When Light Deceives: Sauron’s Gifts and the Friends Who Save Us From Ourselves

We fall for the gifts of Sauron-Annatar when we’re in the grip of an idol

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True friends care. They are life’s true gift. That’s why they love you so deeply it can feel frightening at times. Frodo said of Aragorn after their first meeting at the Prancing Pony:

“You have frightened me several times tonight, but never in the way that servants of the Enemy would, or so I imagine. I think one of his spies would — well, seem fairer and feel fouler, if you understand.”

A servant of the enemy would look fairer but feel fouler. How do we discern between friends and enemies? A friend never feels foul even when they look scary. A servant of the enemy feels foul even when they look fair.

“Satan himself masquerades as an angel of light.”

When Bilbo was about to claim the Ring for his own, Gandalf had to scare him a bit to bring him back to sanity,

“He took a step towards the hobbit, and he seemed to grow tall and menacing; his shadow filled the little room.”

Gandalf looked scary but didn’t feel foul. A servant of the enemy scares in a different way. Frodo sensed this when he first listened to Strider in the Prancing Pony. Somehow, he knew—deep in his spirit—that a true enemy would never reveal himself like that. The fear was different. It didn’t carry the foulness of malice.

When an enemy wants something from you, they try to look perfect and make big offers. They are soft, they smile, they speak velvety words, but behind it all, you feel “sharp claws.”

A servant of the Enemy looks like light but feels like darkness. Like Sauron in the Second Age of Arda—when he appeared as Annatar, the Lord of Gifts—he took on a fair form to deceive. He didn’t arrive with fire and shadow, but with beauty, wisdom, and generous offers.

He came to the Elves bearing gifts—many gifts. And Celebrimbor, though noble and skilled, didn’t see through the mask until it was too late. Galadriel saw right through it and wasn’t deceived. For her, Sauron felt too foul.

It was Galadriel who urged Celebrimbor to hide the Elven rings. She herself refused to use Nenya while Sauron still held the One. She understood something Celebrimbor did not— hat power offered by the Enemy always comes with a chain.

It’s hard to discern a friend from an enemy when we’re in the clutches of an idol. Celebrimbor longed for the power of the rings so deeply that Sauron’s gifts felt like a blessing. And Sauron knew that. He came bearing just the right gifts—the kind that speak to the hunger already alive in the heart.

It takes some degree of inner light to recognize the darkness in disguise. Galadriel, the Lady of Light, was not immune to temptation. But she carried enough light within her to feel the foulness beneath Sauron’s fair-seeming gifts.

We fall for the gifts of Sauron-Annatar when we’re in the grip of an idol—when we want something too much. And when desire blinds us, discernment fades. The gift feels right because the hunger is too loud.

But there’s always a friend who tries to call us back to the light. He may look stern, even frightening—but deep down, we know: he means well. He doesn’t feel foul. And that is the test. A servant of the enemy would never act this way.

All Sauron cares about is that we want something too much. That’s all it takes. When desire consumes us, we accept his gifts—and lose the greater gift: discernment.

Bilbo didn’t lose it—because of Gandalf.
Frodo didn’t lose it—because of Aragorn.

A true friend may look frightening for a moment, but only to wake us up. He helps us drop the Ring— so we can breathe freely and come up with a good ending for our book:

“And he lived happily ever after, even to the end of his days.”