The armies of Ar-Pharazôn assembled outside the gates of Mordor in a sea of blue, gold and white, and Sauron knew fear. He reckons that if they went to war, it would drown his vast legions of Orcs with numbers to spare to take all the land he controlled in the far south and east too. So in the event strength would not avail, Sauron deems it wise to pursue alternative pathways.

When Sauron came forth to meet the King, it was not as a Dark Lord in dark armor and a menacing visage. Instead, he appears in the form of a Man, and he makes no offer of battle. The sole figure makes his way over to the King, in robes of white that fluttered around his form like a flag of surrender. He smoothes his tongue.

"In my folly, I thought I could claim the title 'King of Men'. But how can I, when there is one who clearly surpasses my might?" His tone is humble yet resigned, with a hint of admiration for his opponent mixed in. It's a tone that makes one think of wise kings, benevolent lords and just men. How can such a reasonable person be tied to evil?

Nearer, you could tell he is taller in stature than all the Men present. A simple golden ring sits innocuously on a finger. But now he lowers himself.

"Your Majesty," He drops to one knee to pay homage as if the King had been his monarch. Not too proud to beg for peace. Turning his head upward, he stares directly into the king's eyes. "My army is no match for the splendour of Númenor. A fight would be futile with only one sure outcome, not necessarily in my favour. Therefore, I acquiesce."