instantly halted their bickering. "Now is not the time."

Eönwë nodded, and Sauron knelt back down - a bit quicker than he was comfortable with when he thought about it later.

"Is that all, Sauron?" she asked. Sauron nodded. It did not go unnoticed that Sauron had said nothing of Thuringwethil or her safety.

"Very well, Sauron," proclaimed Ilmarë. "I accept your terms. In exchange for your unwavering loyalty and service in the coming years, you will have my protection - and when we return to Valinor, your fate will be the same as ours."

Sauron felt a very strange emotion: gratitude. He would later wonder why; she had accepted his demands at the price of unwavering loyalty and service for an indeterminate amount of time.

"We could not ask for better help than yours, Sauron," she continued. "Now rise... we should speak more in private."

"At the first sign of betrayal, I'll kill you," warned Eönwë.

"I believe you," grinned Sauron.

'You'll try,' he thought.