"And you won't come after us, afterward."

"Well, depends on how you define 'come after you.' I certainly intend to keep trying to win this war. But, no, I won't stop you from taking the Silmaril wherever. It's utterly useless sitting on the crown."

"Not targeting us specifically, outside of direct battlefield participation."

"...All of the planet is a battlefield right now," she tells Luthien. "Two armies trying to beat each other up in a field is a very small part of war."

To Sauron: "How about this instead: if you kill, cripple, injure, psychologically torture, curse, or otherwise arrange to significantly or lastingly harm Luthien physically, emotionally, or spiritually, or cause any of those to happen directly or indirectly, I will feed you to Ungoliant, regardless of the outcomes of this negotiation."

"Duly noted!"

That works.

"Do we have a deal, then?" he asks. 

"I think we do."

She nods. "We do."

"Excellent."

"I won't interfere with this Quest, then."

Nod.

"We had best continue on, then."

She nods.

And: "Goodbye, Sauron."

"Until we meet again, old friend."

...She shouldn't be smiling at that. 

Eh, if this goes disastrously, she can always reset.

"Until then."

And -

Out, and onward north. 

Onward.

"That wasn't... as bad as it could have been."

"No, though giving him the rule of Angband might come back to bite us in the ass..."

Kiss.

"We'll deal with that if it does."

Kiss. "Together."

"Always."

North to Angband, then? 

All the way.

The plains south of Angband are nearly uninhabitable, waters choked with harsh ash, rain acidic, sunlight thin and rare, ground frozen even in the heat of summer. Game once roamed here, large animals feeding off woody shrubs, but now even lichens struggle to thrive. Food and drink often mean stealing from the orcish caravans and outposts - which at least are easier to hide from than Sauron.

Angband itself is massive, three unnaturally jagged peaks thrusting above the already sharp and high mountain range. The rock is black and bare with a dull sheen of iron, and the front gates are solid, dark metal.

There's other entrances though, not all of them so well guarded as the obvious one. Mygwainor leads them along narrow, precarious paths, to the hidden northern roads she'd used to render the elvish siege entirely a piece of theater. 

Things are riskier, here, but -

She can get them into a good position for Luthien to project song through the mountain, if that's still the plan. 

She hasn't had any better ones on the way here, and putting everyone in the mountain to sleep still seems like the best way of avoiding actual fighting.

Okay.

She's ready when Luthien is. (She starts humming the song that'll hide their location and project Luthien's voice.)

She begins singing, starting softly and gradually building.