Sauron returned home after the third age. It had been a long time since he had been home. Thinking, he realized that it must have taken longer than he thought it would to recover his wedding ring, then Baggins had to go and throw it into Mount Doom. It would had been simpler if he had just turned the rings over whend asked. And now, he was returning home ringless—Aria would be pissed.
After crossing the threwshold of his modest home, Sauron removed his armor and placed it on the stand. Feeling a bit more relazed, but still tentative, he called out, “Honey, I’m home.”
From the kitchen, he heard his wife reply, “Good for nothin’ oaf. ‘Bout time you got back.”
“Yes dear. It took longer than I expected, but…” His your wife appeared in the door to the kitchen and the words fell from his mind.
“You still don’t have your ring.” Her voice was flat and cold. A chill ran up Sauron’s spine.
“Honey…”
“Don’t honey me! You are gone all this time and you didn’t bring your ring back? Or even try to replace it?!?”
Sauron then attempted something he had only done three times in his life—close his eyes and think ahppy thoughts. The first time came when he heard about peter pan, the second when some bullies were beating him up and the third when he had to live up to his word that he would do anything for a job. The first happy thought was of a puppy he had gotten when he was four—it was interrupted by something hard hitting his face.
His cheek stung. His beloved Aria had slapped him! Aria had slapped the black—he wished people would stop calling him black…he was just a white guy who preferred to wear all black—she slapped the black lord! Before Sauron could even begin to think of a reply, her backhand sent him sprawling. When he opened his eyes, she had gone from sight, but he heard pans flying about in the kitchen.
Moments later, Aria reappeared, brandishing the largest skillet she owned in two hands before her. He momentarily considered making a dive for his armor, but was once again interrupted mid-thought.
“Couch. Now.”
Obediently, Sauron took a deep breath and walked to the couch. Cautiously, Sauron lowered himself to the cushion, idly scratching Fluffy, his kitten behind the ears. Aria followed suit, still clutching the skillet, albeit less fervently so. He noticed by the firelight that tears were welling in her big brown eyes.
“That ring meant everything to me. Why couldn’t you get it back?”
“Baggins was pretty intent on destroying it. I think he might have been jealous. That boy needs to get laid. The jealousy wore on him so much, he started to resent the Gamgee fellow too.”
“You couldn’t have just asked him for it?” The first tear and the skillet fell simultaneously, “Why do you always use a hammer when words work?”
“Well…” Sauron thought about it, “I am working on it.” Aria pressed herself closer to Sauron, her head lowering onto his chest. “You know, Mithrandir was there.”
“Mithrandir? You mean that sort of sweet, but really creepy old guy who lives at the end of the street?”
“Yeah.” Sauron kissed the top of her head and Aria smiled through her tears. “I think he is trying to break us up.”
“Why?”
"I dont know. Hush now, everything will be ok.”
With those words, the room was silent other than the crackle of the flame. Aria’s eyes slowly closed and her breatheing steadied against Sauron’s chest. He smiled, pleased and allowed sleep to take him. The only thing that mattered was Aria and that he was at peace.
