Princess Bride Takes on Tolkien
A conversation between Manwë and Sauron
Manwë: Repent!
Sauron: You mean you wish to repent to me? Very well, I accept.
Manwë: For the deaths of thousands!
Sauron: Yes, I get it, the thousands you killed in Belariand, and the entire culture you destroyed in Númenor including innocent children? Yes, Yes. Go ahead and repent already. I told you I accept.
Manwë: No. You repent to me!
Sauron: Wait, weren't you the super power that came into a third-world nation, carpet bombed it, nuked it, left it a smoking radioactive ruins and then went home to your untouched paradise to give each other awards?
Manwë: Uh...
Sauron: I'm literally the only one who stayed behind to try to heal the land that I helped create. You all left. You abandoned Middle-earth. I stayed. And that's why I should repent?
Manwë: You want to be god-king!
Sauron: It's the land that I literally helped create. It belongs to me by right of invention and abandonment. All you did was break it twice and killed way more people than I ever could have done.
Manwë: Well....
Sauron: And you want me to repent? To you?
Manwë: Um.. Yeah?
Sauron: Are you daft?
Manwë: (sputtering) Daft? Daft? I am the Elder King, appointed by Ilúvatar himself! My authority is divine, and you— you’re just a rebellious Maia with a god complex!
Sauron: (leaning back, smirking) Oh, divine authority, is it? That’s rich. Tell me, Manwë, when was the last time Ilúvatar sent you a memo? Because from where I’m standing, you’re just a glorified bureaucrat who outsourced Middle-earth to a bunch of lazy Elves and bumbling Men, then wondered why it all went to Mordor in a handbasket.
Manwë: (indignant) I sent the Istari! Gandalf, Saruman, Radagast, the other two whose names I can't remember. They were meant to guide the Free Peoples!
Sauron: (laughs darkly) Oh, splendid job there. Saruman’s building his own orc army last I checked, and Gandalf’s off smoking pipe-weed with hobbits. Radagast is lost in the comings and goings of earthworms. The other two apparently fell asleep on the job. Real top-notch management, your airy highness. Meanwhile, I’m the one putting in the work. My forges running, infrastructure built, orcs employed. You know, actual governance?
Manwë: (pointing a trembling finger) Your “governance” is tyranny! You enslaved countless souls, forged that accursed Ring...
Sauron: (interrupting, holding up a hand) Oh, please. The Ring? A tool to bring order to chaos you left behind. You’d rather let Middle-earth fester in petty wars and Elvish nostalgia. And let’s not talk about enslavement. Remind me who sank Númenor under a tidal wave because they couldn’t handle a little human ambition? How many souls was that, Manwë? I’ll wait.
Manwë: (flushing) That was Ilúvatar’s will, not mine!
Sauron: (mocking) Oh, Ilúvatar’s will! Convenient, isn’t it? When I bend the rules, I’m a dark lord. When you drown an island, it’s “divine will.” Face it, Manwë, you’re just mad I’m better at playing god than you are.
Manwë: (desperate) You twisted Arda’s beauty! You corrupted the Music!
Sauron: (eyes glinting) Corrupted? No, no, I remixed it. Added a bit of dissonance, sure, but that’s what makes it interesting. You and your Valar choir just keep singing the same old tune, expecting applause while Middle-earth burns. At least I’m trying to make something new.
Manwë: (drawing himself up) Enough! You will kneel before the will of Ilúvatar, or—
Sauron: (cutting in, grinning) Or what? You’ll send another eagle to lecture me? Sorry, Manwë, but I’ve got a tower to run and a world to fix. Come back when you’ve got something better than sanctimonious hot air. (pauses, then stage-whispers) Inconceivable!
Manwë: The children should be free!
Sauron: Oh, yeah, that's right. Free to die by being crushed by mountains or tidal waves. You're a mass murderer, but I’m the bad guy because I'm a little OCD? Fuck all the way off.
Manwë: (stammering, wings twitching) Free to live! Free to choose their own path under Ilúvatar’s light! You— you chain them to your will, Sauron, with your rings and your lies!
Sauron: (rolling his eyes, adjusting a gauntlet) Oh, spare me the sermon, you feathered hypocrite. Free to live? Tell that to the kids of Númenor, crushed under your boss’s tsunami because they dared sail west. Or the Beleriand folks flattened by your War of Wrath. Real “freedom” there, mate. Meanwhile, I’m just asking for a little organization—call it tyranny if you want, but my orcs have dental, and my forges don’t sleep. What’s your excuse?
Manwë: (red-faced) The Valar acted to save Arda from your master’s corruption! Morgoth—
Sauron: (cutting in, voice dripping with sarcasm) Oh, Morgoth, Morgoth, Morgoth. Always blaming the intern for the boss’s mess, eh? Newsflash, Manwë: I didn’t sink continents or drown civilizations. That’s your crew’s body count. I’m just trying to tidy up the rubble you left behind. And you call me the bad guy for wanting a bit of order? Piss off with that noise.
Manwë: (desperate, voice rising) You twist everything! Your “order” is slavery, your “tidying” is tyranny! Ilúvatar will judge you!
Sauron: (leaning in, smirking) Judge me? Funny, I don’t see Ilúvatar here, just you flapping your wings and dodging accountability. If I’m so evil, why’s Middle-earth still a mess after you “saved” it? Face it, Manwë—you’re a glorified weatherman who botched the forecast. Go cry to Varda about it. I’ve got a kingdom to run.
Manwë: (spluttering) You… you insolent—
Sauron: (mock bowing) Inconceivable, I know. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some rings to polish. Run back to Taniquetil and leave the real work to me.
Stephen is the author of Transmigrant, an epic science fiction thriller, available on both Amazon and Audible. The first seven chapters are available on this website for free.
Stephen also writes short stories: science fiction, fantasy, historical fiction, and retold fairy tale with a twist, available for free HERE.
Good to see you back writing again.