What Happened to Sauron After the Ring Was Destroyed? LOTR Lore

In the aftermath of the War of the Ring,  with Sauron vanquished and his reign of terror shattered, a haunting  question lingers for many fans: What fate befell the Dark Lord's  spirit once the ring was destroyed? Sauron was no mere mortal; he  was a being of ancient lineage, blessed with an immortal spirit that  could never be fully extinguished. Yet, for all his might, Sauron was  not impervious to the ravages of war.

And in his hubris, in his insatiable thirst  for control, Sauron sealed his own fate. He poured much of his, his spirit into the  one ring, which would become his undoing. As the fires of Mount Doom consumed the Ring, so too did they consume the corporeal  form that housed Sauron's malice.

But, what became of the remainder of Sauron’s  spirit and his remaining power once the One Ring met its fiery demise? Could it be that  the spirit of Sauron endures, a spectre haunting the shadows, biding its time until  the evil things begin to stir once more? Join me, as we journey into the heart  of Middle-earth, where the echoes of Sauron's legacy still resonate, and the  whispers of his spirit linger on the wind.

In order to understand the  essence of Sauron's spirit, we must first return to the  luminous dawn of time itself. In the unfathomable expanse of the timeless  void, there dwelled Eru Ilúvatar, the One who is the essence of all things. From the boundless  brilliance of his mind, he wove the fabric of reality, a grand tapestry of existence, each  thread bearing the mark of his divine hand.

First, he created the Ainur, the Holy Ones,  spirits born of his thought and imbued with the power of song. The Ainur made the Great Music,  called the Ainulindalë. In this cosmic melody, the world was envisioned.

And among the Ainur existed  the spirit that would one day be known as Sauron. Some of the Ainur chose to descend into Arda in  order to shape the world. The mightiest of these Ainur, known as the Valar, were entrusted with  the stewardship of the world, and the Maiar, their lesser kin, served the Valar and embodied  aspects of their masters' power and wisdom.

Sauron was one of these Maiar, a servant  and student of the Vala Aule the Smith. Though he would betray his master, joining  forces with Melkor, the original Dark Lord. Due to these beginnings, Sauron's  undying spirit is forever bound to Arda, a malevolent flame of malice, flickering  endlessly, never to truly be extinguished.

Due to Sauron’s origins as an immortal Ainur,  the destruction of his physical form would not mean that he ceased to exist. Indeed, his body  was destroyed no less than three times in total. According to Tolkien’s mythology, every sentient  being possesses an immortal soul.

Therefore, when they are 'killed,' it is not a true  end, but rather the release of the soul from its mortal vessel, liberating it  to transcend beyond the physical realm. When men die, their spirit passes  beyond the Circles of the World into the unknown. Not even the Valar possess the  knowledge of what lies beyond.

For mortals, the end is resolute and inescapable. When an elf meets their end, their  spirit journeys to the Halls of Mandos, where it finds respite and reflection.  After a time of quiet renewal, they are bestowed with a new body, which is  physically identical to their previous form.

The sting of death is still sharp for the Elves.  It is shocking, unpleasant and it brings about a prolonged parting from those they hold dear,  making it something that they still seek to evade. Spiritual beings such as Sauron however,  are naturally formless spirits.

When they wish to take physical form, in order  to interact with the physical world, they are able to take on a body by  choice. This form is known as a Fana. Now the Valar took to themselves shape  and hue; and because they were drawn into the World by love of the Children  of Ilúvatar, for whom they hoped, they took shape after that manner which  they had beheld in the Vision of Ilúvatar, save only in majesty and splendour.

and they  need it not, save only as we use raiment, and yet we may be naked and suffer no loss  of our being. Therefore the Valar may walk, if they will, unclad, and then even the Eldar  cannot clearly perceive them, though they be present. But when they desire to clothe themselves  the Valar take upon them forms some as of male and some as of female.

But the shapes wherein  the Great Ones array themselves are not at all times like to the shapes of the kings and queens  of the Children of Ilúvatar; for at times they may clothe themselves in their own thought,  made visible in forms of majesty and dread. To the Ainur, physical forms are akin to  garments, donned to traverse the world and engage with its inhabitants. These bodies are but  vessels and are not entwined with their essence.

However, it is essential to recognize  that their forms are real and tangible, and prolonged use can lead them to be cherished  deeply by the spirit that dwells within them. The fanar of the Valar were not  “phantoms”, but “physical”: that is, they were not “visions” arising to the mind,  or implanted there by the will of a superior mind or spirit, and then projected,  but received through the bodily eyes. When an Ainu inhabits one of these  physical vessels for an extended time, their soul begins to weave itself  into the essence of the form, creating a profound emotional bond that  deepens into a psychological dependency.

The longer they remain intertwined with the  vessel, the more their spirit and flesh merge, pulling the Ainu deeper into the  embrace of the material world. This connection intensifies as they  indulge in earthly pleasures. The delights of the flesh,  the warmth of a hearty meal, the cool refreshment of a drink, all  become more than mere sustenance.

They become a symphony of sensations that  bind the Ainu ever closer to their Fana. …though in origin a ‘self-arraying’ [form], it  may tend to approach the state of ‘incarnation’, especially with the lesser members of  that order (the Maiar). ‘It is said that the longer and the more the same hröa  is used, the greater is the bond of habit, and the less do the ‘self-arrayed’ desire to  leave it.

As raiment may soon cease to be an adornment, and becomes (as is said in the  tongues of both Elves and Men) a “habit”, a customary garb. Or if among Elves and Men  it be worn to mitigate hot or cold, it soon makes the clad body less able to endure these  things when naked’. [If] the ‘spirit’ (that is, one of those not embodied by creation) uses a  hröa for the furtherance of its personal purposes, or (still more) for the enjoyment of bodily  faculties, it finds it increasingly difficult to operate without the hröa.

The things that are most  binding are those that in the Incarnate have to do with the life of the hröa itself, its substance  and its propagation. Thus eating and drinking are binding, but not the delight in beauty in sound  or form. Most binding is begetting or conceiving.

The Valar, in their celestial grace, are known  to indulge in feasts and libations on occasion, relishing these joys in moderation without  becoming bound to their earthly vessels. It is when the Fana is wielded too  frequently or with too much fervour, that the bond appears to deepen and  intensify at an accelerated pace. As the previous quote conveys, the act of  procreation profoundly anchors a spirit to its Fana.

This truth shines  brightly in the tale of Melian, a Maia whose heart was captivated by the Elven  King, Elu Thingol. Through their love and the birth of their daughter, Melian became  inexorably tethered to her earthly form. And there may be other, more sinister  ways in which an Ainu may become bound to their Fana.

Although it is not  explicitly stated, there are tales that hint at the profound tethering that  transpires when dark deeds stain the soul. Melkor had turned back, and in secrecy  passed away far to the south. For he was yet as one of the Valar, and could change his  form, or walk unclad, as could his brethren; though that power he was soon to lose for ever.

Thus unseen he came at last to the dark region of Avathar. There, beneath the sheer walls  of the mountains and the cold dark sea, the shadows were deepest and thickest  in the world; and there in Avathar, secret and unknown, Ungoliant had made her abode. In a ravine she lived, and took shape as a spider of monstrous form, weaving her black  webs in a cleft of the mountains.

There she sucked up all light that she could find, and spun  it forth again in dark nets of strangling gloom, until no light more could come to  her abode; and she was famished. Now Melkor came to Avathar and sought her out;  and he put on again the form that he had worn as the tyrant of Utumno: a dark Lord, tall and  terrible. In that form he remained ever after.

Melkor recruited Ungoliant, seeking to drain  the radiant essence of the Two Trees of Valinor. Through this menacing alliance, he sought to  quench the very light that bathed and enriched the surrounding lands and peoples. Yet, in  the aftermath of this heinous deed, Melkor found himself ensnared, forever bound in his  mortal guise, a prisoner of his own malevolence.

He could no longer mend the many scars he  bore: the flesh of his hand remained seared from grasping the Silmarils, his foot  remained crippled by Fingolfin's strike, and the scar etched across his face  by Thorondor's talon would endure. It was then made plain (though it must have been  understood beforehand by Manwe and Namo) that, though [Melkor] had 'disseminated' his power  (his evil and possessive and rebellious will) far and wide into the matter of  Arda, he had lost direct control of this, and all that 'he', as a surviving remnant  of integral being, retained as 'himself' and under control was the terribly shrunken and  reduced spirit that inhabited his self-imposed (but now beloved) body. When that body was  destroyed he was weak and utterly 'houseless', and for that time at a loss  and 'unanchored' as it were.

For an incarnate Ainur, the loss of their  physical form through ‘death’ can be a harrowing ordeal. The jarring absence of what  once defined their very essence leaves them adrift in a sea of confusion, detached  from the world for an agonising span. When Sauron met his demise in the  cataclysm of Númenor's downfall, it took a decade for him to rebuild his form. 

And following his second defeat at the hands of the Last Alliance of Men and Elves, it took  over a thousand years for him to rise once more. In an echo of Melkor's plight, Sauron too would  find himself ensnared within the confines of mortal flesh. Just as Melkor's essence was  shackled after marring Valinor's brilliance, so too did Sauron's spirit become incarnate  in the wake of Numenor's downfall.

…there came a mighty wind and a tumult of the  earth, and the sky reeled, and the hills slid, and Númenor went down into the sea, with all  its children and its wives and its maidens and its ladies proud; and all its gardens and its  halls and its towers, its tombs and its riches, and its jewels and its webs and its things painted  and carven, and its laughter and its mirth and its music, its wisdom and its lore: they vanished  for ever. Sauron himself was filled with great fear at the wrath of the Valar, and the doom that  Eru laid upon sea and land. It was greater far than aught he had looked for, hoping only for the  death of the Númenóreans and the defeat of their proud king.

But Sauron was not of mortal flesh,  and though he was robbed now of that shape in which he had wrought so great an evil, so that he  could never again appear fair to the eyes of Men… In the dawn of his self-resurrection, Sauron  emerged with flesh anew. Thus exposed, he became susceptible to the weapons of mortals. But before these events would unfold, and while  he still possessed the ability to change his form, he would wield his abilities as a  shape shifter to terrible effect.

Throughout the first and second ages, he  wove his schemes with deft mastery. For the craft of shifting guise and donning fair  semblance, would allow him to ensnare the Children of Ilúvatar, and trick the elves  into the crafting of the Rings of Power. In the year 1200, Sauron, cloaked in  fair form and naming himself Annatar, came to the elves of Eregion.

With his veiled identity, he weaved  his way into the hearts of the Elves, convincing them to craft the rings  of power with their own hands. Around 400 years later, in Mordor, within the  blazing crucible known as the Cracks of Doom, Sauron wrought his Master Ring,  an act that sealed his destiny and bestowed upon him the enduring  title of "The Lord of the Rings. " The idea of pouring spiritual power  into physical matter is not a new one.

In the pages of Morgoth's Ring, we  are told of the marring of Arda, as it was tainted by the malevolent  touch of Melkor. His aim was to weave his spirit into the very  matter of which Arda was formed. He had to sacrifice much of his power  in order to achieve this dread fusion, in return, he left an indelible  stain on the material realm, casting a shadow that gripped  the world in an unyielding hold.

But in this way Morgoth lost (or exchanged, or  transmuted) the greater part of his original 'angelic' powers, of mind and spirit, while  gaining a terrible grip upon the physical world. For this reason he had to be fought, mainly by  physical force, and enormous material ruin was a probable consequence of any direct combat with  him, victorious or otherwise. This is the chief explanation of the constant reluctance of the  Valar to come into open battle against Morgoth.

This process would have been similar for Sauron, a large portion of his power and  spirit were transmuted into the ring. This power exchange was required in order to exert  his dominion over all of the other rings. Yet, the act of binding such immense power  within the ring created the vulnerability, the fatal flaw in his armour which  would lead to his destruction.

But it also meant that, as  long as the ring existed, Sauron's spirit would endure. The ring's  very existence, although Sauron didn’t physically possess the ring, meant that his  spirit and his magic was alive and well. Sauron would, before long, invoke yet another  guise, naming himself Zigûr the Great.

Empowered by his freshly forged ring, he swiftly rose  to become a formidable king in Middle-earth. Men rallied to his side, fought under his  banner, and pledged their service to him. In his brazen vanity, Sauron adorned  himself with a cascade of grandiose titles, each more glorifying than the last: the King of  Men, the Lord of the Earth, the Lord of the World, and, most audaciously, the King of Kings. 

This final, most vainglorious claim enraged Ar-Pharazôn, the mighty ruler of Númenor,  provoking him to wage war against Sauron. The might of Númenor proved too great for  Sauron’s forces. Sauron was captured and delivered to the shores of Númenor.

Here,  with cunning words and dark persuasion, Sauron deceived Ar-Pharazôn and the men  of Númenor, leading them down the shadowed path of Melkor worship. Then, with whispered  promises of eternal life, he guided the monarch into rebellion against the divine order, urging  an assault upon the sacred shores of Valinor. It was at this time, as the ships  of the Numenorean fleet arrived upon the shores of Aman, that Eru Ilúvatar intervened.

Then Manwë upon the Mountain called upon  Ilúvatar, and for that time the Valar laid down their government of Arda. But Ilúvatar showed  forth his power, and he changed the fashion of the world; and a great chasm opened in the  sea between Númenor and the Deathless Lands, and the waters flowed down into it, and the noise  and smoke of the cataracts went up to heaven, and the world was shaken. And all the fleets of  the Númenóreans were drawn down into the abyss, and they were drowned and swallowed up for ever. 

But Ar-Pharazôn the King and the mortal warriors that had set foot upon the land of Aman were  buried under falling hills: there it is said that they lie imprisoned in the Caves of the Forgotten,  until the Last Battle and the Day of Doom. As Númenor descended into the abyss, Sauron’s  bodily form perished. Yet, his spirit, undeterred, fled back to Middle-earth, seeking refuge  in the ominous fortress of Barad-dûr.

Here, he would find that he could no longer  alter his form; he was now imprisoned in the grim visage that he had crafted for  himself, forever bound as the dark lord. …yet his spirit arose out of the deep and passed  as a shadow and a black wind over the sea, and came back to Middle-earth and to Mordor that  was his home. There he took up again his great Ring in Barad-dûr, and dwelt there, dark and  silent, until he wrought himself a new guise, an image of malice and hatred made visible; and  the Eye of Sauron the Terrible few could endure.

There lies a belief within the fan  community that this loss of shape shifting ability is due to a simple loss of power. The concept that Sauron grew weaker with each  defeat, emerging diminished after every fall, echoes widely through the lore community. Yet,  Gandalf reveals that, if Sauron had reclaimed the ring in the Third Age, his strength would have  surged, making him mightier than ever before.

He only needs the One; for he made that Ring  himself, it is his, and he let a great part of his own former power pass into it, so that he could  rule all the others. If he recovers it, then he will command them all again,  wherever they be, even the Three, and all that has been wrought with them will be  laid bare, and he will be stronger than ever. Yet, in a profound shift, his essence  intertwined with the mortal coil, rendering him vulnerable, though  perhaps no less dangerous.

In the embrace of corporeal form, Sauron would  have been forced to surrender to many of the constraints of mortality. No longer could his  spirit soar through the realms with effortless fluidity, nor deceive those who he wished  to corrupt with the veil of his fair form. In this way he was certainly  weakened and he would now fear the destruction of his body  more keenly than ever before.

Thus, he sought refuge within the vast fortress  of Barad-dûr, while the Last Alliance entered into Mordor and there laid siege to the dark tower. For  seven long years, he lingered within its depths, ensconced in the grip of fear, as the  Last Alliance lingered in his dark domain. Then Gil-galad and Elendil passed into Mordor and  encompassed the stronghold of Sauron; and they laid siege to it for seven years, and suffered  grievous loss by fire and by the darts and bolts of the Enemy, and Sauron sent many sorties against  them.

There in the valley of Gorgoroth Anárion son of Elendil was slain, and many others.  But at the last the siege was so strait that Sauron himself came forth; and he wrestled with  Gilgalad and Elendil, and they both were slain, and the sword of Elendil broke under him as he  fell. But Sauron also was thrown down, and with the hiltshard of Narsil Isildur cut the Ruling  Ring from the hand of Sauron and took it for his own.

Then Sauron was for that time vanquished,  and he forsook his body, and his spirit fled far away and hid in waste places; and he took  no visible shape again for many long years. By mortally wounding Sauron, they  rent his spirit from its vessel, a grievous blow that surely exacted a heavy toll  upon the Dark Lord, leaving him deeply wounded. However, he wasn't merely separated from his body;  he was torn from something even more precious, as Isildur took up his father's broken sword  and cut the ring from Sauron's black hand.

The absence of the ring would strip Sauron of  his ability to amplify his dark powers, leaving him profoundly diminished and inflicting upon  him a wound that would fester, and never heal. But to achieve this he had been obliged to let a  great part of his own inherent power (a frequent and very significant motive  in myth and fairy-story) pass into the One Ring. While he wore it, his power on earth was actually enhanced.

But even if he did not wear it, that power existed and was in  'rapport' with himself: he was not 'diminished'. Unless some other seized it and became possessed  of it. If that happened, the new possessor could (if sufficiently strong and heroic by nature)  challenge Sauron, become master of all that he had learned or done since the making of the One  Ring, and so overthrow him and usurp his place.

Sauron was weakened in the sense that his  power was no longer magnified by the ring, and he greatly feared another who  could challenge him, such as Aragon, laying claim to the ring and using it against him. But Isildur would soon die and the ring would lay  hidden in the waters of Anduin for 2461 years. Therefore, with the ring still in existence,  hidden and unclaimed, Sauron was able rebuild his strength and the world would feel the  chill of his menacing shadow once more.

Despite the ring's absence, Sauron remained  a formidable force. Though his defeats had slowed his return, the year 1050 of the Third  Age marked the resurgence of his dark presence. It seemed that the evil power in Mirkwood had been  driven out by the White Council only to reappear in greater strength in the old strongholds  of Mordor.

The Dark Tower had been rebuilt, it was said. From there the power was spreading  far and wide, and away far east and south there were wars and growing fear. Orcs were multiplying  again in the mountains.

Trolls were abroad, no longer dull-witted, but cunning  and armed with dreadful weapons. And there were murmured hints of creatures more  terrible than all these, but they had no name. He materialised once more, crafting  his body anew, and it became evident that Sauron now bore the scars of his  ordeals.

For, after reconstructing his body, he would discover that he could not restore  the finger that Isildur took from him. Despite bearing the evidence of this  ancient wound, if he was simply able to recover his lost ring. He would have been  such a force in the world that none among the free peoples of Middle-earth would have  had the strength to now stand against him.

‘Concerning this thing, my lords, you now all  know enough for the understanding of our plight, and of Sauron’s. If he regains it, your valour is  vain, and his victory will be swift and complete: so complete that none can foresee  the end of it while this world lasts. Upon reclaiming the ring, Sauron would rise  to unparalleled might in Middle-earth, where his reign would be absolute and all would bend  to his will under the weight of their despair.

Of course, Sauron would forever be  severed from that part of himself which he poured into his ring, doomed  instead to watch on as the ring fell into the fires of Mount Doom. And, in  the vivid recounting of Sauron's demise, Tolkien gifts us with tantalising hints  about the dark lord's ultimate fate. ‘Stand, Men of the West!

Stand and wait! This is  the hour of doom. ’ And even as he spoke the earth rocked beneath their feet.

Then rising swiftly up,  far above the Towers of the Black Gate, high above the mountains, a vast soaring darkness sprang into  the sky, flickering with fire. The earth groaned and quaked. The Towers of the Teeth swayed,  tottered, and fell down; the mighty rampart crumbled; the Black Gate was hurled in ruin; and  from far away, now dim, now growing, now mounting to the clouds, there came a drumming rumble,  a roar, a long echoing roll of ruinous noise.

‘The realm of Sauron is ended! ’ said Gandalf.  ‘The Ring-bearer has fulfilled his Quest.

’ And as the Captains gazed south to the  Land of Mordor, it seemed to them that, black against the pall of cloud, there rose a huge  shape of shadow, impenetrable, lightning-crowned, filling all the sky. Enormous it reared above  the world, and stretched out towards them a vast threatening hand, terrible but impotent:  for even as it leaned over them, a great wind took it, and it was all blown  away, and passed; and then a hush fell. This passage reveals that, with  the destruction of the ring, all things that had been bound together by  the will of Sauron collapsed in a cataclysm of chaos and disarray.

The forces he commanded  and the very lands he controlled, disintegrated, releasing a torrent of upheaval  that marked the end of his reign. Sauron then transformed into a colossal shadow, vast and consuming, stretching across  the sky. His presence was like a storm, dark and terrible, enveloping the sky with  an oppressive gloom.

He extended his grasp towards the ranks of men assembled before  the black gate in a final act of malice. In this dramatic scene, we are  learning the endurance of his spirit, lingering like a wraith,  beyond the ring's destruction. We are then told that his shadowy form was lost  to a great wind.

It seems as though he had become so diminished that the only form that he could  now muster was so weak that it was blown away by the wind, a wind that was perhaps sent  forth by Manwë, but a wind none the less. This haunting vestige of Sauron's essence, stood as the final embodiment of his  spirit that mortal eyes would ever witness. Sauron's spirit, now bereft of shape, drifted as a spectral echo unable  to wield influence upon the world.

In the pages of "The Return of the King,"  Gandalf's prophetic words paint a vivid picture of the destiny that would await  Sauron should the ring meet its fiery end: If it is destroyed, then he will fall; and his  fall will be so low that none can foresee his arising ever again. For he will lose the  best part of the strength that was native to him in his beginning, and all that was  made or begun with that power will crumble, and he will be maimed for ever, becoming a mere  spirit of malice that gnaws itself in the shadows, but cannot again grow or take shape. And so  a great evil of this world will be removed.

This passage reveals two profound truths  about the destiny of Sauron. Firstly, it speaks of a fate where his tortured  spirit would gnaw itself in the shadows. Sauron, in his relentless pursuit of dominion  and command, yearned to impose strict order upon all realms and peoples.

Yet, fate decreed a cruel  twist: he must bear witness as the peoples of the world revel in unfettered freedom. They dance and  dream beyond the constraints he sought to impose, liberated from the rigid structures and chains  of command he sought to enforce upon them. For a being such as Sauron, who thrived on  the control and subjugation of the Children of Iluvatar, this existence of anarchic  liberty is as an exquisite torment.

To gaze upon what he perceives as chaos,  where every soul roams free and unbounded, is a relentless agony that chafes against his  very being. In the shadows, his spirit writhes, unable to enact his will upon the world he  once sought to mould into perfect order. Secondly, the quote also tells us that  Sauron is no longer able to manifest in tangible form and exert his will  upon the physical realm in any way.

Tolkien confirms this profound fate in letter 131: There was another weakness: if the One  Ring was actually unmade, annihilated, then its power would be dissolved, Sauron's own  being would be diminished to vanishing point, and he would be reduced to a shadow,  a mere memory of malicious will. However, there is one last quote that I  wish to share with you which may provide us with an alternate answer as to the  final resting place of Sauron’s spirit. Among those of his servants that have names  the greatest was that spirit whom the Eldar called Sauron, or Gorthaur the Cruel.

In  his beginning he was of the Maiar of Aulë, and he remained mighty in the lore of that people.  In all the deeds of Melkor the Morgoth upon Arda, in his vast works and in the deceits  of his cunning, Sauron had a part, and was only less evil than his master in that  for long he served another and not himself. But in after years he rose like a shadow of  Morgoth and a ghost of his malice, and walked behind him on the same  ruinous path down into the Void.

This is the Account of the Valar and  Maiar according to the lore of the Eldar, and is contained within the Silmarillion. Here, it  is told that Sauron, stripped of his former power, would be cast into the timeless  void, an infinite chasm of darkness, where he would once more join Melkor. In this  boundless realm of night, the two dark lords together would linger, biding their time in the  vast emptiness, awaiting the ending of the world.

However, when considering this possibility, we must remember that the Silmarillion was  not published during Tolkien’s lifetime. So, although it contains much of his vision,  it never recieved his ultimate blessing. We must also consider that the  phrase "path down into the Void" could be simply a dramatic way of saying  that Sauron followed in the footsteps of Melkor.

Similar to saying that Sauron  followed Melkors decent into darkness. Moreover, since this is the lore springs from the  Eldar, we must acknowledge the possibility that the Eldar, with their own biases and perspectives,  may not be entirely trustworthy narrators. So relying upon the works that were  published during Tolkien’s lifetime.

It becomes clear that Sauron's disembodied  essence is condemned to drift aimlessly, lost and yearning, ever waiting  for the twilight of all things. In Morgoth's Ring we are told that  Tolkien speculated as to whether a Maia who has been reduced to impotence  may find a new existence as one of the occult beings that strike fear  into many hearts to this day. Melkor had corrupted many spirits -  some great, as Sauron, or less so, as Balrogs.

The least could have been primitive  (and much more powerful and perilous) Orcs; but by practising when embodied procreation  they would [become] more and more earthbound, unable to return to spirit-state (even  demon-form), until released by death (killing), and they would dwindle in force. When released  they would, of course, like Sauron, be 'damned': i. e.

reduced to impotence, infinitely recessive:  still hating but unable more and more to make it effective physically (or would not a very  dwindled dead Orc-state be a poltergeist? ). Seeing as our world is the same world that  was once Middle-earth, it would follow that Sauron's spirit lingers with us to this very  day.

Does he still have enough power left in him to affect the physical world in some way?  Could he perhaps act as a poltergeist? Moving objects and making small noises in order to  make his presence felt at the opportune moment?

He could be watching any one of us right  now; an essence of pure malice and hatred, observing and cursing our freedom as  we revel in the story of his demise. Thank you very much for  tuning into Realms Unravelled. Before I bid you a fond farewell, we would like to take this opportunity  to light the beacons and call for aid.

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Thanks again for watching, and until next time. . . 

Farewell fellow explorers of Middle-earth.