Chapter 1: Prologue
Chapter Text
PROLOGUE
The leather bundle had weighed him down from his first memory of this place. It had been a bitter secret of his past and present, and was perhaps to remain so for as long as he walked this earth... Unless he could find the strength to get rid of the pouch or find the courage to face those whom the Dark Lord feared.
That would likely mean his death, which he didn't mind if his people were safe. But he doubted that would be the case once the Valar learned the truth.
No. The Southlands had suffered enough from the Elvish occupation already! They all were already paying dearly for the sins of their ancestors. So he bore the burden in silence, hating it as he knew only the sigil on the pouch was keeping the darkness from spilling out into the world.
Until the day something happened. Something that turned the sigil red hot and filled his heart with dread. Something that made him break the blood-oath given by the last King of Southlands.
Halbrand of Hordern ran to the sea.
Chapter Text
"Halbrand!" a muffled voice reached through the fog surrounding his mind.
The voice filled him with a mixture of calmness and anxiety. It was like a siren's call or a promise of fresh water for a sailor stranded in the sea, and yet it set off alarm bells in his head.
He knew he should answer the call, but the intense ringing in his ears and the suffocating stench of sulfur had made him unable to focus and utter a single word.
Halbrand desperately wanted to move, to let the voice know he was alive and oh-so-close. He attempted to lift himself on his elbows, but a sharp pain shot through his body, making him fall back onto the bed of hot ashes that flurried up in the air.
The man stared at what used to be a cloudless sky above Tirharad but was now a furnace of ashes and embers floating around like hellish snow.
A vague feeling of urgency struck him, but he was so tired and weak, his mind was drifting away, and his eyes slowly closed, eyelids protecting him from the surrounding inferno.
"Galadriel…" he managed to whisper before his mind got enveloped in blissful darkness.
Quiet murmuring roused Halbrand. He didn't move nor let anyone know he was awake, trying to assess whether he was dealing with a friend or foe. Dull pain in his side, the feeling he was about to throw up, and the severe shaking of what he figured was a horse cart made him feel like a rag doll being thrown from side to side.
He was cold and couldn't smell sulfur anymore, meaning he must've been away from the village of Tirharad, high enough in the mountains to avoid the deadly ash and lava.
The murmuring suddenly stopped and he heard, "I know you're conscious, boy. Fear not, I'm here to help." A blurry face appeared above him.
"Now, rest!" the deep voice said with urgency and Halbrand's awareness was snatched away again.
"Hold up, Galadriel!" she heard for the tenth time in the past day. She was getting sick of Elrond's constant snooping around the subjects she wasn't ready to explore, and so she was marching as fast as she could, leaving him to trail behind her.
What Galadriel had wanted to keep a secret had been hindered by her friend storming into her chambers, waving the scroll she had left forgotten in the river. He’d wanted to know what it all meant and why she’d been so anxious for days after Halbrand had disappeared.
So she’d told him half-truth – not quite lies, but some facts had been omitted… like the true identity of Sauron.
She trusted Elrond with everything she had, but she was too ashamed to admit that she had allowed herself to be deceived.
No. That wasn't the reason why she felt ashamed.
She couldn't look at her reflection anymore because she let Halbrand – or rather, Sauron make her feel something she'd never felt before.
What she had felt was dark, powerful, and carnal. It stripped away her Elvish dignity. It was too base, too human.
She still detested herself for her weakness, even though she knew it had been due to the Dark Lord's trickery. Part of her desperately wanted to believe that the warmth and humour twinkling in Halbrand's eyes had been sincere and that he'd genuinely meant what he'd said in the forest after the battle against Adar's orcs.
Galadriel shook her head, trying to stop daydreaming about the man who stalked her thoughts and dreams even now, almost a week after he'd shown his true colours and disappeared from Eregion. He’d left her torn between needing to come clean to Elrond and keeping it all hidden away in the darkest corner of her mind, even from herself.
"Galadriel!" Elrond called impatiently, "Galadriel, wait!" she felt his hand on her sleeve.
"What!?" she barked out, heaving from her rapid climb up the mountain's steep and rocky incline. She turned toward the other elf, "You promised to trust me, Elrond. Then trust me!"
His face softened when he said calmly," I do, my friend… well, at least I'm doing my best."
He sighed, then nodded towards a rocky plateau in the opposite direction Galadriel was heading,
"The gates of Khazad-dûm are over there," he said as he gave her a tired look, then moved towards the unassuming entrance, hidden in a rocky outcropping of the Misty Mountains.
"My father won't see you!" The dwarf prince alternated between flailing his arms and pulling at his long red beard, circling a giant fire pit. "And I'm pretty sure his guards are on the way here. I'm just not sure whether you'll be allowed to leave in one piece or if you'll get fed to the balrog!"
"Balrog?" Galadriel didn’t expect those demonic spirits to be mentioned so casually by the dwarf.
"What do you mean by being fed to the balrog?" Elrond's confusion was so comical that she forgot for a moment why they'd come to the dwarven kingdom of Khazad-dûm.
"Do you think I have no dark secrets left, my friend?" Durin wiggled his eyebrows and smirked.
"Durin! It’s not a subject to be made fun of!" Elrond suddenly rose from the stone bench he was sitting on.
"Fine. I'm sorry. I am." the dwarf’s voice was gentle now. He must've seen the pain in his friend's eyes, realising that the memory of the horrors of the War of Wrath, where the elves fought Morgoth and his followers - like balrogs – was still vivid in the Elves’ minds.
The awkward silence that fell after that only intensified Galadriel's foreboding that she had felt ever since they’d arrived a few hours ago.
Something didn’t feel right. A tingling sensation wouldn’t leave her body, her ears were prickling, and the prince was all too accommodating, given how the last meeting between King Durin III and the elves had gone.
They weren’t allowed in the vast cavern the city was carved within, only in the guest caverns high above. Durin and Disa had welcomed them with pomp - a lavish feast, loud music, and poetry. However, it didn’t deter Galadriel from suspecting that she and Elrond were being carefully kept away from the central part of the underground kingdom, even when Durin explained he’d been trying to keep them safe from his father.
She needed to know what the Dwarves were hiding. She needed to see if she could trust them enough to tell them about the rings. She had to find out whether they would be loyal allies or if she should abandon her hopes of building an army – an alliance that could wipe Sauron off the face of Arda.
A little pang of sorrow and guilt struck her again, just like every time she thought about him.
“Would you mind showing me the tree growing under the rock Elrond told me about, your highness?” Galadriel innocently asked, trying to judge his reaction.
Elrond told her about the impressive architecture of the kingdom and the gifted tree growing in the royal courtyards, with the sunlight hitting it from high above.
A panicked look on Durin’s face assured her there was more at play than just a fear of his father's wrath.
He opened his mouth, probably to spew another lie but an agonising scream came from within the palace below.
Elrond turned his gaze onto the dwarf and said in a low, careful voice, “Durin…?”
Galadriel wasn’t listening as the scream they’d heard filled her with an overwhelming need to find the source of it and make it stop.
It wouldn’t stop. The scream turned into the wild howling of a wounded animal. But it wasn’t an animal but a man’s suffering finding its way out of his body. She wanted to seek that man and join him in that release, to scream as he was doing. She envied him because her pain was bottled up inside her, unable to escape.
She was afraid if she let it slip out, there would be no turning back, and the darkness would take over every cell of her being… and then Sauron would be right.
“What is going on there?” Elrond asked the dwarf.
“An old man came here two days ago, saying he needed access to our mines down below to help his wounded companion.” Durin looked sheepish but shrugged casually.
“And the king simply agreed to that?” Galadriel was suspicious now.
“No”, the prince seemed offended. “The old wanderer and my father talked privately for a long time, and then the three were allowed in.”
“Three?” Galadriel enquired.
“The old man, a young one, and their unconscious comrade.” The dwarf looked pensive for a moment but then shrugged again, “Well, nobody is allowed there but them, so there’s that. I don’t know what magic they are conjuring…” he said in a conspiratorial tone, “…but ever since they’ve arrived, the mithril has come to the surface of the cavern walls.” He looked pointedly at Elrond.
The elf wasn’t given a chance to respond as a young dark-haired man burst into the hall, saying excitedly, “Your Highness, we need more!”
Durin nodded and left without a word.
Galadriel looked at the human, feeling like she’d seen him before.
“Who are you?” she demanded.
His head snapped towards her, his brown eyes went wide, and a smile appeared on the handsome face, “Lady Galadriel!”
The man seemed genuinely pleased to see her. She took a step back.
“Who are you?” she repeated, cautiously this time.
“I’m Isildur, son of Elendil of Númenor, my lady!” he said. She relaxed a little, hearing the name of the noble Númenorean she’d grown to trust and respect, and remembering now the young man from the ship from Númenor.
Galadriel smiled at Isildur and said, “The stable sweep. Were you at the battle of Tirharad?”
His face fell when he nodded, “Yes… and I lost friends there.”
All those present fell into a moment of silence.
“I was left behind…everyone must’ve thought I’d died,” he continued, “But I’m alive. Thank the gods! Otherwise I wouldn’t be able to help the King!” he finished pompously.
“The King?” Elrond asked.
“Yes! The King of the Southlands!” Isildur exclaimed.
Galadriel’s vision turned red, and the pounding of her heart muffled any other soundsexterior sounds were muffled. All she could hear clearly was the pounding of her heart, pumping blood and viciously releasing it where it sloshed and sped through the tunnels of her arteries and veins, spreading the numbing and tingling sensation all over her body.
“Galadriel?” Elrond's blurred face appeared before her, and she snapped out of her shock.
He crouched in front of her and gently took her hands into his. He looked worried, and the compassion in his soft gaze assured Galadriel that he somehow sensed what she was going through.
Elrond was wise, and he most likely knew what a gut punch to her was any mention of the Southlander. She knew from the moment he’d seen her by Halbrand’s bed, watching the man being taken care of by the elvish healers. The sympathy in his eyes was unmistakable, and in the way he squeezed her hand, as if her emotional attachment to the man lying unconscious was reason enough to feel sorry for her.
She didn’t want his pity, and she didn’t want to be forgiven for the grave mistake of trusting a stranger met while stranded at sea. She wanted that stranger to pay for all he’d made her go through, for his deception, for making her feel...
She wanted to avenge the naive Galadriel she had been mere weeks ago.
She needed that revenge!
So the Lady of Light, in her dark hour, suddenly jumped onto her feet, toppling Elrond over, pulled her newly crafted dagger out of its sheath and hissed darkly, her eyes piercing a now-terrified Isildur, “Where is he?”
When the young man hadn’t answered, she bolted through the door he came in, ran down the stone stairs, and hopped on top of a lift going down.
She ignored her friend’s urgent calls, and once the lift descended enough for her to jump off it, she leapt and landed on a stone platform with a soft thud.
She ran across a narrow bridge leading to the palace grounds, releasing her fury in the form of a roar, “Halbraaand!!!”
Her voice echoed around the cavernous kingdom as she ran toward the palace, trusting her senses and that feeling.
Suddenly another pained cry sounded. It was coming from the dark pits of a mine, with only a narrow staircase leading to it.
Galadriel didn't hesitate and followed the stairs, finding morbid satisfaction in the anguished screams of whom she suspected was Halbr… Sauron.
At the bottom of the stairs, there was a dwarf-sized entrance to a tunnel, illuminated by beautiful silver-blue veins of the elves’ life-giving mithril, glistening on the surface, luring her into whatever was inside.
And inside she went - through a corridor that veered into a vast cavern, filled with crystal clear water and moss growing all over the mithril-illuminated walls.
In a boat floating next to a central rocky islet, a ragged-looking man was sitting crossed-legged and muttering unintelligibly.
In front of him, on the islet, a man was lying still on a flat rock. His arms and chest were tangled in tendrils of vine-like mithril, and he was steadily breathing as if he hadn’t been in agony mere moments ago.
He was unconscious, but she recognised that face even from a distance of thirty feet - the unruly brown hair, big ears, and the mole on his neck.
“Sauron,” she growled.
That caught the old man’s attention. He turned, pointed his mangled staff at her, and ordered, “Do not dare touch him! We are not done yet!”
Galadriel ignored the warning and jumped into the water, only to realise her mistake in midair.
The man swung his staff at her and shouted, “Lóre, elda!”
She felt the control of her mind and body slipping away, and the last thing she registered was the coldness of the water surrounding her.
“Galadriel, calanya! Stay with me!”
She didn’t want to open her eyes, for fear that the familiar, soothing masculine voice she was hearing inside her mind would disappear.
The world around her was so quiet and cold. She felt weightless and, at the same time, heavy like a boulder.
“Come back. There’s nothing for you in the darkness”, the voice urged, and its familiarity made the elf want to find its owner.
But when she opened her eyes, only blackness surrounded her on all sides and above - a sparkling surface she desperately wanted to reach.
The weight of her gown was dragging her down toward the bottomless void, and Halbrand wasn’t here, after all, to help her as he had in the Sundering Seas.
The elf kicked and flailed, trying to rid of the dress that held her down. She felt her lungs struggle to hold the little oxygen they had left. With a last effort, she wriggled free of her garment, and then, finally free and able to move, Galadriel swam up toward the light.
Just as she was nearing the surface, the old man’s hand grabbed her and pulled her out of the water onto the stone islet.
Galadriel grabbed the ledge of the rock, slowly dragged herself out of the water, rested against the flat rock, and gazed at Halbrand’s sleeping face.
Once, she’d used to think it was just a handsome face of a man characterised by intelligence, a boyish sense of humour, and reckless bravery. Nothing in that face was hinting at the evil lurking behind the closed eyelids, in the green eyes which had pleaded with her not that long ago to become his queen.
Oh! How she hated him! How she wanted to plunge her dagger into his wretched heart!
But she had dropped her dagger, and it was at the bottom of the lake now.
Exhausted and strangely entranced, Galadriel climbed atop the flat rock, laid down right against the unconscious Halbrand, and clenched her fist around his arm so she’d know when he’d wake up.
“I’ll kill you later”, she murmured and closed her eyes, feeling the pleasant warmth of his body seeping through her wet underthings.
“You’re safe now,” the soothing whisper sounded again in her mind.
Galadriel allowed herself to drift off, feeling that it wasn’t a lie.
Chapter Text
For the first time in days, Halbrand gathered enough strength to open his eyes for longer than a few breaths and looked around to get his bearings.
Above him, beams of light slid down the rocky walls to illuminate the cavern. The dripping water echoed around the space, and blueish glowing veins under the rock’s surface only added to the rather eerie atmosphere.
Better blue glowing rocks than lava, Halbrand thought, And I’m not dead, so, I suppose, it’s a win. A somewhat warped sense of humour was his go-to coping mechanism whenever he was scared or uncertain.
He remembered being woken up multiple times by an unbearable pain running through every artery and poisoned cell of his body, through his very soul. He didn’t know what had been happening to him or where he’d even been brought in by the old man, who wore blue misfitting robes, but his saviour was confident that Halbrand was more than the human man that he looked like. Did the old man know about the deeds of his dark past?
Adding to Halbrand’s anguish were nightmares and visions, those reaching far beyond the world’s creation included. Some were marred with violence, anger, and regrets. Others were comforting, like the gentle sound of flowing water, the soft cooing of a newborn, and the welcoming embrace of golden light.
The only simages or visions that he could recognise were the ones involving a feisty she-elf who’d become as important to him as the leather burden he’d been carrying with him.
Halbrand, in panic, reached for his pouch, but the hand he tried to raise was immobilised. Until now, he hadn’t noticed the extra weight on his arm… or the warmth of someone’s body.
He frowned and turned his fuzzy-feeling head to see who had made a pillow out of his now-numb limb and saw the face etched in his mind so profoundly he knew he wouldn’t forget it for millennia after Arda was gone.
Her petite body was pressed tightly against his side, head resting on his shoulder. Her hand rested on his chest, and her leg atop his thigh.
Halbrand smiled and indulged in inhaling her pleasant scent while his arm encircled her waist and gently caressed her silky skin, as she wasn’t wearing much. Then, he touched her thick braid and traced the contour of her pointy ear.
The woman hummed contently, nuzzled her face in his chest, her fingers combed through his chest hair, and shifted her body, trying to make her position more comfy.
”Galadriel”, he whispered, tortured by these delicious ministrations, then gulped loudly, closed his eyes, and took a few deep breaths to calm his body’s reaction.
His eyes snapped open when the realisation that she had found him after all came, and a happy smile brightened his face. Finally! Someone he can trust. Someone who might help him understand what had been going on!
He embraced Galadriel and chuckled with relief.
“What’s so funny?” an unfamiliar voice startled Halbrand, and his head snapped towards the entrance to the cavern where an elf and a dwarf were standing, watching him intently.
A young man he’d come to know as Isildur was nearby with his arms on his hips, grinning at him.
“I knew it”, he laughed and walked to a little stone jetty, and after untying a rope attached to a post, he started pulling it to bring a boat floating in the middle of the lake closer, as if it was a ferry.
On the boat, which seemed to be the only dry connection between the islet and the entrance, the old man whom Isildur had nicknamed the Mage was sitting motionlessly, with his eyes closed, murmuring under his breath.
Halbrand wanted to know more about the Mage whose presence felt familiar and comforting. But he noticed the unfriendly stare of the elf on the other side.
Seeing the elf’s fine clothing, he suddenly felt the need to cover himself with something… something more than Galadriel!
He slowly sat up, gently untangling himself from the sleeping woman’s embrace, and gazed down at her and her pale body, which made his mind summon rather explicit images and memories.
Halbrand took a deep, calming breath in and exhaled very slowly.
“Isildur, could you pass us some clothing, please?” he asked conversationally but glaring at the he-elf whom he’d decided to treat as a potential threat. Elves were not to be trusted after all!
“Right away, my lord!” the young man started pulling at the rope more vigorously, and when the boat was close enough, he grabbed a bundle of fabric and hopped onboard. The Mage didn’t even stir – he was in a trance-like state.
Isildur pulled at another rope attached to the islet, and soon he was handling Halbrand the clothing.
“There should be a cape for the lady here." the younger man said, rustling through the bundle and pulling out a mass of moss-green fabric.
Just before he handed the cloak over, Isildur asked, “How are you feeling, my lord? I was worried about you. Morinehtar said you’d be fine, but I wasn’t sure of it at all!” his young face looked genuinely worried when he eyed Halbrand’s chest.
Halbrand looked down and saw a vague network of veins marring it and radiating from the place where the wound in his stomach had been. He’d swear they were faintly glowing, but it surely had to be just the cavern’s illumination that created that illusion!
“Help me out here and put the cloak down on the stone”, he ordered, and then he moved sleeping Galadriel and wrapped her in the cloth.
“By the way, what did you mean by I knew it?” he asked curiously while putting the clothes on - the underthings, a charcoal tunic, black leather leggings and boots, bronze chain belts, and leather armguards.
His friend grinned again and said, “When you two arrived in Númenor, all sorts of bets were made. The most popular one was that you two were lovers on the run, fished out of the sea by my father.”
“Well, you’d lose that bet. We were both on the run but separately,” Halbrand smiled mirthlessly. Although, if he were completely honest, he’d have to admit he wished that Galadriel would stay at his side and become someone even closer than a lover.
“Worry not! There’s still time - the bet is still on, my lord” Isildur had the audacity to wink at him!
Halbrand shook his head, smirking, and arranged the belts on his hips. Then he turned toward the two strangers across the lake, raised his hand in a greeting, and bowed his head.
“I assume it is you to whom I owe my thanks for allowing me to stay here, my lord?” he waved at the dwarf who, out of the two men, looked like he belonged in this underground realm.
“Aye. Welcome to the city of Khazad-dûm”, said the dwarf, puffing up his chest and then giving his elf friend a side look, “Elrond, here, may not seem friendly, but I assure you he’s one of the finest elves you’ll ever meet”, he paused and huffed, “If, of course, any of those creatures can be called fine in any way.”
That earned him a smack on the shoulder from the he-elf.
“You do not need to introduce us, my dear prince. Halbrand here and I became acquainted not that long ago…” Elrond fixed his gaze on Halbrand in a way that made the man very uncomfortable, “… in Eregion. Did we not… Lord Halbrand?” the elf smirked sardonically at him.
That new information hit Halbrand like a rock hurled by a mountain troll.
He took a step back, but his calves hit the rock behind him, and he lost his balance, falling back into a sitting position with his backside pressed against Galadriel, who murmured something as if she was about to wake up.
“I’m afraid you must be mistaking me for somebody else, Lord Elrond” he shrugged and sent the man an apologetic smile. “I don’t know you, and as much as I’d love to go one day, I’ve never been to Eregion.” he shrugged and looked straight into Elrond’s eyes to show him he wasn’t lying.
“Impossible”, the elf said quietly and looked at the water’s glistening surface. “But we talked. You worked with master Celebrimbor in his workshop. And then you left abruptly, leaving Galadriel shaken and enraged.” he looked up, and Halbrand saw no hostility in his posture anymore, only confusion.
Halbrand didn’t know what to say to that. He didn’t want to accuse the elf of lying or being delusional, but he couldn’t find any other explanation for the supposed events.
Nobody said anything. Dripping water and he Mage’s quiet murmuring were now the only sounds bouncing around the cavern.
Suddenly, a low rumbling noise filled the room. The men looked at each other in confusion.
Durin scratched his beard and laughed awkwardly, “My belly tells me it is time to eat, so maybe we could continue this somewhat bizarre conversation at the dining table, huh?” he looked hopefully at the others.
“You’re hungry? Again?” the elf shook his head and chuckled.
“I’m all for it!” Isildur said enthusiastically and jumped back into the boat, waiting for Halbrand to join him.
Elrond and Halbrand nodded at each other in a silent agreement to wait with whatever needed to be discussed.
Halbrand looked at the sleeping elf and lifted her off the rock, holding her tightly in his arms. He was still weak, but she didn’t weigh much. He got up, and just as he was about to step into the boat, Morinehtar opened his eyes and said firmly, pointing his staff at him, “You cannot leave this lake now, Dréfengást!”
After hearing that name, Halbrand was rooted to the spot and stared at the wizard. He wasn’t sure why he was surprised to hear the man talk, but he had not expected it any time soon.
“Why not?” was all he managed to come up with, stupified.
“Apparently, the lake is….” Isildur came with help, “…the only thing stopping the flame deep underneath us from sensing your presence.” he recited as if he’d learnt the words by heart and looked to the Mage for approval. The old man only rolled his eyes at that.
Halbrand knew better than to argue with the weird man, and so far, he hadn’t had any reason not to trust him, so he assumed he’d find out at the right time.
However, Durin seemed quite unsettled by the possibility of anything living under his kingdom and asked, his voice an octave higher than usual, “What does that mean?”
“That means, my little friend, that I and… Halbrand…” he smiled at Halbrand, “….cannot leave the lake until we’re absolutely and instantly ready to leave the mountain. Otherwise, it could end in a disaster for your kingdom, my lord.”, Morinehtar bowed his head in respect.
His voice was deep and rough, and he sounded like he wasn’t used to speaking aloud. There was an aura of millennia-long existence, but he looked neither old nor young. The Mage had striking silver eyes and a fiery red beard with grey streaks running through it. Despite being tall and seemingly slender underneath the blue robes, Halbrand suspected the man was strong, agile and not to be trifled with.
In other words, Morinehtar was a being full of contradictions that should put off Halbrand, but something curious about the Mage made him stay close as his instincts told him he was dealing with a man who could help him in many ways… and that it wasn’t the first time the wizard had done so.
“Hmm…In this case, we will bring the feast to you” Durin tugged at his beard and scrunched his big nose, “Better safe than sorry.”
At that, he turned away and disappeared into the narrow exit. Isildur followed, almost skipping with enthusiasm. That boy must not have seen much of the world and was eager to explore anything and everything.
Halbrand, while waiting for Elrond to cross over to the islet, sat by Galadriel, and rearranged the cloak to better cover her. He brushed stray hairs off her face, thinking about how alive he felt whenever she laid her eyes on him. How elegant and powerful she was in all possible ways.
He feared her, maybe even more than anything he’d experienced in Middle-Earth so far.
It was supposed to be his role to hunt and capture. And yet, he had let this headstrong she-elf capture him… in every sense of the word.
He huffed a little chuckle and took her small hand in his, admiring the peaceful expression on her face.
“So that’s how it is….” Elrond’s voice sounded so close that Halbrand, startled, almost fell off the rock he was sitting on.
They both knew there was no point in denying his obvious affection for the elvish woman. Halbrand only nodded slowly and sighed, knowing he looked like a smitten fool.
The elf had kind eyes, but even now that he wasn’t openly hostile toward Halbrand, those eyes were looking at him intensely, assessing.
Eventually, Elrond sighed quietly, “There’s a lot we need to discuss. A lot.” He put his hand on the other man’s shoulder and continued, “But we should probably wait for my dear friend here to wake up, because if anybody deserves an explanation of any of it, it is her.”
The two men walked to the platform's edge and watched Morinehtar, who was back in his trance-like state.
“Who is he?” Elrond asked, narrowing his eyes, “There’s something odd about him.”
“And odd he is,” Halbrand shrugged as if he didn’t know what to say but couldn’t help himself and added, “And he knows who I am – what I am….”
“So do I… Sauron”, a venomous hiss sounded behind the men. Halbrand didn’t have enough time to turn around when he felt Galadriel’s weight on his back, and a second later, both plunged into the water.
Notes:
Dréfengást - language: Valarin; dréfend – hunter; gāst – soul, spirit, angel, demon
Valarin was based on Old English so that’s where I went to look for a suitable name 👀
Chapter Text
This time, she wouldn’t let him go - she would end his menacing existence in Middle-Earth. This time she’d avenge Finrod and her kin, who had been slain at Morgoth’s and Sauron’s orders.
And now, she had him in front of her, under the water, so he couldn’t spew his lies. It was her best chance in centuries!
She attempted to climb on the man’s back and drag him deeper, unsuccessfully. The ease with which Halbrand held Galadriel at arm's length enraged her further. She thrashed and kicked, ready to drown if it meant he’d go down too.
She managed to throw a few well-aimed punches and scratch his arms, but without any blade, she was helpless, even though Halbrand was only defending himself, never attacking.
Just as the elf started to feel she had to get to the surface to take a breath, he suddenly made a move.
Before she could react, Halbrand had her back against his torso, both wrists firmly pinned to her chest with his hand, and her legs tangled between his. He grabbed the submerged rope that had kept the boat near the islet and pulled them up.
They emerged onto the rocky ledge, coughing and gasping for air. His arms supported the elf so that she could catch a breath. She was half-lying on the rock and half-immersed in the lake.
“Do not touch me, you snake!” Galadriel wheezed out and tried to push him away, but her tired limbs were trembling, and she had no strength.
Moments later, she felt an arm encircling her waist and helping her out of the water. She sat on the floor with her back resting against the rock and nodded at Elrond, thankful for his help.
Shivering, Galadriel closed her eyes, trying to compose herself before getting up and fighting Hal…Sauron. As that name ran through her mind, Halbrand hoisted himself up from the lake onto his feet and edged away from her.
She had hoped that she had more time. But there were two of them against the Dark Lord now.
And soon there will be four, she thought, noticing the dwarf and the human enter the cavern.
That might be their only chance to defeat the enemy. He must still not be at his full strength, was unarmed, and had no allies with him!
Clumsily, she stood up, scrunched her nose and bared her teeth, ready to attack again. Her eyes never left the target, who was now glaring at her from the far end of the islet.
He looked like the man she first encountered at sea. He was dripping wet, standing wide-legged with his hands on his hips. Bruises and scratches marred his face and arms.
Halbrand’s eyes were fixed on her - his deceivingly human green eyes, not the fiery slits she’d seen in the vision induced by him.
“What’s going on?!” Durin’s voice sounded confused and curious. The sloshing of water meant the boat was being moved.
“Be careful!” Galadriel warned the newcomers, as she didn’t want anyone to get hurt.
“Galadriel …” Elrond took a step toward her and raised his hands placatingly.
Like she was some wild animal! Like she was the problem!
Enough already! Elrond’s mental voice penetrated her mind angrily. Was he mad… at her?
It dawned on her that Elrond and the rest of the company had no clue whom they were dealing with or what danger they were in!
“He is not who you think he is,” Galadriel said with urgency in her voice, throwing Halbra… Sauron a contemptuous glare.
“I was about to explain that when you attacked me, elf!” Halbrand growled, making her clench her fists.
“Do not believe a word this deceiver says, Elrond!” she said through her teeth. Her friend just blinked and looked at Halbrand, raising his eyebrows. Hal…Sauron only shrugged in response.
“He’s Sauron! We need to kill him!!” she knew her voice sounded almost hysterical, but she didn’t care anymore. The truth was out, and Galadriel felt relieved.
Everybody gasped. Even Halbrand looked dumbfounded. Did he really think she would never admit what she had done? That his return was her fault entirely?
Everybody looked around in stunned silence, trying to judge each other’s reactions.
Halbrand stepped forward and folded his arms across his chest, glowering at her as if she’d slighted him in the worst possible manner.
“What are you talking about, Galadriel?” his voice was dangerously quiet.
She had to use all her will not to take a step back and protectively wrap her arms around herself. Instead, she jutted her chin out and straightened her back.
“Do not EVER say my name, Sauron!” she spat out, feeling unwanted tears gathering suddenly.
Not long ago, she’d enjoyed hearing her name coming out of his mouth. And there’d been so many different ways he’d done it – sometimes with anger or impatience, other times with amusement or affection, but always with his full undivided attention.
She’d felt comfortable in his presence… and that’s when she’d dropped her guard and got distracted by all those new events and feelings in her life.
And then Orodruin erupted, marking the beginning of the end of that strange and intense relationship she’d had with Halbrand.
Why can’t you be real? Galadriel’s shoulders dropped at that sad thought as she stared at her feet, dejected.
“I am real, Galadriel”, sounded in her head, in Halbrand’s soft baritone voice that she’d grown to treasure.
Her head snapped up in surprise, and they looked into each other’s eyes. Hers were filled with furry and unshed tears of sadness, and his – with anger and hurt. No laughter wrinkles were radiating from the corner of his eyes now like they had used to whenever he’d found something even remotely amusing.
“No.” Galadriel shook her head to rid herself of the unwanted memories and sent Halbrand a stern look. “You will not trick me again.”
He sighed, “I never have.” His eyes were pleading now as he took a step forward, “Galadriel, I…”
“What’s going on here, Durin?!” a female voice interrupted, causing a commotion among the men.
Galadriel and Halbrand were still looking at each other for a few breaths. She was hoping he’d finish whatever he had been about to say.
But he didn’t. He peeled his eyes off the elf and faced the cavern’s entry where Durin’s wife Disa, was standing.
“My lady”, he said politely, bowing with the effortless elegance of someone who’d spent enough time at royal courts to master the art.
“Lord Halbrand, it’s good to see you up!” Lady Disa waved gracefully to him and joined her husband and Isildur, who had resumed pulling at the boat.
The princess looked at Galadriel and her eyes went wide, “Oh dear! We need to give you some clothes, you poor thing.” She turned to one of the servants and told him to fetch some attire.
Only now, Galadriel noticed she was wearing merely her underthings and remembered the weird old man had knocked her into the water with a spell. I nearly drowned, she scoffed at the oblivious Mage.
She watched the dwarvish princess whom she had met briefly after their arrival in Khazad-dûm. Now she had a chance to admire the woman’s radiant smile, golden eyes, and the glowing dark richness of her skin on which light reflected in water danced and drew intricate patterns.
“Boys, there’s no time to waste! The meats will get cold.” Disa commanded, and baskets of food were brought onto the boat still occupied by the Mage.
Morinehtar didn’t even budge and sat still, despite not being in the meditative state any longer. He was watching Galadriel now, and even the princess’s grumbling wouldn’t distract him.
That made Galadriel very uncomfortable. There was a demand in the old man’s stare, and she didn’t know whether she was more unsettled by this or curious about the reason behind it. She also hadn't forgiven him for knocking her out!
She turned and sat beside Elrond, who was sitting on the boulder, pensively stroking his chin.
They watched Isildur and a few servants transporting the goods to the islet. The royals waited patiently on the other side, squabbling lovingly.
“Elrond, you need to believe me. This man cannot be trusted”, Galadriel whispered imploringly. “I don’t know what he’s up to and why he still keeps this farce going…”
“Exactly, Galadriel!” her friend interrupted her. “If he’s Sauron like you say, what would he gain from all this? From even being here? Durin said he was in a bad state when they arrived. Why would he let anyone attack him after he’d left Eregion, or continue to pretend to be just a human… if he’s indeed the Dark Lord? ”
He looked at her apologetically, “I’m sorry, my friend, but this doesn’t make sense.”
“Are you saying I made up everything that happened in Eregion?!” she whispered bitterly.
“All I’m saying is if you trusted me and told me about your discovery there and then, I would have more time to digest this disturbing revelation!” Elrond responded impatiently and then looked at the man they were arguing about. “It is hard to fathom that that man over there is evil incarnate.”
Now, both stared at Halbrand, who, in return, raised his eyebrows inquiringly and hooked his thumbs on his belt.
“It’s Halbrand, Galadriel!” Elrond’s frustration was palpable, and she knew he was going through some hard times, trying to piece the puzzle together.
All the questions he posed were valid, and it hadn’t even occurred to her to ask them because her impulsiveness and thirst for Sauron’s blood had taken over.
But she wasn’t wrong! That man could charm his way anywhere he so desired. He was Sauron, and he was a shapeshifter and a great manipulator! She glared at the man.
“You are not my Halbrand.”
The “my Halbrand” resounding in his mind made him experience a feeling he had never had before - delight mixed with a fluttery buzzing in his stomach.
Ah, so she hates me less than she says she does. He tucked that pleasant thought away for later, lazily watching the meal set out, the servants leaving the cavern, and the royals and the young Númenórean arriving on the islet.
Halbrand had overheard the conversation the two elves had had. He felt flattered and offended at the same time. To be thought of as Sauron tickled his ego, as that Maia was far more powerful than he was. But to be thought of as Sauron was also an insult, as the Dark Lord’s obsession with Morgoth was as troubling as it was embarrassing.
Halbrand was angry with Galadriel for putting him on the spot like that. He knew that clarification had to come eventually, but on his terms! He would need Morinehtar’s help to get out of it in one piece now.
Halbrand looked for a spot to sit as everybody seemed to find theirs.
Galadriel, now fully dressed in a light grey-coloured leather tunic and blue linen leggings with matching boots, was conversing with Princess Disa. They sat at the furthest end of the flat rock that served as a table. Yet, Galadriel still couldn’t help herself and angrily glanced at him from time to time.
He chuckled soundlessly and shook his head, still annoyed with her but also feeling light and gleeful.
A burst of laughter turned his attention to Elrond and Durin, whose friendly bickering had a captive audience in Isildur. The young man reminded him of himself from a long time ago – so full of hope, so eager to explore and learn… for better or worse.
Halbrand wanted to join them but noticed Morinehtar looking at him intently from his spot in the boat, so instead, he grabbed some bread, meat, and fruit and walked to the islet’s edge.
“Here, have some food, old man” he waited patiently until the Mage pulled the boat closer so Halbrand could hand the plate and a cup to him.
“We need to leave this place," Morinehtar said, taking the offering and putting it on the boat’s floor.
“Now?” Halbrand asked incredulously, one of his cheeks bulging with a quarter of an apple he’d just shoved into his mouth.
The Mage didn’t answer. Instead, he hummed and stared at the water below as if trying to see what was hiding underneath the surface.
Halbrand couldn’t see his face through the long greying ginger strands covering it, but he could hear the old man chanting unintelligibly, making the water beneath ripple gently.
Bloody wizards, he rolled his eyes and returned to the rest of the company.
“Halbrand, join us!” Elrond welcomed him back and handed him a cup of mead. Halbrand thanked with a nod, sat on a stool brought by the servants, and gulped down all the liquid in his mug.
“So…Halbrand”, Galadriel said conversationally, sipping her wine elegantly, “Who are you?”
He paused and smirked without looking at her, amused by the ostensibly innocent question.
“Not Sauron," he said before taking a large bite of bread and thoroughly chewing it while smiling contently at her.
The elf put her cup down with a loud thud and growled, “How dare you mock me, you…you…”
“…snake?” Halbrand supplied helpfully. He didn’t even have to look at her to know what came next.
Galadriel leapt to her feet, heaving, a bread knife in her hand.
“How uncouth of a daughter of the Golden House of Finarfin. Attacking with a bread knife? Really?” He tsked and wiped his mouth with his hand, “Then again, after all that time we spent on the raft together, getting to know each other so thoroughly, I shouldn’t be surprised by your fiery character now, should I?”
He smiled at her devilishly, internally laughing when she gasped with her mouth open, and her porcelain cheeks turned red hot, just like when they…
“Maybe we should calm down and be civil with each other?” Elrond interjected, standing up.
He looked at Halbrand, “So, no teasing, please?”
Then he turned to Galadriel and pointed at her knife, “And no murder… All right?”
Halbrand nodded, his eyes never leaving Galadriel, who now looked like a blushing statue moments away from exploding.
“What raft?” Durin, confused, inquired.
“Shush! None-of-your-business raft, that’s what.” Disa smacked his arm.
“But what happened on the raft?” the prince whispered theatrically, leaning over to his wife.
“Shush, you!” The princess looked like she was about to giggle.
Halbrand watched Galadriel gleefully. She was clenching her fists so hard he was surprised her nails hadn’t made her palms bleed.
He enjoyed that moment not because it was causing her embarrassment but because he felt in control for the first time in a long while. And he liked being in control.
“Shall we talk about what we were supposed to talk about then?” Elrond said diplomatically, looking at Galadriel with his eyebrows raised. It was evident that he had the same questions Durin had.
“Fine,” Halbrand said, slumping against the stone table,“Where do we start?”
Chapter Text
Galadriel was gutted… and furious… and mortified!
The last thing she’d expected was for Halbrand to casually blurt out what they’d agreed not to ever delve into. And he dared to smile with that smug grin of his!
She sat down, avoiding looking at him. There were more important things than their private animosities to analyse. Like his mysterious reappearance…
She was still afraid Halbrand was playing them all, but her friends seemed to trust the man, so she was willing to listen.
“Where did you go after leaving Eregion?” she asked dryly.
“I’ve never been there in the first place.” He answered, shrugging.
“Liar”, she scoffed and looked to Elrond for help. Her friend narrowed his eyes as he seemed to consider his words carefully.
“Halbrand, what is your last memory from before we met here?” he asked quietly.
“How about the one when you trapped me in the vision of us ruling Middle-Earth together?” Galadriel asked sarcastically.
“What?” Both Elrond and Halbrand looked at her with shock, as if she’d grown horns.
Oh no, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
“That’s irrelevant right now”, she said quietly and glared at Halbrand.
“It’s very much relevant, Galadriel,” Halbrand said tensely, sitting up straight.
“Tell us everything about your encounter with Sauron!” a hand suddenly grabbed her forearm, startling her.
She looked up and saw Morinehtar anxiously staring at her. Whatever had been said clearly unsettled him enough to leave the boat behind finally.
The elf swallowed all the questions she had and nodded at the man.
“You should be asking Halbrand about that”, she said, this time without malice. “As I see it now, it’s Sauron I've been dealing with ever since we met at sea” she lowered her head and closed her eyes.
This admission was so painful that she couldn’t look anyone in the eye. It was humiliating that she wasn’t ready to abandon hope that somewhere in the past, it had been Halbrand by her side, not a phantom conjured by Sauron to deceive her in the cruelest ways.
“Galadriel …” she heard Halbrand saying softly.
“Don’t.” Galadriel stopped him from whatever he was about to say.
Elrond leaned over to Halbrand. “We need to know to get a better idea of where to start looking for answers.”
“After the battle of Tirharad… After the eruption, I was looking for you, Galadriel. It was chaos.” Halbrand audibly swallowed, looking into the distance with absent eyes. “Maybe if I hadn’t been so focused on that, I would’ve heard Adar sneaking up on me!” He clenched his fists. “Before I could react, he put a knife under my ribs and left me in a ditch.”
Halbrand looked straight at Galadriel with a tormented expression, “I could hear you call my name and… and I couldn’t even answer!”
He rubbed his face with his hands, “And then there was only darkness and nightmares. For how long - I don’t know… hours, days, weeks…?”
“Four days”, Isildur supplied. “We found you four days after the disaster… First, Morinehtar dug me out from under a burnt-down barn, and then we searched for you.”
“Why were you looking for Halbrand?” Elrond asked curiously.
“I wasn’t.” Isildur shook his head and then pointed at the Mage, “He was.”
All heads turned toward the old man, who wasn’t in haste to respond in any way.
Eventually, he said, “I was on my way from Rhûn, simply passing by when I came across these two.”
“But you were sifting through the village like you were looking for something!” the young Númenórean insisted.
“I just… had a hunch”, the Mage replied, seemingly bored. “And then I had to nurse both of you. And after that, instead of going to Númenor, I ended up here”, he finished sourly.
“And what’s wrong with here?” Durin got up, offended.
“Here is not there, is it?” Morinehtar said drily, rolling his eyes. Durin huffed at the admittedly vague explanation but said nothing else.
“Then why did you end up here?” Princess Disa asked, confused.
The Mage sighed and said, “Mithril.”
Durin, Disa, and Elrond exchanged concerned looks.
“Why mithril?” the elf enquired, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.
“To help heal Halbrand’s wound.”
Elrond rolled his eyes impatiently, “Why on Arda’s moon would you need mithril to do that?”
“The wound was poisoned, and whatever the poison it was, it was created by someone with a knowledge of the dark arts,” the Mage explained, patiently this time, and then gazed at Halbrand, who was looking at his veins and tracing them with a finger.
“It had to be done with the light of Valinor.” The older man poked Halbrand in the chest with his staff, “Without it, you’d drown in the darkness again, Dréfengást.”
Halbrand jumped onto his feet and started pacing frantically from one end of the thirty-foot-wide islet to the other, his head low, gait wide and aggressive.
“Don’t call me that,” he spat out, not looking at the wizard. “I’m unworthy of that name.”
Like a caged animal, Galadriel thought to herself, surprised by his outburst.
She’d listened in silence so far. Halbrand, Isildur and Morinehtar were painting quite a different picture of events from what she’d been told by those who had rescued Lord Halbrand – King of the Southlands. She had a lot to think through…
Suddenly, the implications of what had just been said dawned on her.
“What darkness are you speaking of, Mage?” she demanded, then got up and turned to Halbrand, “And why did he call you by a name that isn’t yours?”
She walked closer to Halbrand, who now was even more vigorously stomping around and mumbling unintelligibly, eyes fixed on the ground and hands clenched tightly.
“Halbrand!” she tried to get his attention, “Is Dréfengást your real name? What are you hiding?”
“HALBRAND!” she raised her voice enough to make the man stop pacing.
“WHAT?!!” he bellowed, breathing heavily and pinning her with his gaze. His eyes were now disturbingly bright and wild like he was about to lose control over himself. But it was still Halbrand’s eyes, not the vile slit of Sauron’s eyes.
The echo carried his voice and bounced it around the cavern’s walls. When it stopped, there was a moment of stillness, like the world froze in anticipation. Nobody dared breathe or move; the only sound was made by water, relentlessly dripping from the opening above them.
Moments later, a deep rumble vibrated through the cavernous room, making the lake’s surface ripple like the rock was awakening from deep within.
Galadriel looked up and closed her eyes, trying to pinpoint the source of the rumble. The sound stopped, but she still felt its tremors within herself.
“You have to leave. Now.” Morinehtar sounded alarmed when he walked up to Halbrand, pacing again, and stuck his staff out to stop him, “Dréfengást, let’s go.”
The younger man glared at him but said nothing. After a moment, he moved toward the boat, but the elf got in his way.
“You’re not going anywhere until I get my answers!” Galadriel crossed her arms on her chest. She was tired of this tug-of-war to get any information from the uncommunicative old man and the snarky Halbrand.
She was slowly accepting the thought that there was a sliver of chance that Halbrand was not Sauron, and that the person she’d brought to Eregion was indeed the Dark Lord, using some trickery to look like Halbrand and get close to Celebrimbor’s forge… But the mention of “darkness” made her think that anything regarding Halbrand was still murky at best.
Another tremor rolled through the cave.
“There’s no time for that, elf!” the Mage whirled with surprising agility for someone of his age and said with urgency, “Is there any other exit out from the mountain from within this cavern, Prince Durin?”
A frightened-looking Durin shook his head, “No… unless you’re willing to scale this rock.” He pointed up toward where the daylight was coming through the fissure in the mountain.
Morinehtar grumbled but said, “That’ll do,” and rushed to the boat and looked at the rest of the confused company.
“You, boy,” he pointed at Isildur, “take the elves and the dwarves out of here and then bring the boat back so we can leave”, he finished, waving vaguely in the direction of the opening.
“I’m not letting Halbrand out of my sight!” Galadriel took a step back and glared at the Mage.
“Suit yourself…” he grimaced, “…if you’re willing to climb.”
“That won’t be a problem,” she said smugly, raising her eyebrow.
“Galadriel, you should come with us!” Elrond implored as he was helping Princess Disa into the boat.
Galadriel gazed worryingly at Halbrand, who still was pacing, although less feverishly.
“I’ll be fine,” she turned to Elrond, who looked as concerned as she felt.
“Please, hurry back to Eregion, my friend,” Elrond said and sat on a bench next to Isildur, who immediately got to work and started pulling the ropes.
“Halbrand!” Elrond called out.
When Halbrand turned, and his oddly bright eyes zeroed on him, Elrond said softly, “Please be careful and make sure to arrive in one piece”, he nodded in Galadriel’s direction, with a smile she knew so well – teasing, gentle and kind but masking his worry.
To her surprise, Halbrand bowed his head and said, “Worry not, Lord Elrond. Your Lady of Light will be safe”, then he looked at her intensely, with a hint of a smile on his face. “Or will she?” he added in his mental voice to her.
Her eyes went wide at that, and she felt goosebumps all over, but oddly, didn’t feel threatened in any way. It was, perhaps, the little hint of the Halbrand she’d gotten to know so well that made her heart skip a beat.
“It is not her safety that I’m concerned about”, Elrond laughed and waved as they watched the boat reach the exit. Soon, their hosts and the elf disappeared into the tunnel, leaving Galadriel stunned by that friendly banter with someone they couldn’t trust!
Isildur didn’t hesitate and promptly crossed the lake after untying the rope linking the boat to the pier by the entrance. Morinehtar got into the boat to rummage through whatever possessions he had stored there.
“Here, it’s yours,” he emerged with a small bundle and threw it to Halbrand.
The man grabbed it greedily and proceeded to unroll the cloth hastily and sift through the meagre collection of apparently random things – a small piece of fabric that had something wrapped in it, an intricately carved dagger, a piece of rope, and a Númenórean smiths’ guild badge.
“It’s not here”, he said quietly to no one in particular, then whirled around and said, his voice sharp and demanding, “Where is the pouch, wizard!?”
“That’s all there was on you,” the old man shrugged, gathered his blue robes, and sat down.
“No”, Halbrand whispered, his eyes wide with… fear?
“No, no, no, no, no!” he went through the bundle again and again, and when he didn’t seem to find what he was looking for, he smashed his fist onto the rock and roared, “NOOO!!”
Everybody froze at that.
There was something genuinely frightening in Halbrand’s fury. Something vicious. It was like something inside him was waiting to be unleashed, and only his willpower kept it at bay.
Suddenly, a violent quake shook the cavern.
Galadriel and Halbrand immediately took a defensive stance, back-to-back, ready to fight against whatever was coming.
Some of the stones dislodged, falling into the water and making the rock dust float around, sparkling with the quartz particles. It would be a beautiful spectacle to watch if not for the tremors, deep rumbling from deep underneath, and the lake's water foaming up and creating small waves.
“We’ll figure out your pouch’s fate later. Now, hurry!” The Mage shouted as they were hastily getting into the rickety boat.
“What’s going on!?” Isildur’s terrified and confused expression mirrored Galadriel’s internal turmoil.
“That which I was trying not to disturb, is awakening,” Morinehtar said in a dark voice, holding on to the boat as the waves got aggressive.
“He shouldn’t be awake!” Halbrand sounded baffled, holding on to the bench with one hand, then looked down at the bundle in the other hand and frowned.
“No. He shouldn’t. And he isn’t… yet,” the Mag agreed, “But you stirred him with your wild outbursts”, he finished bitterly and coughed when a particularly brittle rock smacked into a nearby wall causing the rock dust to puff up and get into the eyes and up his nose.
“So it’s all my fault, is it?” the younger man’s voice raised by an octave, making it clear he felt offended. Galadriel would laugh if she weren’t so confused about what they were talking about.
“Fine, my presence and the dwarves mining the mithril also didn’t help either… probably”, the old man reluctantly agreed and pointed at a small rocky outcrop where the boat could moor relatively safely, “There, Isildur! Hurry!”
Halbrand took one of the oars from the Númenórean, and both men put all their effort into taking them to safety.
“It wasn’t my fault then”, Halbrand muttered under his breath grumpily.
Galadriel snorted and shook her head. The mixture of the grave danger they could be in and the testy exchange between the two men was so absurd she didn’t know what she wanted to do more – to scream or to laugh.
The boat hit the rock wall, and Morinehtar hurried to grab a protruding rock where the rope could be attached.
“Out you go!” he shooed them out of the boat.
“You’re not coming with us?” Isildur grabbed the man’s arm.
“No, boy,” the old man said calmly and patted the boy on the shoulder. He looked like he was about to break into a smile, “I have to stay here to try to put that beast back to sleep.”
“You sure you can handle it, old man?” Halbrand smirked mockingly.
“Why? Are you offering to take care of it, Dréfengást… for old times' sake?” the Mage teased him.
“No, I am not.” Halbrand’s face fell and the scowl reappeared on it.
“Then I’ll see you in Lindon, my friend,” Morinehtar said almost kindly. The men clasped their forearms and stayed in that position for a few moments, eyes locked like they were having a silent conversation.
“Lindon?” Galadriel was confused. They agreed to meet in Eregion.
He turned to Galadriel and grumbled, “I heard you have a problem with your Tree, my lady.”
Another rumble shook the cavern.
She had no time to think what the Mage meant by that, so she turned to begin the ascent, but the old man’s hand grabbed the sleeve of her leather kaftan.
“Apologies for forcing an unplanned bath onto you, my lady”, he smiled, and she had to smile back at the hint of humour in his eyes. Then he nodded in Halbrand’s direction and said, “And please, do take care of that firebrand, and I promise you, he’ll take care of the two of you well.”
Galadriel frowned at the cryptic words but had no chance to ask for clarification as the boat was rocking so violently she had to leave it immediately.
She watched Morinehtar being carried away by the waves for a few breaths, then glanced at the other two men clinging to the rock nearby, waves crashing against them. They had to move now, or else they’d get swept away by the tumultuous waters.
She started the climb.
“Galadriel!” insistence in Halbrand’s voice made her look at the man with the dagger in his hand. He tossed the blade up in the air, flipped it so its pommel was directed at her, and offered it to her, “To keep you safe, elf”, he looked at her seriously, like he knew how little trust she had in him, and it hurt him.
Galadriel and Halbrand locked their eyes, and for a moment, she felt like they were back on the raft when she’d called out to him to bind himself to her.
And bound we are. With that thought, she started the climb.
Chapter Text
A cool gust of wind roused Halbrand from his slumber. He lazily opened his eyes and looked up at the night sky. It felt so good not to be surrounded by the moss-covered wet rock anymore.
He moved towards the edge of the rock shelf they were camping on, just above the green forest’s treeline, sat down with his legs dangling off it, and scanned his surroundings.
The night was cloudless and bright as the massive orb of the full moon hung over the river valley, allowing him to see far, from the forested landscape to the west, the mountains to the north, south, and east, and Eregion’s mighty city of the elven smiths Ost-in-Edhil to the south-west.
Halbrand closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. He hadn’t realised how much he loved feeling a breeze on his face, even if it was a cool mountain breeze.
He felt alive.
Maybe it was an effect of the treacherous climb and the walk through Khazad-dûm’s abandoned tunnels. Or perhaps it was the relief that he finally was in complete control of his body and mind.
He still had questions about the events of the past weeks, but at the moment, his only worry was the missing pouch.
During the hours-long climb and trail, he couldn’t stop thinking about it, replaying his last-remembered actions in his head, trying to remember everyone he’d met up until then. He’d never been separated from it, ever since he’d gotten it… except once in Númenor when his anger had taken over, and he threw it in Galadriel’s face.
He smiled. Oh, how she’d played him then…or had it been him subconsciously trying to get rid of the burden? Or worse – had he not been in complete control of his actions?
He would want to have me away from it; it was a dangerous thought that had been nagging him for a while.
Halbrand wondered why Galadriel insisted he’d been to Eregion as Sauron. That might be a wild accusation, but he couldn’t shake off the feeling that her allegation, and his missing pouch, were connected. He wouldn’t put it past Mairon to seek revenge in the most childish ways – by stealing his form to use it to hurt those Halbrand cared for. However, the possibility of what the Dark Lord could have done during his time as Halbrand unsettled him greatly.
The dark thoughts swirled around his mind. He knew his past deeds would come back to haunt him eventually. He knew he’d have to gather all his courage to admit all his sins out loud… especially to the elf who thought that she had trusted him one too many times.
He wanted to confess, and he needed counsel from those whose wisdom was timeless. But that meant crossing the ocean and leaving everything behind.
She won’t like it, he thought to himself, watching sleeping Galadriel’s petite figure curled by the fire set up outside the mine’s exit. She seemed at peace, and there was no anger or scowl on her unmarred, porcelain skin. A delicate blush on her cheeks and the way she held tight to the dagger he’d given her were the only hints that she wasn’t merely a figurine.
Perfect, he thought as he leaned over and gently removed a stray strand of hair from her face.
“Do you think an elf would ever consider settling for a mortal man?” a quiet voice startled Halbrand, who quickly moved away from the sleeping woman and sat back on the ledge.
“Isildur,” he sighed with relief, “Don’t ever sneak up on me!”
“I was just sitting here this entire time,” the younger man smirked, motioning at the spot where he was resting against a mossy boulder, “You were just too busy admiring the views to notice” he finished with a chuckle.
Embarrassed, Halbrand glared at him, but since he had no retort, he busied himself with adding twigs to the fire. Because what could he say to Isilur who simply besides simply stating the obvious?
“No, I don’t think it would be wise of any elf to engage in a relationship with a mortal,” Halbrand said quietly, looking into the distance. “The elf wouldn’t deserve all the pain that comes with watching your loved ones die, one by one. Also, elves love only once, and for eternity. Loving a mortal for them means a few decades of joy, and thousands of years of sorrow after the mortal’s death.”
After weeks on the raft in the middle of the sea, and weeks in Númenor, Halbrand wasn’t sure he’d want to exist in a world without Galadriel. She made him reconsider what being a man meant, and her presence in his life had taught him how being vulnerable around someone that close could make him stronger and allow him to start healing.
The fact he’d rejoiced when she’d gotten arrested and thrown into a prison cell next to his should be troubling. But he still felt that joy of having her near.
The fact he hadn’t gone into a violent frenzy when she’d physically assaulted him and called him Sauron should astound him. But she was his Light, and the darkness would not regain power over him even if she refused to stand with him.
His broken spirit had yearned for this peace for too long.
In a moment of pure honesty, Halbrand said, “Galadriel bound my Shadow to her Light and my very soul to hers.”
He took a deep breath to calm his pounding heart. Expressing his feelings aloud made everything so final, so real…. so terrifying.
His head snapped to the elf, hearing her shuffling and rustling to change her sleeping position so her back could get warmed by the fire.
“I overheard my father saying that he’s never seen anyone so much at peace as when he saw you two sleeping on that pathetic raft. He thought it was because you had made peace with the fact that you were going to die there”, Isildur chuckled, “But hearing you now makes me think it was some cosmic machination that bound you to each other right there, in the middle of the Sundering Seas.”
“Must be”, Halbrand smiled. “Otherwise, how else would she convince me to go back to Middle-Earth – a place I had run away from and swore never to return to?”
“Run away?” the Númenórean shook his head, “Middle-Earth has always been a place I wanted to explore! Why would you want to leave it for good?” he seemed confused, “And where would you go? Númenor? Surely not the Undying Lands!” he laughed at his joke.
“Actually…”, Halbrand paused, considering how much he could confess to Isildur. He sensed that the young man was trustworthy like his father, and it was safe to tell him everything… well, almost everything.
“Actually, that’s exactly where I was headed when I met Galadriel.” He held his breath, waiting for a lightning strike, earthquake, or other nature's violent reaction to this dramatic reveal.
But nothing happened. The night remained still, silent, and bright. What he thought would be hard to confess became merely a subject of casual late-night conversation. It was pretty disappointing as he’d kept this secret for so long and expected some reaction from Eä.
I clearly overstated my own importance, he huffed, amused with himself.
“And it wasn’t about running away from Middle-Earth but escaping what I’d waited for centuries to happen,” Halbrand looked into the distance, pondering his past.
“Centuries? How old are you?” Isildur frowned, and then his face brightened, “Are you a Númenórean!?”
“No, I am not.” Halbrand understood his companion’s assumption as the Valar had gifted the people of Númenor with centuries-long lives. He wished that was true because Númenor was an awe-inspiring place, and he’d be happy to be one of the Sons of the Sea.
“Then what are you?” the younger man gave him a curious look, “Morinehtar called you by a weird name a few times”, he squinted.
“I’m…” Halbrand hesitated, choosing his words carefully, “…something else… And I am here to pay for my past misdeeds…” he wrinkled his nose, seeing Isildur giving him an incredulous look.
“Can you be any more vague?” the Númenorean asked sarcastically. “Are you the King of the Southlands or not?”
This was the moment Halbrand had to make a final decision here, in the middle of the cold night, to someone he’d known for such a short time.
“No, I am not.” He chose honesty, and there was no turning back from the truth. “Although I knew the last King of the Southlands briefly.”
“And when was that?” Isildur looked amused, “I take that was why you had to flee Middle-Earth?” he smirked.
“I wish,” Halbrand said grimly, truly wishing for such a trivial explanation.
He took a deep breath and looked into the fire, deciding where to begin his story.
Halbrand followed the Great River and hid for days to no avail His shadow had been relentlessly closing in on him. He felt it. The air was static, the rain tasted metallic, and the eerie stillness of the night was too quiet, too charged.
He had no time to waste, but the Hordern folk who had escaped the Orcs’ attack on their village were following him for some unknown reason.
He was a hunter, a guard – not the leader those people thought they’d found in him. And he didn’t want to be a leader either! He just needed to cross the Sundering Seas and get an audience with those he’d opposed for so long! He didn’t need the additional burden.
But when he listened to the river’s whispering waters and saw how helpless and terrified those people were, he knew he couldn’t leave them behind and that he’d take them to the sea, away from danger.
The day they got to the seashore, the heavens opened, and the torrential rain and howling winds made the sea waters foam and crush angrily on the cliffs. Was it the Vala of the oceans, Ulmo, trying to prevent him from abandoning Middle-Earth? Or was it his vassal Ossë who was having yet another fit of rage and malice?
Halbrand had to sail to the Undying Lands. It was high time to unburden himself from the pouch, as things hadn’t gone as planned.
Whatever had happened in the icy mountains of Forodwaith made Mairon’s spirit roam free, searching for his missing essence – the sole thing that kept him from regaining his full strength to unleash a new hell onto Middle-Earth.
Maybe if he had had help, he would have had enough strength to finish his task… Admittedly he was on his own by his choosing, but in times like these, he wished he had sought an ally, a friendly soul.
He knew he wouldn’t find it amongst the rabble of his followers , but not wanting to abandon them on the shore, he steered the few sailboats they’d scavenged towards Tolfalas Island with its mountain peaks guarding the bay proudly.
They’d be safe there – away from the Uruks.
And their Father. At that thought, Halbrand clenched his fists in an attempt to control anger at that traitor.
But the Lords of the Sea wouldn’t allow them to be safe on Tolfalas Island either. On the final approach to the island, a massive wave came, crushing all but his boat into the cliffs. He thought it was likely a punishment for his relentless disobedience.
If the Valar thought that the death of his companions would stop him, they clearly hadn’t been paying attention to Dréfengást’s violent history at Morgoth’s and Mairon’s side.
So, no, that would not deter him. He’d endured far worse and was sure more horrors would come.
And he wasn’t wrong.
Days later, a dark shape slithered under their vessel, like an underwater dragon, then disappeared – just to come back in the middle of the night, wreaking havoc on them, destroying the boat and leaving only six people alive.
However, it wasn’t the sea wyrm, the tragic deaths or the hunger that accompanied the days to come that took all hope away from Halbrand. It was the realisation that he was indeed on his own, abandoned by those who should be aiding him but instead were trying to destroy him!!
He found himself drifting aimlessly on a pathetic excuse for a raft at the mercy of the sea, surrounded by people who now glared at each other distrustfully. He tried to talk himself into jumping off the raft and swimming the rest of the way, because the Valar would never allow his human companions to land in Valinor. But he wasn’t sure how far it was, and whether he had the strength to swim that far.
The surprising appearance of a woman carried helplessly by a current made Halbrand think that this was another test he was being put through, especially when he learned the survivor was an elf!
Elves meant trouble – they were like bad luck omens. Nothing good had ever come from coming across one of them!
He didn’t want anything to do with that creature. Even in her sorry state, she reeked of the righteousness and arrogance so typical of her kind, that thought of themselves as better than all other inhabitants of Middle-Earth.
He wanted to leave her there, but the return of the sea wyrm and the subsequent death of all survivors except him left him dispirited, so Halbrand gave in to whatever was coming.
The tides of fate were flowing indeed.
“I was ready to die there,” Halbrand said quietly, “I wanted to die! But that haughty, stubborn, hotheaded elf wouldn’t let me just give up”, he mirthlessly chuckled and glanced at the sleeping woman, feeling gratitude washing over him.
“You don’t seem too hostile toward her now, do you?” Isildur’s voice took him out of his reverie.
“We spent weeks on that raft, eating raw fish and drinking rainwater we managed to catch in the makeshift containers made of what was left of the sails.” This time, Halbrand’s chuckle was filled with amusement, remembering all the experiments they had to go through before constructing a receptacle suitable for water catchment.
Then he looked the younger man in the eyes with seriousness and said, “We argued, we laughed, we confided in each other, and eventually we got …close enough, for me at least, to start feeling serenity for the first time ever… and I began to hope nobody would find us.”
The men sat silent for a while. Isildur looked like he was mulling over all the new information. Halbrand preferred not to spend much time analysing his life, so he busied himself with rekindling the dying fire.
The sky was slowly turning grey, and a promise of a cloudless day arrived in delicate hues of orange and pink streaks low over the horizon.
“So…” Isildur pinched the bridge of his nose and inhaled deeply, “You’re on the run from Sauron because you stole something of his….”
“Captured, not stole”, Halbrand interrupted, feeling the need to clarify he wasn’t a common thief. Then again, the incident with the Númenórean’s smiths’ guild badge had happened, so…
“Fine – captured,” Númenórean rolled his eyes and continued, “And you tried to get your arse to the land of the gods, but instead, you got dragged back to Middle-Earth by Lady Galadriel. Would that be correct?” the man raised his brows.
“You grossly oversimplified it, but yes – that would be the gist of it.” Halbrand sent his companion a lop-sided smirk.
“And why, by Arda’s ocean, did you think you could just go to Valinor…or any of the holy places”, Isildur motioned his hand dismissively, “and get an audience with… Which Vala did you have in mind exactly?”
“All of them, I guess!” Halbrand said lightly and laughed, hoping it would distract the other man as he wasn’t ready to delve further into his nature and past. Not yet.
The young man laughed too and gave him a cheeky elbow on the side, “All right… so, going back to the King of the Southlands thing – how did you get to know the last of the royal line?”
Halbrand’s face fell, and his body tensed.
No matter what and how he’d say it, things didn’t look good for him, so he admitted, “I killed him.”
Notes:
Ulmo - Lord of Waters / King of the Sea. A Vala, Ainur. One of the mightiest of the Ainur, he was third in majesty of the Aratar, after Manwë and Varda. He live in the deeps and governes all waters, bays and rivers. He speaks through the sound of water and rarely takes a "human" form.
Ossë - a servant of Ulmo. A Maia, Ainur. Governs Inner Seas. He loves the winds and prefers the coasts and isles of Middle-earthover the deeps of his master. Can be dark and violent, presumably after his seduction by Melkor, and still enjoys raging in storms despite the will of Ulmo; only his spouse, Uinen can restrain his wild urges.
Chapter Text
The trek through the autumnal forests of Eregion proved to be a surprisingly pleasant experience. The afternoon sun peeked between trees, creating long shadows, and where it shone through the tree canopy, it formed a shimmering dappled shade on the forest floor.
Galadriel could hear a river flowing nearby as they were nearing the base of the mountain, and for the first time in a while, she relaxed a little. The rich green of the holly trees, the majestically twisted oaks and the rusty colouring of the beech trees reminded her of her few precious childhood memories of Finrod. They would run around the woods barefoot, pretend to be enemies, battle with nuts and berries as their weapons, and make their forts in the gnarly branches.
The elf smiled wistfully, touching the bark on the trees she passed by and watching Halbrand and Isildur marching ahead.
The men had been engaged in a passionate discussion since they’d started the trek at dawn, and she felt left out. It irked her that she’d been ignored for most of the day and seen only the back of them, with Halbrand only occasionally glancing back.
Why that was, she had no idea. Was he afraid of her barrage of questions? Most likely… because she had many!
She didn’t want to eavesdrop, but when she heard the word pouch and Morgoth, she started paying attention to what was being said.
“…your place, I’d probably do the same! If you hadn’t done it, you would’ve been killed,” Isildur said with conviction, marching next to Halbrand, looking up at the man and gesticulating wildly.
“Your faith in me is grossly misplaced, my friend.” Halbrand sounded much calmer, but an impatient note was creeping up in his voice.
“Given what you are? I really don’t think so….”
“Isildur!” The man seethed through his teeth and quickly glanced back at Galadriel, who immediately stepped to the side, pretending to be busy slashing the tree bark with her new dagger.
She missed the next part and wondered what trick the men used that she, with her elven senses, couldn’t hear their conversation clearly…
The elf snuck in closer and focused. She had no idea how she’d explain to them trailing less than twenty feet behind.
“…my doing, and I wasn’t forced to do anything,” Southlander explained grimly. “I had two options to choose from, and what I did was chosen by me. Purposefully. Because I knew the pouch signified the blood oath, and that meant there was the first line of defence already set up for when I needed to secure the essence…”
Blood oath? Essence? Galadriel frowned and nearly tripped on a root protruding from the ground.
“So you had the bigger picture in mind after all! I knew it!” Isildur exclaimed triumphantly and immediately got shushed by Halbrand.
“It matters not. Death is death, and I served it out willingly and mercilessly, and that’s the end!” the older man scolded the Númenórean in an angry, shushing voice.
“I don’t know…”
Halbrand threw his arms up and groaned. He stopped and leaned his back on an old beech trunk, bent down and rested his hands on his knees, letting his head hang down and inhaling deeply.
Galadriel tried to increase the distance between them unnoticed, but the man, still bent down, turned his head towards her suddenly.
He tsked and smirked, “Is eavesdropping encouraged among the fancy high elves?”
Appalled, Galadriel gaped at him while he snickered. She couldn’t fathom how he managed to draw all her awareness toward his person.
Deciding not to dignify his comments with any response, she huffed and marched past the men with her head held high. His laughter chased her down the path, making her cheeks aflame with shame but simultaneously coaxing a secret smile onto her face.
It took her a good while until she calmed her irritation enough to enjoy the sunny day again. She sat on a nearby tree stump, attempting to centre herself and to ignore Halbrand ‘s snigger as he passed her by, teasing her with, “Good girl. A true Noldor – so cold, so calm”, before going back to conversing with Isildur.
Grrrr. That annoying man already had too much of her attention, even before she’d encountered him again in Khazad-dûm. Now, he took over her thoughts and the vivid dreams she’d had… Or at least she hoped they were dreams, and Halbrand wasn’t really who he’d said he was in her night visions. That would make her guilt over bringing Sauron back unbearable!
The man himself wasn’t much help, either. At times friendly and like an open book, other times nonchalantly sarcastic and mysterious. Or hostile toward her one minute, then giving her a marvellous gift the next.
She sighed, hating the jumbled mess of thoughts in her head he caused but also feeling relieved she had a little time to herself, away from the intensity of the past weeks… or months.
As if Halbrand had heard her, he turned and smiled. That kind, mischievous smile reminded her of Númenor when he’d handed her Finrod’s dagger after saying she could use some peace too.
Perhaps he’s not wrong, Galadriel’s thought was met with another smile. Who are you?
They joined the highroad running along the river just as the sun hid behind the tree line. Galadriel figured they would join her kin in Ost-in-Edhil by sunrise if they kept walking and stopped only for a couple of hours-long rest.
She needed Elrond’s counsel as she wasn’t sure what her next steps should be. Halbrand’s reappearance had temporarily halted her plans to mobilise all allies they could convince to join them for the dark times ahead. But she couldn’t just let him go, not until she learned whether he was a danger to them all. And given his unwillingness to divulge any information about himself, she was sure there was more to Halbrand than merely being the man whose identity was stolen by Sauron.
“Do you think Morinehtar will join us soon?” Isildur’s voice took Galadriel out of her reverie. He stopped and looked back to where they’d come from like he expected to see the old wizard trailing behind them.
She was beginning to like the Númenórean and wanted to protect him, even if only to repay some of her debt to Elendil. She also sensed Isildur was destined for great things and wanted to aid the young man as much as possible.
The elf didn’t know how that would play out, considering the prophecy of a great wave that she’d seen in Queen Miriel’s crystal ball, but something was telling her Isildur’s place was by his queen and his father in Númenor right now, not across the sea.
Galadriel knew whom she needed to talk to but resented that idea. She didn’t want to owe him any favours, but Halbrand’s silver tongue and the admiration Isildur had for him made it evident that he was the person she should turn to for help.
She gritted her teeth and groaned internally, stomping angrily towards a fallen tree at the river shore. She took her new dagger out of its sheath and gave the tree bark a few stabs but eventually sat down and sighed, feeling silly for acting so childishly… over her thoughts!
She studied the beautifully weird weapon in her hand. It was exquisite craftsmanship, just like the armour Halbrand had gifted her in Númenor. Her fingers traced the hilt, admiring the intricate braid-shaped engravings covered with a thin layer of resin.
Then, an uncanny detail caught her attention, and she frowned when she noticed several strands on the braid were real silver-blond hairs… just like hers!
Shocked, she snapped her head toward Halbrand.
He stood next to Isildur and gave him a friendly pat on his shoulder, saying with confidence, “He’ll join us as soon as he’s ready. I’m sure of it, Isildur.”
Then he scratched his scruffy beard and scrunched his nose, adding, “If he manages to pacify the balrog, that is.”
“That was a balrog?!” The Númenórean’s eyes were huge with amazement.
“Yup”, Halbrand sniffed, casually adjusting his belts.
Of course, it was a balrog, the elf internally rolled her eyes. She wished she could share the amazement but felt her capacity for astonishment depleted after the past few days’ events.
Halbrand said something quietly to Isildur, slapped the younger man on the back, and watched him disappear into the forest.
“Are you ready to continue, my lady?” Halbrand said playfully, then turned and walked towards her. When he was a few metres away, he noticed the dagger in her hand and became serious.
He stopped in front of her, so close that their boots’ tips very nearly touched, and gazed down at her, murmuring, “That wasn’t how I wanted to give it to you…”
“Another present for me, my lord?” she asked sarcastically, looking up and raising her eyebrow at him, trying to mask his closeness's effect on her.
She didn’t want to admit that she loved the armour he’d made for her and that she’d kept the chest plate as it was almost as personal and precious as Finrod’s blade.
And now, just as her brother’s dagger was gone, Halbrand had gifted her a new one. How odd.
“I realise it may be redundant,” he shrugged, “But I still want you to have it.”
“And when did you have a chance to steal my hair, if I may ask?” she narrowed her eyes at him, deciding not to tell him about her brother’s weapon’s fate.
“When you were asleep on Captain Elendil’s ship after they had rescued us.” He took the tiny fabric parcel given by the Mage out of his belt pouch and unwrapped it. Inside, neatly tied, there were several strands of her hair, “I collected them… for sentimental reasons… and for good luck, I guess.” He sent her a lop-sided apologetic smile.
Her heart lurched at the memory of all the things that were said and done during their time at sea. Everything had seemed less complicated back then, including this man. She wished she was back on that rickety raft with Halbrand of the Southlands, who listened to her, confronted her and made her face her shadows… who comforted her in so many ways.
“Galadriel…” he said softly and sat close beside her, straddling the tree trunk.
When she, too overcome by emotions, didn’t react, he gently took her chin between his fingers and turned it towards him. She grabbed his hand with the intention of pushing it away, but instead, she pressed it against her face and nuzzled into it.
Galadriel gazed into his eyes and watched the dark spots submerged in the amber rings surrounding his pupils dance in the last sun rays of the day. His eyes were as layered as the man, and the warmth in them made her wonder whether she hadn’t made a mistake by forcing them both out of Númenor.
“I’m so tired of trying to decide whether I can trust you or not,” she whispered angrily and closed her eyes, her cheek still nested in the palm of his hand, “And I’m tired of how much I want you to be who you say you are.”
“I am, Galadriel. I swear I am”, his voice broke a little. She didn’t even have to open her eyes to know his eyes were opened wide, pleading, and his forehead was marred with wrinkles.
Halbrand’s loud gulp and the following words made her tense and nervous, “And just because I am more than simply Halbrand of the Southlands, it doesn’t mean I’m not the Halbrand you met at sea.”
The elf opened her eyes and looked at the man, letting go of his hand.
What was she searching for in those green eyes? Deception? No. She knew by now he was not a deceiver, that he was no Sauron.
That man she’d brought to Eregion felt different. His misleadingly kind and gentle façade that charmed lord Celebrimbor hid something icy behind. He was too eager to serve and too submissive to those he didn’t know. He’d felt wrong.
The real Halbrand was a charming smart-arse and a crowd-pleaser, but there was nothing subservient about it. The seemingly perfect image of a true diplomat was marred by the violent streak in his character that he didn’t even try to hide and the terrifyingly cold sense of self-preservation characteristic of someone who’d done much surviving.
This man sitting a foot away from her felt like the man she’d known before Eregion. It was her Halbrand.
“Will you ever tell me who you are? Or will I always have to wonder?” she stared at him unmovingly.
Halbrand took a deep breath and looked away, biting his lip. Even in the dying light of day, Galadriel could see the uncertainty on his face.
Dejected, she sighed heavily, leaned into him, and rested her cheek on his chest. The steady thud of his heart and the warmth of his arms that gently embraced her brought her comforting serenity. She felt the faintest of smiles tugging at the corner of her lips.
And she waited.
After a long while, he spoke in a calm, quiet voice.
“My first name was given to me by the Light. Dréfengást. Means Hunter Spirit in the first tongue.”
Under her cheek, Galadriel could hear his heart picking up speed, just like hers did. She didn’t move, afraid to disrupt Halbrand in any way.
“Feorhweard [1] - Soul Guardian, was given to me by the Shadow when I failed… when I fell…” His quiet voice trailed off, leaving them a moment or two to ponder on the meaning of this.
“I gave myself the name Halbrand as a reminder I was a mere tool. It means Secret Sword. Like a secret weapon that would bring the Dark Lord down,” he snorted derisively, “What a self-important, pretentious fool I was….”
Galadriel didn’t register anything past Halbrand’s scoff. The overwhelming ringing in her ears immobilised her completely, and she didn’t dare breathe, afraid the words she’d just heard would evaporate from her brain with each inhale and exhale.
Maia.
Halbrand was a Maia.
Somehow it was less earth shattering to learn than it should be. Somehow, since the first moment they’d met, since Halbrand hadn’t let her onto the raft, she’d felt something more about him but assumed it was her personal feelings getting in the way and, later, that it was because he was Sauron.
That’s why she wasn’t shocked hearing his voice speaking so intimately in her mind. That’s why she didn’t inquire about him needing mithril to heal, assuming it had been only the old Mage’s caprice. That’s why she hadn’t examined last night’s dream…
Because deep down, she sensed the truth but was too blinded by her own pursuits to notice and put the puzzle pieces together.
And now, finally, Galadriel had the first vital piece to solving the mystery, and she felt elated… But it was only the first piece at the same time, and many more were to come…
She sat straight and turned to him, bending one leg over the trunk. She needed to understand all of him, and even though it was a good start, her needy desire to know every shadowy corner of the fortress that Halbrand was, drove her crazy.
The man had to know it too. He looked like he wanted to give her all that she desired… yet, he still hesitated. The elf tried to hold his gaze on her, but he only pressed his lips into a thin pale line and looked away, moving his jaws as if he were mulling over the words.
Galadriel forcefully grabbed his face in her hands and turned it to her, making him look at her.
“That’s not enough… Maia”, she growled, holding his face in a vice grip with her hands clutching onto his big ears.
“I know”, he breathed out, his eyes wide and honest.
Those two simple words and the helplessness in them unravelled something in her, and she pulled his face so close their noses touched and whispered viciously, “Not enough.”
The last word got smothered by her lips clumsily crushing into his, demanding his response.
And a response Halbrand gave – but not the one she wanted.
He pulled away and stared at her, assessing, for one too many breaths. The only sign that her pathetic attempt at the kiss affected him was his laboured breath and the dangerous feverish glow in his eyes.
Galadriel felt humiliation creeping up her face rapidly. She let go of his head like it burned her and jumped to her feet, wanting to escape the intense amber in his eyes.
The man grabbed her by the scabbard on her belt the moment she was up and dragged her toward him, dismounting the tree and standing up, mercilessly glaring at her.
Now, locked in his steely embrace, mortified, she could only stare into his unwavering eyes, holding her breath, waiting.
And when he spoke, his voice matched his suddenly changed demeanour. It was like a guttural growl dripping with syrupy, sticky darkness that ran through Galadriel’s body, gathering and vibrating in her very core.
“I just told you something I haven’t told anyone on this side of the Seas before….”
Halbrand tsked and pulled her against him so tightly she could feel his belts’ cold buckles pressing into her stomach. “…and this is the reaction I get?”
The fingers of his one hand stayed hooked on her belt as his thumb drew little circles on her belly through the fabric of her tunic while the other hand snuck behind her and slowly traced up each of her spine’s vertebrae, making her gasp.
When he reached the nape of her neck, grabbed her hair and pulled it down, forcing her face to turn upwards while bending slightly over so their noses touched.
And suddenly, he grinned brightly at her, like he’d used to so often in Númenor, with the crow's feet radiating from his smiling eyes and the blue outer ring of his irises lighting up.
“I missed you, my little elf,” he chuckled and placed a warm, sound kiss on her upper lip, “And I miss us”, he whispered and gently bit the bottom lip, making a breathy moan escape her.
He groaned, and his hand holding onto her belt tightened, just to let go of it entirely and wrap her in a firm, sweet embrace, with her head tucked under his chin. He rested his head on the top of hers, humming contently.
Galadriel, securely pressed against his chest, couldn’t help but smile, feeling the pleasant warmth spreading throughout her body.
The memories of similarly wholesome moments started flooding her mind. And along with them, the dark and lusty recollections hit her too – those born out of their desperation to survive the sea’s moods and the need to reaffirm to each other they’d been still alive.
She had to force herself to keep them at bay. It wasn’t the time or place.
“You still owe me your story, Maia”, she murmured into his chest, nuzzling the patch of skin where his kaftan’s opening failed to contain the chest hair. He inhaled sharply at her ministrations.
“I do.” She felt a quick peck on her hair before he let go of her and smiled briefly, “Luckily, we have quite a few hours of a walk ahead of us…” he got serious, “…I just hope you’ll find mercy in you to bear my presence once I’m done, love.”
Chapter Text
“Halbrand!!” a panicked voice roused Halbrand from the mental fog caused by the unbearable pain. He opened his groggy eyes, raised his hand to his shoulder, and felt the arrow protruding from his body.
“Halbrand, wake up!”
He tried to turn his head, fighting the rising bile, but a heavy boot quickly stomped mercilessly on his temple, allowing him only a glimpse of what was happening.
Galadriel was kneeling nearby, reaching out to him. Her beautiful face was marred with fear as she was gripped by someone whose face he couldn’t see. Isildur was lying beside her, motionless, face down on the leaves covering the forest floor.
“Isildur…” Halbrand rasped out, feeling something warm flooding his eyes, but a quick blow snatched his consciousness away.
“You need to let him go!” The demanding, haughty notes in Galadriel’s distant voice made Halbrand smile and he opened his eyes, which he immediately regretted as a sharp pain shot through his skull, sobering him instantly.
He slowly sat up on a stone slab, holding onto his shoulder. The arrow had been removed and there was a bandage wrapping it.
He looked around, noting that the cell he occupied was made of ornate iron bars, almost like they weren’t there to oppress the current occupant. He felt like an animal put in a cage in the centre of the round room for everyone to gape at. The only way out was through an open skylight up high, beyond his reach.
Halbrand jumped to his feet, only now noticing that his wrists were bound by a chain as intricately designed as the cell bars. He pulled sharply, pointlessly, on the chain as it wasn’t restricting his movement around the cell due to its generous length. Was he a prisoner? He definitely wasn’t a guest!
He walked to the bars and looked at the cells running around the room. Relief washed over him when, in one of them, he saw a few figures bending down over an unconscious Isildur, applying some putty-looking substance onto his head. The Númenorean was alive and was being given medical care; he would be fine.
“Lord Halbrand!” a pleasant male voice made Halbrand whirl around to face his host.
The too-fast motion made him dizzy and caused everything in his stomach to churn and rise in his throat. At the last moment, he found a bucket by his stone bed into which he vomited violently, then laid down on his back, exhausted, and covered his eyes with his arm, trying to ignore the loud ringing in his ears.
He heard the footsteps nearing, yet he was startled when the voice sounded close, “How are you feeling, my boy?”
“Better than you probably wish….” Halbrand lifted his arm just enough to assess whom he was talking to, “…Elf.”
The man's kind face could mislead anyone, but the sickly shine in his eyes made Halbrand suspicious of the state of the man’s mind, and his following words proved it.
“Did you come back to steal my creation, hm?” he hissed.
“What are you talking about?” The pain made Halbrand irritable and impatient. He covered his face again, trying to hide from the merciless light beaming from above.
“You won’t fool me again!” The elf’s angry outburst was accompanied by a clanking of a chain, and suddenly, Halbrand was dragged by his wrists out of bed. He fell on the ground, hitting his head on the stone edge, then was dragged across the floor before he could get up.
Through the pain in the shoulder and pulsating pain in his temple, he heard a familiar male voice saying, “Master Celebrimbor, there’s no need for this!” before everything went black.
Days passed. Halbrand calculated it had been four days as the elven maids had tended to Isildur twice a day, and they had shown up eight times in total before releasing the young man this morning without even letting the men talk. A simple hand wave and the sympathetic look on Isildur's face had to do.
Halbrand’s wounds were healing fast, and he felt stronger and more present, despite the never-ending interrogation occasionally interrupted with outbursts of anger resulting in being dragged around the cell by his chained wrists, making him smack into anything in the way. It was amusing to watch the Elves trying to make a point that a good old-fashioned beating was beneath their exalted race.
What was Lord Celebrimbor searching for? That wasn’t clear. Day by day, the elf kept going on about some rings Halbrand had never heard of.
Not once was Halbrand asked about his murky past or his connections to Morgoth. It was all about the rings and Sauron’s lair. Trying to convince his stubborn hosts of his truthfulness was exhausting, especially when nobody was willing to believe him.
Halbrand had nothing to hide and answered every question truthfully, but when asked again about the same thing for the hundredth time, he lost his patience.
He was tired, bruised, and filthy; all he wanted was to sleep.
“By Nienna’s tears, what do you want me to say, Elf?! Tell me, and I’ll say it! How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t know Sauron’s location or plans, and that I don’t know anything about your precious rings?!” he roared at Celebrimbor, not caring that High King Gil-Galad was closely watching him.
Not the best day to get acquainted, Halbrand thought sourly, regretting his outburst in front of the King on the day he’d decided to join them for the first time.
Celebrimbor nodded at a guard, who jerked the chain sharply, giving Halbrand only a moment to react.
He grabbed the chain and yanked it so hard the guard was thrown into the air and hit the bars with a loud clang of his helmet smashing against the iron bars and crumpling on the floor, unconscious.
A haggard and enraged Halbrand, standing in the centre of his cell, wrapped the chain around his hands, ready to repeat his tactic with whoever would try to treat him like a wild animal.
He’d played nice up until now and was getting sick of the treatment he was receiving. Halbrand knew he could easily overpower every one of his captors, but he restrained himself as he felt this wasn’t the right way to reveal his true identity.
“You don’t get to ask any questions, my boy!” Lord Celebrimbor, equally furious, stalked around the cell, standing beside Gil-galad, “I’ll teach you how to behave in the presence of the King!”
Halbrand let out a raspy sneer and walked close to the bars, staring at the King, “Should I grovel in front of you, Elf?” he sniffed, “Should I be honoured that the mighty Ñoldorin King allowed a low man like myself to lay his eyes upon you?”
Gil-galad clasped his hands in front of him and watched him for a long time. His face was expressionless, except for the glint in his eyes.
Eventually, Gil-Galad huffed and mockingly bowed his head, “That won’t be necessary, Lord Halbrand.”
He approached the cell, stopping less than a foot away from the bars, and hummed as they looked into each other’s eyes, “Who are you, really?” he asked quietly, narrowing his eyes.
Halbrand only scoffed and took a step back, his eyes never leaving the elven king. It wasn’t the right time or place to have this conversation.
Gil-galad nodded slowly and turned away from the cell. Before leaving, he said something quietly to Celebrimbor and, without looking back, climbed the stone stairs leading to an ornate iron door – the only exit from the prison, as Halbrand had learned.
The night came, and with it, rain. There was no escaping – Halbrand’s confinement was under the open skylight. Still, it was the first night he wasn’t being bothered by his overdramatic host.
Better getting soaked than being tossed around, the man sighed, sitting on his stone bed with his back resting against the bars and gently examining various cuts and bruises on his body.
He wondered about Galadriel’s whereabouts. She indeed could have explained everything and helped to free him!
Eventually, not finding any logical reason for being still imprisoned, he curled up for warmth and succumbed to his exhaustion, not minding the relentless pitter-patter of the raindrops on his skin.
With the first light of the day, his new routine was resumed.
He was given food that looked like somebody had tried hard to make it look unappetising but failed miserably. The food was the best food he’d ever had, outside of Valinor – sweet juicy fruit, tangy cheese and crusty bread, and an aromatic herbal tea so intense, it woke him instantly.
After the unintentionally delicious breakfast, there was time for his ablutions, which consisted of him splashing some water on his face and chewing on some mint leaves while watching master Celebrimbor getting comfortable in his throne-like chair.
The Elf looked at him and said suspiciously kindly, “So, today is the last day and the last chance for you to tell us where you hid the rings, my boy.”
“Last day? Oh no…” Halbrand feigned sadness to annoy Celebrimbor. “And I’ve had such a great time here with you,” he spat the leaves into his trusty bucket.
He stood up, trying to ignore the uncomfortable dampness of his clothes. It reminded him of the time he’d spent on that raft in the middle of the ocean, with the ever-present moisture and salt crusting in every crease of his destroyed clothing.
Before the master smith could scold him, the iron door smacked open, hitting the walls with a loud thud, making the Elf jump to his feet and the guards point their spears at the intruder.
Halbrand couldn’t help but grin widely at the dumbfounded expression on Lord Celebrimbor’s face as he watched Galadriel, flanked by Elrond and Morinehtar, storm into the prison block.
“Lady Galadriel”, the elven smith stuttered, his smile shaky and hands fidgety, “What a surprise!”
“I’m sure it is, master Celebrimbor,” Galadriel said coldly, “Especially as I should be on my way to Lothlórien… as per your order”, she said through her teeth.
“Well… I was merely trying to save you the humiliation of being deceived by our dear King of the Southlands here… again.” the man said placatingly.
Halbrand felt giddy, seeing Galadriel’s reaction that he knew so well from all the times he’d said something that appalled and enraged her.
“Do not patronise me, my lord!” She dashed toward the man, and out of nowhere, her dagger was in her hand and pressed against Celebrimbor’s throat, “Let him go now!” she hissed and pushed the blade a little harder as a warning for the guards who were slowly inching towards her. She smirked when they froze, startled, and then glared at Lord Celebrimbor who gulped audibly.
“Galadriel!” Elrond sounded shocked and quickly grabbed her hand and pulled it away. Celebrimbor fell back onto his chair, breathing heavily, and stared at the woman in bewilderment.
Halbrand felt positively delighted with the spectacle. He stood as close as the bars would allow him, rested his arms above his head, and pressed his forehead against a crossbar.
“Halbrand!” Elrond turned to him, pausing to scan his pathetic state, “Do something!”
“What can I do?” he waved a hand, rattling the chain and beaming at the Elf.
Elrond came very close and whispered, “This man rules this city, and any threats to his life will result in Galadriel’s banishment!” He stepped away quickly, wrinkling his nose like he smelled something vile. Ah, that would be me, Halbrand realised.
“And…?” Halbrand asked playfully but seeing the stern look on Elrond’s face, he sighed and rolled his eyes, “Fine.”
“Galadriel”, he used the mental connection he and the elf had to have private conversations, “Be a good girl and apologise to Lord Angry-Pants, will you?”
“I’m not a good girl!” he could imagine if this had been a regular conversation, she’d have hissed at him with her face adorably scrunched up.
“Oh, I know very well you’re not a good girl. He had to chuckle out loud when she stared daggers at him, big red splotches of blush adorning her cheeks.
“Halbrand…” Elrond warned him. Halbrand groaned.
“Lady Galadriel, my lady,” he implored in her mind, “Please, think about it. You don’t want to get barred from ever coming back here, do you? You don’t need enemies amongst your people!”
Her expression changed to a pensive frown, and he continued, “I know something about it. I made enemies of my folk, and look where it got me!”
For a few moments, she just looked at him, then nodded.
“Apologies, master Celebrimbor. My behaviour was unacceptable”, she gritted out and pursed her lips, clearly not feeling sorry. She turned away and looked at Halbrand again.
“You look awful,” Galadriel stated and left. Elrond threw Halbrand a grateful look and followed his friend.
Halbrand glanced at Morinehtar, who’d been silent the whole time, resting against a wall and watching him with a sardonic smile.
He wondered what was brewing in his weird mind, but quickly snapped out of it when Lord Celebrimbor hastily got up and left with his head high, his guards and Morinehtar trailing after him.
"What are you doing here?" confused Halbrand asked the wizard, who stopped on the top step. "We agreed to meet in Lindon, didn't we?"
"I'm here with a rescue mission... to save your sorry hide," the wizard whispered theatrically and winked.
"You're doing a great job, old man," Halbrand deadpanned and raised his chain, clanking it to make his point.
Morinehtar just laughed and closed the door behind him.
For the rest of the day, Halbrand was left alone.
“Where are we going, old man?” Halbrand grumbled, trying to catch with Morinehtar. He was now free of his chains but limping, his ankle twisted in one of the many times that he had been yanked across his cage.
They were strolling through a dimly-lit gallery surrounding a picturesque courtyard, with lush vegetation growing around a circular pool in the centre. He might have enjoyed the ethereal moonlight illuminating the space, and the warm glow of the lanterns adorning each column and the pool ledge, if he didn’t feel filthy and aching all over.
“Right here,” the wizard walked into the courtyard and explained, “You’re going to stand before the High King at dawn, so we need to make you look presentable,” he sniffed and wrinkled his nose, "...or at least less smelly."
Halbrand glimpsed a large mirror on a wall as he entered the area and nearly gasped, seeing his face covered in cuts and bruises.
No wonder Galadriel didn’t visit in prison, he mocked himself internally.
“Don’t be vain, Dréfengást,” Morinehtar sniggered.
“Don’t eavesdrop,” Halbrand mumbled under his breath and started taking off his filthy, torn clothes marked with blood and vomit.
By Oromë’s horn, how long had he been locked up?! Had it really been only four days?
As quickly as his sore body allowed him, he removed his remaining clothing and stepped into the warm water, hissing at the stinging in his wounds, and submerged completely to get rid of the blood and grime from his face and hair.
When he reemerged, the wizard handed him pleasantly-fragranced soaps and potions. It had been over a thousand years since he had been treated to such luxuries!
“Galadriel was kept away from you because they were convinced that you had tricked her again,” the older man said, not unkindly. He added, “If we had shown up any later, you could’ve been dead by the hand of the great master Celebrimbor, no less!”
Halbrand paused with his hands in his soap-covered hair and frowned, “Why would that Elf want to kill me?”
He was considered an enemy of Eregion since Sauron had taken his form to deceive the habitants of Ost-in-Edhil, but it was so unlike the supercilious elves to kill a captured enemy.
“As it turns out, Sauron worked in the forge on more than Lord Celebrimbor initially had let everybody know.” The wizard got up, walked to a table full of food, and started loading two plates with delicacies as he continued, “It wasn’t only the three Elvish Rings of Power that were created here. That trickster convinced the mighty smith to make nine more rings… which he stole upon his sudden disappearance.”
“Nine?” Halbrand frowned. What would the Dark Lord want with so many rings?
That prompted his memory of the hilt and how it’d been infused with magic - whoever had touched it would have become a slave to Sauron’s whispers.
But that was one object, not nine. For nine rings to work the way they had been designed, there would have to be a master ring, controlling them and bending their wearers to the will of the master. And to control such immense power, the ring had to be forged in the one place capable of curbing the dark magic…
“Am I still a prisoner of this place?” Halbrand asked lightly, changing the subject, not wanting to share his suspicions just yet.
“Yes and no.”
Halbrand gave the man a deadly stare and said, “You do not impress me with your cryptic nonsense.”
Morinehtar rolled his eyes and carelessly put the plates on the tiles surrounding the pool, gathered his robes and sat down, “You can move freely around this area of the city, but you’re not allowed to venture outside unguarded until the High King permits you to do so.”
“So I’m in this charming Elvish city full of talented smiths, and I’m not allowed to explore it? Seems like a waste.”
“Must I remind you that until today, you weren’t even welcome here?” the Wizard said lazily, “You’re still suspected of being the Dark Lord’s pawn, even if Lady Galadriel vouches for you.”
“Why Sauron’s pawn, and not Sauron?” Halbrand asked, surprised, scrubbing his torso clean.
“Looks like your Elf kept secrets from her kin, and forgot to mention who they had been hosting here. Otherwise, you’d surely be dead by now,” the old man smirked and bit into a drumstick of juicy meat, humming with pleasure.
Halbrand grinned, content with having Galadriel called his elf, and dived under the water’s surface to remove the suds.
He needed to find a way to spend more time with her. She still had many questions, even after all that he had told her about his past with Morgoth and Sauron.
He didn’t know how much more time they had, but once he got to Valinor, his fate would be out of his hands, and it wasn’t at all certain whether he’d ever see Galadriel again. And his going to Valinor had to happen sooner rather than later, as he couldn’t live in this limbo forever.
For now, he’d go with whatever felt right. And floating lazily in the pool, with his arms spread wide, seemed right. His aching muscles were slowly beginning to feel better.
He’d already spent too much time being unconscious, wounded, or imprisoned. Most of it had happened because of the elves, and when they learned about his true nature and past connections, if they hadn’t already done so, his chances of getting out of this alive might drastically diminish.
He had to get out of this beautiful prison, explore the city, and study all possible escape routes.
“Morinehtar, do you know if Lady Galadriel will join us?” Halbrand carefully stepped out of the pool and stood in front of the mirror again to get a good look at himself for the first time in over a millennium.
When he had run from Sauron, he had had to change his form. His new physical manifestation was an exact copy of the first human he’d befriended after arriving in Middle-earth with his mission from the Valar – his mission to capture Sauron, which he had betrayed when he had been drawn to the side of Morgoth and Sauron instead.
Everything – from the messy brown hair, deep-set eyes, the curve of his lips, big ears, his long body’s musculature, and even his moles, were a faithful copy of the features of his long-gone friend. The only difference was the eye colour; it remained that of Dréfengást – green on the outside, amber around the pupils – a colour palette of the Valinorean forests where he’d used to hunt with Oromë the Huntsman and his hounds.
Halbrand sighed and stepped away from the mirror, not wanting to be reminded of the past that would make his resentment toward the Elves resurface – not here, in the Elven realm.
Naked, he sat on the pool’s edge, leaning back on his arms, gripping the ledge behind him, and looked up at the moon.
“Is this rather… picturesque pose how you’d like the Fair Lady to find you?” Morinehtar chuckled, preparing to leave.
Halbrand looked down his body, seeing nothing he could remotely be ashamed of or embarrassed for, shrugged, and said smugly, “It’s not like she hasn’t seen it all already.”
A loud gasp came from the gallery above the courtyard, and he smiled like a predator who’d just sniffed his prey out.
The wizard glanced towards the sound and sighed, shaking his head, then threw Halbrand a disapproving look as he left the courtyard, quietly chuckling.
Before he disappeared behind a door they’d come through before, Halbrand casually tossed out the sentence, ”By the way, I know where Sauron is headed.”
Chapter 9
Summary:
The rating changed because it's a Friday the 13th SMUT time! 🥳
If you don't want to read smut, stop reading after the first POV (Galadriel's) and come back for chapter10
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The moment Galadriel heard the door shut behind the wizard on the floor below, she rushed towards a staircase, the shimmering silver fabric of her high-waisted dress flowing behind her.
The shame of having Elrond witness Halbrand’s flippant comment about their intimacy and the shock of learning about Halbrand possibly knowing where Sauron was going were churning inside her, and she took off, ignoring her friend's dumbfounded expression.
She reached the stairs when she heard Elrond’s steps behind her.
“Galadriel, what was that all about!?” He sounded curious.
“That’s not important now, Elrond. He knows where Sauron is!” She exclaimed, rushing down the stairs without looking back.
“Stop this madness for a moment!” he shouted, and the exasperation in his voice made her stop and turn around.
“What madness, Elrond?” She knew what he meant but refused to acknowledge it, “Sauron is out there!”
“I’m not interested in talking about Sauron, and you know it!” His usually kind face bore signs of anger and impatience now.
“I know!!” She shouted, her voice breaking.
Galadriel was perfectly aware that the reason she’d acted so erratically was currently enjoying his bathtime. But she also knew that if she analysed her feelings too closely, the conclusion would petrify her. So instead, she’d focus on her millennia-long quest, hoping whatever it was that she felt would crumble and dissipate with time.
She looked at Elrond, silently pleading with him not to go there, but he didn’t seem to be in a generous mood. He folded his arms on his chest and silently watched her, waiting. Knowing him, he could stay like that until the morning came, or she’d finally break her silence.
Elrond deserved the truth, and it was time to make his unconditional trust in her pay off, so she sighed heavily and sat down on a step, resting against the railing. When Elrond sat down on a step above, her head found his knee and rested on it.
“I’m scared, and I feel helpless against the feelings I didn’t know I was capable of,” Galadriel whispered, playing with the tip of her loose braid, then pulled at it angrily, hissing, “I don’t want them!”
Elrond’s demeanour changed, and the previous angry expression was replaced with tenderness and understanding. He leaned over, took her face into his hand, and looked deep into her eyes, saying quietly, “But it may be exactly what you need.”
“But…” she paused and gulped loudly, realising that the fear she felt had a lot to do with where this conversation would take them, “…how is it even possible? What about Celeborn?”
“What about Celeborn?” Elrond furrowed his brow. “A bit late for taking your over-a-thousand-years-missing husband’s feelings into account since the two of you …” he nodded in the direction of the courtyard where the sound of splashing water reminded her of Halbrand’s nakedness, “…have already mated, don’t you think?” He looked at her with an amused twinkle, and she felt the dreaded heat rising from her chest to her face.
Her weak “It’s not what you think” was met with a burst of laughter.
“My dear Galadriel, I’m not judging you in any way,” he said kindly when he calmed down. “Our Halbrand here is a fine specimen after all,” he winked at her, making her blush intensify.
Galadriel had never loved her friend as much as she did now. She indeed didn’t feel judged or condemned. Maybe he’d despise me if he found out I haven’t even thought about Celeborn since I met Halbrand; she flogged herself mentally and, in passing, recalled the chat she had with Theo in the forest.
“I want you to be happy, my friend.” Elrond kissed her forehead and rested his chin on her head, sighing. Her gratitude was so great that she couldn’t stop the tears from flooding her eyes and spilling over onto her still-hot cheeks.
It took her a while to pull herself together enough to talk.
“I’m terrified of all the ways he has power over me, my thoughts, my feelings, even my dreams,” Galadriel whispered, afraid these words could turn into a magic spell, and saying them out loud would make things much worse than they already were.
She sighed, “So I’d rather ignore it, make myself busy elsewhere, and hope it’ll go away,” she finished with a pitiful sniffle, looking into the distance.
“That fear won’t go away unless you face it and take control,” he said kindly.
Control. What a loaded word, especially when it came to Halbrand, who seemed to revel in having complete control at all times. That’s why he terrified her – she wasn’t immune to his charm and moods. She didn’t know what to expect. When he was about to say or do something mortifying for her, her only warning was a gleeful spark in his eyes, giving her little to no time to react.
But Elrond was right. She should fight back and free herself of that fear, have her revenge for all the humiliation!
Take control; Galadriel sat up straight and sneered. I’ll show him control.
“And remember,” Elrond covered her hand resting on his knee with his, “It’s better to be happy for a short while than not at all… So don’t be afraid only because he’s a mortal,” he squeezed her fingers gently.
“Oh, but he’s not,” Galadriel said absent-mindedly, wondering whether her wild thought about how she could take some of the power Halbrand had over her could actually turn into a good plan that could work.
“He’s not what?” her friend raised his brows, confused.
“Oh... he’s not mortal.” She threw casually, getting up. She knew that what she was about to do was insane and bold, so she ran downstairs before losing her courage.
“What do you mean?...” she heard Elrond calling after her. Luckily, he didn’t follow.
“You’ll find out tomorrow!” Galadriel called back and closed the door behind her.
She took a deep, calming breath, smoothed her dress, and followed the gallery into the courtyard.
Halbrand found himself floating peacefully in the milky water glistening in the moonlight. It had been long, even in his immortal mind, since he had been allowed to… simply be.
He was fully aware of what would happen in the morning but decided it would be pointless to worry about that now. Tomorrow, he’d know whether he would be leaving this place as a friend or a foe of the Elves.
Thus he stayed in the warm water and let his thoughts flow freely – from the great Woods of Oromë - his favourite place in the whole Arda, to the gallery above, where the haughty elven princess was currently seething.
He didn’t know why he loved eliciting such reactions from the Elf so much – maybe it was a form of a payback for turning him into a waffling fool any time she laid her eyes on him.
I’ve spent too much time with Men. His behaviour of an infatuated teenage Human was unfitting the supposedly higher form of beings Maiar were thought to be.
Halbrand didn’t expect to see Galadriel until the meeting with the King. He was sure she’d be too mad at his little stunt to show up here, and most likely, she would sulk in her chambers, plotting his demise.
But, since his expectations rarely met reality, he heard her approaching steps in the quiet of the night accompanied only by distant sounds of nature’s nightlife.
Halbrand knew it was Galadriel – he could sense that feisty thing even in his sleep!
What Halbrand didn’t know was why she was coming here… and that made him curious and a little nervous.
Galadriel sauntered into the courtyard and stopped by the buffet to watch him wordlessly. The lanterns illuminated her from behind and accentuated her figure hidden underneath the shimmering dress. The cool light of the moon and the warm glow of the lamps fought for the privilege of caressing her milky skin. He envied the light.
Halbrand stopped breathing for a few moments, gaping at her, his eyes devouring every curve of the body emphasised by the light. He was endlessly grateful for the opaque water covering him below his hips as he stood in the centre of the pool, paralysed like prey entranced by its hunter. And weirdly, he felt like said prey too.
Galadriel wasn’t being coquettish, yet there was something incredibly seducing in the way she watched him. The intensity of her gaze made him want to squirm in anticipation, making his body awake in a stupefyingly rapid manner - blood violently rushed to his groin, making him shudder with need.
That woman could order him to throw himself into the Void, and he would do it without hesitation. The power she had over him - not only in the moments of this intoxicating arousal but every time she looked at him or spoke his name - terrified him more than a thought of becoming forever formless.
He needed to take control back.
So, despite being shaken and painfully aroused, Halbrand moved to the pool's edge, as far from her as possible, and sat on the underwater step, bending his knees. He lazily spread his arms on the ledge behind and pierced Galadriel with his eyes.
The Galadriel he knew would blush with anger and admonish him or run away… but this Galadriel didn’t do any of those things - she just stared back with a tiny smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.
You little tease; He narrowed his eyes and tilted his head back, eyeing her hungrily.
“Why are you here, elf?” Halbrand purred and, finally, heard Galadriel’s breath hitch, but then she only sent him that almost-smile of hers. He swallowed. Hard.
He needed to make her stoic façade crumble and let his feral girl out!
Galadriel started slowly circling the pool, touching the leaves of the plants as she moved past them, her fingers tracing every lamp, bottle, and jar atop the pool surround. And still, not one word came out of her mouth.
Halbrand didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of seeing his flushed face, so when she got close to him, he refused even to glimpse her and stared ahead, trying to centre his quickly falling-apart self.
And that was a mistake.
Her fingers reached his arms and traced them from his hand up to his neck and back down his other hand, leaving his skin prickling in their wake. Startled by the touch, he let out an involuntary groan, his head dropped down, and his hands grappled the pool’s edge like his life depended on it.
That little vixen didn’t even pause and continued her stroll around.
When the elf walked the entire perimeter, she climbed atop the pool surround, then stepped down into the water, and slowly moved to the centre, her eyes never leaving him. Her dress floated around her waist, making her look like a water lily flower trapped in a moonbeam. She was ethereal.
Halbrand’s resolution to control the situation vanished in accompaniment of his heart’s thud.
Her fingertips caressed the sparkly surface the same way he remembered they had tickled his skin when they had traced the map of the moles and marks on his body.
He was mesmerised by the spectacle, desperately needing those sweet elven hands on him, although he knew that one touch would probably end him.
“Halbrand,” she cooed, her eyes following her fingers’ movement.
Halbrand’s hips jerked when the ravishing heat spread throughout his groin, making the desire to pull her close and sink deep into her just to hear her gasp his name over and over overwhelming.
Galadriel looked up, and the glimmer in her eyes made her delight so obvious he nearly exploded. She knew exactly what she was doing! Witch!
“Come here, elf!” He growled and shivered all over, seeing her following his order obediently and stopping between his knees, inches away from…
Suddenly, her nails harshly raked the sensitive skin of his inner thighs, making him gasp in pain or pleasure – they were the same right now.
“Fuck!” he exclaimed, looking at her devilishly thrilled face.
Her cheeks were marked with bright red splotched, her wet lips were parted, and the glistening shine on them matched that in her feverish eyes.
Oh, he knew that look very well – she wasn’t immune to this charged moment either!
Good, he thought spitefully, staring into her eyes as she shifted closer and the fabric of her gown rubbed against him.
“Galadriel”, he sent this beggar’s prayer into her mind, watching her stand between his legs.
There was something sensual in not being able to see anything under the milky water. He felt her hands on him, gently sliding from his knees, through the hips and abdomen, to his chest, not once touching him where he so desperately wanted… no – needed to be touched.
Galadriel knelt on the step and raised above him, resting her hands on the pool’s edge and caging him between her arms. She leaned down and breathed out again, “Halbrand….”
Halbrand’s hope she would finally end this torture sparked up.
His hands shot out and grabbed her arse, squeezing it and pressing it down against his engorged cock, his hips desperately searching for friction, for access to the sweet, hot tightness of her cunt. Her arms buckled, and she fell against his chest with a muffled cry. He was seconds away from flipping them over, hiking her dress up, and pounding into her mercilessly, like he’d done on that bloody raft, letting them forget themselves in each other’s bodies.
The red mist of lust and the buzzing in his ears made him nearly miss the hard “No!”
“No?” bemused Halbrand whimpered breathlessly but stopped immediately.
Whatever game she was playing, he was her willing pawn. He was a block of clay ready to be moulded to whatever shape she desired. He’d do anything – anything – just to keep her close, even if it meant his dying of sexual frustration.
“No,” Galadriel whispered into his mouth and looked into his eyes while she took his bottom lip between her lips and sucked on it, making his cock twitch and a throaty moan escape his parted lips.
“No touching,” she growled into his mouth, peeling his arms off her buttocks and placing them back on the pool’s edge.
Afraid she would leave if he objected, Halbrand obediently grabbed the edge of the pool, staring at her, waiting for another command like an eager-to-please hound.
Galadriel hummed contently, shifting her hips up. One of her elbows rested beside his head, and her hand caressed his ear while the other hand disappeared into the milky water.
Halbrand gulped pathetically. His eyes followed her every move.
“Eyes on me, Maia!” She commanded him, and his eyes immediately snapped back to her.
Then he felt her small hand firmly grab his girth and squeeze it painfully, eliciting another “Fuck!” from his mouth. And another one when she suddenly gave him several quick twisting strokes, making him moan loudly. His head dropped back, and his eyes rolled into the back of it.
Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuck…
Seeing Halbrand so lost, helpless, and pliable… so at her mercy, gave Galadriel immense satisfaction and a sense of power. And with power usually came greed for more and, with that - cruelty.
So when his hips moved to meet the tempo of her strokes, and he looked like he was getting close – too close - to his release, she abruptly stopped.
“I said: eyes on me!” She growled into his mind and dug her nails into the silky skin of his thick cock.
Halbrand hissed and opened his eyes in shock, panting. He looked utterly disoriented and devastated by the sudden change.
“Why…” he rasped, looking at her in disbelief.
“Do you want me to continue, my lord?” Galadriel cooed, kissing his big ear, allowing her hand to gently cup his balls and caress them.
“Yes… please?” Halbrand whimpered, his eyes begging, wide and teary. His hands twitched and clasped the edge even harder, making his knuckles go white with effort.
“I will,” her hand moved to his penis and pressed flat against it, rubbing it, “Once you promise me something,” the tip of her tongue licked the inside of his top lip.
“Anything, min ithīr,” his tongue gently caressed hers as they breathed into each other’s mouth, making her shudder with the very need for release she was denying him.
And that need rekindled the anger she felt toward Halbrand for exposing their affairs with no regard for her feelings.
“Swear to me you’ll never publicly tease or make fun of our… private matters,” she hissed, her hand, like a vice, clenched around him.
Halbrand grunted, looking like he was trying to focus on her words but failing. He furrowed his brow, bemused, “What are you talki…”
Galadriel’s thumb traced an angry vein on his cock, making the man gulp and momentarily close his eyes.
“No more suggestive comments aimed at embarrassing me,” her thumb found the base of his penis and massaged it in circular motions. Then she stopped.
Halbrand looked at her in disbelief, heaving. Seeing the pain on his face made Galadriel’s resolution to punish him falter. But she couldn’t. And she wouldn’t. She needed to do it for herself – to prove he wouldn’t always be in charge, subjugating her feelings to his will.
“Agreed?” her hand let go of his cock, and she moved as if she was about to leave.
“YES!” he cried out angrily, but his eyes were wide and afraid.
It was intoxicating to gaze into the eyes of an ageless being who had seen Arda's creation, fought countless battles, and dined with the gods… only to see the helplessness and pleading in those tortured eyes. And the knowledge that only she could soothe him and give him what he needed had her clench so hard she nearly peaked.
“Please,” Halbrand whispered, leaning forward and hiding his face in her neck.“Please,” he repeated in her mind.
Galadriel pressed her face to the side of his head, feeling the heat of his skin. Her hand raked gently through his sweaty locks as her other hand took his cock and started pumping it steadily, twisting around it and squeezing it gently.
“Galadrielgaladrielgaladrielgal…” he moaned her name like a prayer like she was his saviour, not a torturer.
“Shhh… It’s all right,” she cooed softly, and she placed a wet kiss on his ear.
Supported by his spread arms, Halbrand lifted his hips off the bench and started fucking into her hand. He grunted and panted heavily, and Galadriel tightened the embrace, sensing how close he was, feeling his galloping heartbeat. She could feel his incoming orgasm in her body as if she was experiencing everything he was.
Galadriel gasped and clenched her legs to the rhythm of her hand’s movement on his cock, speeding up, wanting to end their shared torture. Her entire body tightened and quivered as she came quietly, feeling bolts of pleasure shooting through her body, leaving a blissful calm in its aftermath.
Halbrand whimpered and bit into the tender skin in the crook of her neck, jerked his pelvis up, and pushed into her hand forcefully one last time before letting out a long moan, marking the end of his torment.
She continued lightly stroking him, allowing him to ride his climax out. When Halbrand stopped moving and went limp in her arms, she chuckled, spent and content, and tugged on his earlobe with her teeth playfully.
“Good boy,” Galadriel purred into his ear.
She took a few steps back out of his arms’ reach, then another few more until she was at the opposite end of the pool. She watched Halbrand’s beautifully flushed and sweaty face, marred by shock and confusion.
She didn’t need to prolong her triumph any longer, so she got out of the water and left, dragging her soggy dress behind her.
Before she disappeared into the gallery, she couldn’t help herself and turned around, saying casually, smiling, “See you in the morning, my lord.”
Having him at her mercy, begging for whatever scraps of pleasure she’d been willing to give him, was enough of revenge. But seeing the realisation dawn on him and the shock on his face as he gaped at her, turning into comprehension, was infinitely rewarding.
Galadriel scoffed at Halbrand, rushed through the gallery to the exit, and walked up the stairs, a happy grin not leaving her face.
Knowing that Halbrand wasn’t immune to her bossiness brought her great joy and relief. Now she had at least one way to dominate that cocky Maia.
She reached the first floor and nearly smashed into Elrond, who stood around the corner. His bright red cheeks and shocked expression told her he’d witnessed everything. She briefly wondered who else heard the courtyard shenanigans.
The more, the better, Galadriel smirked, feeling light and cheerful.
“Thanks for your advice, my friend,” she patted Elrond’s shoulder.
“T-that’s not exactly what I m-m-meant,” he stuttered, avoiding her eyes and fidgeting with his signet, which was a sure sign of how uncomfortable he felt.
“Well… “ Galadriel kissed him lightly on his cheek and chuckled, “That’s what you got.”
And she left, sensing the storm brewing in the courtyard below.
Notes:
Min Ithīr – my light; Ithīr - Valarin for “light”
Chapter 10
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The chirping of birds woke Galadriel. A sunbeam found its way into her bedroom, making her smile lazily. She stretched the way only someone who'd had a good night of sleep would, and she squirmed with giddy joy, remembering the previous night. But then, an insistent knocking cut this pleasant, sleep-crusted moment short. It was time.
Soon, after breakfast, left on a tray outside her door, and her ablutions, Galadriel donned a grey-blue gown made of the finest lace, a matching hooded cape and court shoes. The look was completed with a silver tiara, her sheathed dagger and a silver belt she had snatched from the pile of Halbrand's clothes left in the courtyard's gallery last night. The belt was a trophy, a reminder of her temporary – she had no doubt – triumph.
Galadriel, humming, left her quarters located several floors above Halbrand's and directed her steps to the exit and onto a sunlit street.
"Lady Galadriel!" a voice startled her, and her hand went for the dagger, and she almost attacked the man waiting for her outside, leaning against the building she'd just exited.
"Whoa!" Isildur raised his hands and laughed, "I come in peace, I promise."
"Isildur," she exhaled deeply, relieved.
"I didn't know you had enemies even here, in this beautiful place?" he inquired, tilting his head.
"I don't. Not now, at least," she said grimly, thinking that not long ago, she indeed had had an enemy in Ost-in-Edhil, even if she hadn't realised that at the time. She shook her head to rid herself of the painful memory and looked at the handsome young man, watching her curiously, "Were you waiting for me?"
"Yes, my lady," he bowed his head respectfully and looked at her shyly, "I was hoping to get your advice on something."
What could the Númenórean want from her? Her interest was piqued.
"There’s still plenty of time before the gathering, so let’s go for a walk, shall we?” she smiled at the young man, and when he eagerly nodded, they walked downhill towards the forested area peeking between the ornate stone buildings of this city’s quarter.
They walked in silence for a while, enjoying the warm day in the way an autumn day can be – sunny, but with a cool, light breeze reminding them of the cold days ahead.
Once they left the built-up area, they crossed a footbridge over a stream supported by stone pillars. It led to a circular terrace covered with rusty leaves fallen from the trees above, surrounded by a stone colonnade over which climbing plants rambled. Green hollies and golden-coloured beech trees growing on a hillside and surrounding the terrace created a welcoming backdrop. The sound of cascading water added to the peaceful setting.
Galadriel sat on a stone bench that ran along the terrace’s stone railing and closed her eyes, enjoying her surroundings.
“Isn’t it a bit too isolated for a meeting between such a distinguished council and a man they accuse of conspiring with an enemy?” he asked, looking around suspiciously.
“That is precisely why they want to meet here – just in case things go wrong,” she shrugged, understanding why Gil-Galad wanted to do it this way. He didn’t know the truth yet, after all.
Galadriel worried about the result of this confrontation. Halbrand might be a silver-tongued charmer, but the High King was intelligent and distrustful of anyone but Elves. He may have an inkling of Halbrand’s true nature, but history had proven that being from Aman didn’t make one trustworthy.
Isildur nodded slowly, sat beside her, grasping the bench’s edge and, looking at the ground, confessed, “I talked to Lord Halbrand and the Mage earlier on.” He bit his lip, bouncing his knee anxiously.
“About what?” she croaked, her throat suddenly dry and her cheeks warm at the mention of Halbrand’s name.
Oblivious, Isildur continued, “About me going back to Númenor. Lord Halbrand seems to think my presence may be needed there since our Queen’s quest to Middle-Earth was not the roaring success everyone had thought it would be.”
A pang of guilt hit Galadriel as she felt, despite Queen Miriel’s assurances, the fault was all hers and that whatever unrest might be happening in Númenor right now, she played a significant role in that.
A pang of guilt hit Galadriel as she felt, despite Queen Miriel’s assurances, that the fault was all hers and that she had played a significant role in whatever unrest might be happening in Númenor right now.
That pang was overwhelmed by the fluttering in her stomach when she realised that Halbrand hadn’t forgotten about the promise he’d given her during their trek to Ost-in-Edhil when they had talked about Galadriel’s vision and the need for Isildur’s presence in Númenor. She’d assumed he hadn’t even thought about it since things had gone wrong during their stay here… But he’d found time to make good on his word. Now, with less than an hour before the fate of his relations with the Elves would be weighed.
Like he’s putting his affairs in order, Galadriel swallowed hard and exhaled shakily, her heart clenched at the thought that he hadn’t much hope in a positive outcome.
“I agree with Halbrand,” she sent the young man a small smile, “The times ahead of us are, at best, uncertain, and your Queen could use any support she can get, and…” she looked at him pointedly, “…don’t forget about your father.”
Isildur scoffed, but she saw sadness and worry peeking through the bitter expression on his face.
“Your father loves you very much”, she sent the thought into his mind.
The man’s head snapped to her in shock. He gaped at her for a while, then he snickered, “So all that time during our journey from Khazad-dûm, you, my lady, and Lord Halbrand were talking in this weird magic mind-speech, weren’t you?”
When she nodded and smiled, Isildur shook his head and chuckled, “And there was me wondering why you two looked like you were arguing without having an actual fight.”
“Isildur, your father thinks you’re dead. You should’ve seen how broken he was after the eruption of Orodruin,” Galadriel continued, and the young man’s shocked expression told her that he didn’t consider this idea at all. His eyes filled with tears, and he looked away.
She put her hand on his arm in support, “You should go, even if it was just to let him know you’re alive, that you’re fine,” a few moments passed, “I know you wanted this big adventure in your life. But we have duties to our people, and I have a feeling your adventure will end up many times greater than you can imagine now and that it will come to pass through you fulfilling your family’s oath to serve you land.”
Isildur looked back at her, sniffling, and wiped his nose with the sleeve of his maroon tunic. She smiled at this child-like behaviour that reminded her of how young Isildur was – even for the human lifespan.
“Why do you sound like you saw my future?” He narrowed his eyes at her.
“Magic, how else?” She mind-spoke.
Seeing his eyes widen in amazement, she burst out laughing, letting him know she was kidding. He didn’t need to know all the details of her visions and premonitions – nothing good would come out of it.
Isildur snorted and bowed his head, “All right, then. Keep your secrets.”
They sat in friendly silence for a while. Isildur rested his back against a column and looked pensively at the forest’s landscape. Galadriel leaned against another column and looked down at the stream below, listening to the trickling sound of water flowing around the supporting pillars.
She still marvelled over Halbrand’s trustworthiness. That man never ceased to astonish her, and he always dispersed any negative feelings she could have toward him.
He was dangerous and cunning but also unexpectedly kind and gentle. Galadriel wondered whether that was the Maia in him, reading others’ feelings and thoughts and reacting accordingly… or the shadow and light constantly battling inside him, with one gaining a temporary upper hand from time to time.
Her chain of thought was broken when she sensed the subject of her musings approach, and when she turned toward the bridge, she saw Morinehtar, clad in blue robes, and Halbrand strolling casually. When they reached the terrace, they were joined by Isildur, who engaged them in conversation. She was too preoccupied with watching Halbrand, standing sideways to her with his hands clasped behind his back, to eavesdrop.
Galadriel had to admit he looked annoyingly attractive in his dark outfit: a simple charcoal velvet tunic finished with black hems and studding around the collar, silver belts crossing on his hips, black leather breeches, coat and high boots added to the rather gloomy look.
Trying to intimidate somebody, are you? She felt a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth but got startled when she saw Halbrand watching her intently. He wasn’t laughing but might as well be as the crowfeet appeared around his shining eyes, revealing his amusement… and the fact he’d been eavesdropping in her mind.
She wanted to stick her tongue out at him as she had used to whenever Finrod had mocked her during their combat lessons, laughing at the uncoordinated movement of her then-gangly limbs.
Halbrand didn’t say a word and sat between a bored-looking Morinehtar and an excited Isildur on the opposite side of the terrace, his legs spread wide and hands clasped between his thighs.
He leaned against a column and tilted his head back, looking at her with a smug smirk dancing on his lips. His eyes slowly slid down her body and stopped on her hips, scanning his belt woven with her silver one hugging them intimately. Raising his brow arrogantly and still smiling, he looked up and watched her intently. He either found her childish trophy funny, or he was up to something. The former was annoying, and the latter was a tad mortifying.
But whichever it was, it had to wait as a procession led by King Gil-Galad, wearing his royal golden robes and insignia, approached and soon, they were sat and ready to proceed.
Everybody seemed to ignore Halbrand’s very existence. The King, Celebrimbor and the city council members – because he was a low man and an enemy as far as they were concerned. Elrond – because last night, he had witnessed things that still made him blush till this moment. And the guards – because it was their job… until it wasn’t.
When they were sat, Gil-Galad raised his hand to silence everyone and said sternly, “May we start?” He nodded at Elrond, who flattened clean pieces of parchment on a small folding console table he’d brought with him and readied his quill and ink to take notes. Galadriel found it amusing and wondered who actually read a meeting minutes.
The King turned to Halbrand and asked him directly in a no-nonsense tone, “Who are you, Lord Halbrand?”
Galadriel’s breath hitched as the straightforward question took her by surprise. This was the moment she’d been dreading. If Halbrand decided not to cooperate and to goad Gil-Galad and the others, that would cost him any chance to leave this place peacefully. And selfishly, if that happened, she didn’t know what would happen to her – the enemy’s ally.
Scared, she looked at Halbrand, and he looked at her. His sombre expression assured her he treated this moment seriously.
He gazed at Morinehtar, who nodded in silent agreement, then stood up. His eyes glossed over the gathered, eventually fixing on the King.
“Vala Oromë calls me Dréfengást,” Halbrand said dispassionately. He could fool anybody, but Galadriel knew he was nervous – his hands were clenched into tight fists, and his head was lowered, making him look like a cornered animal, ready to defend himself.
“I used to live in the northern Woods. I used to teach people of Middle-earth hunting. I used to train the Hounds,” he looked absently towards the trees, “I had used to be so many things before I became something else entirely…” his quiet voice trailed off.
The only sounds accompanying the stunned silence were the rustling leaves and water running beneath them. Galadriel was reminded of her reaction to Halbrand’s confession. She, too, had had problems digesting the revelation and needed a moment or two to regain the ability to speak again.
Elrond was openly gaping, his eyes wide in shock. The guards and the city council members were nervously glancing at each other while Celebrimbor seemed deep in thought, with his brows knitted, stroking his chin.
Isildur, the first to learn about Halbrand’s true nature, rested his elbows on the wall behind and leaned back casually, looking around smugly. As per his usual self, Morinehtar looked uninterested and seemingly too busy playing with his beard and tapping his fingers on his trusty staff.
Gil-Galad had been intently watching and listening, and now, he didn’t seem surprised but concerned. He slowly stood up, clasped his hands in front of him, and took several steps to face Halbrand.
His facial expression was unreadable when he said quietly, “It seems convenient to announce you’re a Maia, especially when we don’t have a way of knowing,” he tilted his head and narrowed his eyes.
“You do know I don’t have to prove anything to you, Elf… don’t you?” Halbrand nonchalantly took a few steps toward Gil-Galad, raising his chin arrogantly and clasping his hands behind his back to signal he didn’t feel threatened or intimidated by the situation.
“And you do know I don’t have to believe anything you say without giving us any proof of your identity, low-man… don’t you?” Gil-Galad sneered and took another step toward Halbrand.
This behaviour was so unlike the King that Galadriel was seriously worried about the outcome. But the worry turned into mortification when Halbrand also took a step forward, lowering his head aggressively and staring at his opponent with an intensity that would make a most retreat in panic.
Whatever Gil-Galad saw, it made him unclasp his hands and let his arms fall to his sides as he took a cautious step back. And then Galadriel saw that Halbrand’s eyes had an unnatural shine to them – a faint silver glow that was as otherworldly as it was disturbing.
Halbrand took another step, widening his stance, readying himself for a confrontation.
“Halbrand, don’t!” she sent the warning into his mind, jumping to her feet and hoping her words would find their way through the haze of rage he was drowning in.
He stopped and glanced at her, and that moment of their connection seemed enough to bring him back. Galadriel breathed a sigh of relief and sat back down again.
“All right, Elf,” Halbrand snickered at Gil-Galad, who watched him apprehensively, “I’ll give you your proof.”
Seeing the fear in the High King’s eyes as he was backing away was so rewarding that Halbrand almost didn’t mind spending the past days in prison or the treatment he’d received there.
He was, however, thankful to Galadriel for helping him regain his senses when the fury had taken over. He usually didn’t care about being called a low-man, but the contempt the Elven King had poured into the words reminded him why he detested Elves so much, and he almost snapped.
I’ll teach you a lesson, you pointy-eared arrogant bastard, he thought gleefully and said out loud, “All right, Elf. I’ll give you your proof.”
Gil-Galad’s eyes almost imperceptibly widened, but he said with an icy tone, “It won’t be necessary,” and stiffly turned around and returned to his seat.
Halbrand, staring after the King, summoned his natural abilities and hummed the ageless song of creation sung by his people ever since the very idea of Arda sparked into its existence.
Within seconds he felt the grace of Eru flooding his fëa, and the familiar tingling in his fingertips spread to his back. The moment Gil-Galad sat down, Halbrand reached back and conjured a silver bow and arrow that materialised as he pulled them out.
The time seemed to slow down for him, and before anybody could react, he aimed and released the arrow, watching it pierce the parchment Elrond raised to his mouth to blow at the ink to dry quicker, snatching it away, and gliding deep into the forest.
“Show-off,” Morinehtar’s unimpressed grumble, accompanied by the gasps of all present, brought Halbrand back from the spell.
Seeing the baffled guards looking at each other and reaching for their weapons, he placatingly raised his hands in a display of no ill intentions.
He wasn’t done yet, though. He rested his bow tip on the ground, leaned on it, and looking at Gil-Galad’s shocked face, he put his thumb and a finger in his mouth and whistled loudly. For a while, nothing happened, but he patiently waited with his chin resting on his hands stacked atop the bow’s tip.
He felt light – knowing that his old master still had his back made all his anger dissipate in the warm embrace of happiness.
A little afraid of Galadriel’s reaction to his behaviour, he glanced at her. She sat unmoving, her hands flat on her lap, face stern. She didn’t look like his display affected her like the others.
His ego bristled at that, and as if she’d sensed his mood, the tiniest of smiles appeared on her beautiful face, and her eyes lit up with mirth as she mind-spoke, “He’s right. You are a show-off.”
Halbrand grinned at her, “But you knew that already, my little Elf.”
Before she could admonish him for calling her his, a distant barking sounded in the forest, and everybody stood up and faced outward. Halbrand joined them and smiled, seeing half a dozen dogs galloping between the trees, orange leaves flurrying up in their wake.
“Hounds of Valinor,” Elrond whispered, looking utterly spellbound by the view of the glorious animals rushing up the forest’s hillside.
Halbrand turned around, walked back to the centre, and watched the bridge, slinging his bow over his shoulder and feeling it vanish. The tapping and clicking of dogs’ paws on the stone announced their arrival, and soon, the beasts and their master were reunited.
In the joyful commotion of him trying to give every hound attention, a muffled bark caught Halbrand’s attention. He turned toward the bridge where a massive black wolfhound sat, waiting patiently, the arrow sticking out between the dog’s teeth and the parchment dangling from the arrowhead.
“Emniht![1]” Halbrand almost teared up seeing his most beloved and faithful hound and signalled her to join him, but the only response he got was a little tail wag. Emniht didn’t move, clearly expecting a different command.
One nod and the dog walked toward stunned Elrond and sat in front of him, waiting for him to detach his parchment from the arrow. When the Elf snapped out of the shock, he took the offering off the arrow and smiled kindly.
But his confusion came back when he raised his hand to scratch the beast behind her ear, and his hand went right through the hound’s body as if she was a ghost.
Emniht, surrounded by the excited murmuring of the Elves, turned around and looked at Halbrand with her uniquely coloured eyes – one was amber and the other green. She barked, and other animals stepped away from Halbrand, allowing him to sit cross-legged on the ground.
Now, her tail was wagging feverishly, nearly distorting her trajectory as she rushed toward him, dropping the arrow in the process.
He didn’t pay any attention to anyone’s comments on the fact that he, as opposed to Elrond, could physically touch the hounds. For the next couple of minutes, it was all about belly-rubbing, joyful whining, and good-girl’ing while having his face peppered with loving licks,
When the time came to let Emniht go, Halbrand got up, leaned down, grabbed her snout, and pressed his forehead to hers, whispering, “See you soon, my friend.” One last kiss on her head and the hounds left, disappearing into thin air before reaching the bridge's other side.
He stood, staring after them and feeling sorrow and longing for his old life. It was hard to fathom that he had left behind all that to follow some vague visions of somebody who was not his friend —these faithful friends from Valinor.
Meanwhile, the world re-emerged from the spell, and the forest’s sounds and excited voices of the council surrounded him again. He knew the worst part of his story was yet to come, so he was in no hurry to face those people just yet.
“Halbrand…” Galadriel’s soft voice sounded behind him, and her warm hand rested on his back. A serene feeling washed over him before he fully returned to reality.
“Galadriel,” he whispered, his eyes still fixed on the spot where the hounds vanished, “How could I ever abandon them?”
“They don’t seem to hold it against you,” there was a smile in her voice. She came to stand beside and gazed up at him, her fingers, out of sight of the others, nibbling at the hem of his velvet tunic, making his heart stuttered.
“I know.” Halbrand shook his head in amazement. He turned his head down and looked into her mesmerising blue eyes.
“How is it possible you look so sweetly innocent after what you did to me last night, elf?” he sent the thought to her as his fingers found her hair and played with its tips.
Galadriel gasped, and her cheeks nearly combusted. She looked away and, for a few moments, refused to glimpse in his vague direction.
Good. He snickered. The memory of waking up painfully aroused early this morning was still fresh. He had taken himself in his hand, trying to recreate Galadriel’s fingers’ touch and movement. But when the release finally had come, and his body seemed sated, he’d still felt unsatisfied.
“Don’t be obnoxious and vulgar,” she mentally scoffed and adorably pursed her lips.
“Vulgar?” he barked out a laugh, “I’ll show you vulgar, love. I promise.”
She finally turned to look at him, still furiously blushing, but now he could see her glassy eyes and dilated pupils – a sure sign of his words' effect on her.
“Galadriel! Halbrand!” Elrond's voice urged them.
They stared at each other for a few more moments before turning around to face the others and take their seats.
As they were about to separate, Galadriel murmured to Halbrand, “Don’t make promises you may fail to keep, Maia,” and left him in the centre of the terrace, stunned and gaping.
Halbrand snapped out of shock when a paled and shaken Lord Celebrimbor asked, “It doesn’t make sense. Why did you let us… mistreat you if you could free yourself?!” His incredulity was amusing but understandable.
“Free myself? How? Was I to disappear in a puff of smoke?” Halbrand’s sarcasm found an audience only in Isildur, who snorted, “I’m not a shapeshifter to simply slither my way out of here in the form of a snake, nor am I an Istar like this man over here,” he motioned toward Morinehtar, making everybody look at the man in astonishment.
“I’m not some carnival act to be disappearing in puffs of smoke, stardust, or any other impractical manner.” Morinehtar, deeply offended, brushed the invisible dust off the sleeve of his blue coat, “In fact, nobody can just disappear.”
“The Hounds just did,” Isildur helpfully pointed out.
“That’s different - they were just a phantom, my boy.”
The wizard’s patronising tone must’ve irked the Númenórean because he narrowed his eyes at him and deadpanned, “Then how could Lord Halbrand touch them if they were just a projection?”
“Enough, enough!” Annoyed Gil-Galad raised his hand again and sighed. He looked at Halbrand with a kinder eye, “Lord Celebrimbor makes a good point. Why didn’t you just leave?” he enquired, “You’re Vala Oromë’s pupil, which makes you a cunning warrior. Why didn’t you fight your way out?”
“Because of Lady Galadriel.” Halbrand admitted quietly, “She already is ostracised. You even banished her and ordered her to leave for Valinor, knowing her mission isn’t complete!”
The King opened his mouth to say something, but Halbrand didn’t let him and angrily explained, “If I took the guards out and escaped, you’d cast Galadriel out, maybe even cut your ties with her completely,” he said bitterly, allowing his eyes to glance over the Elves who had the decency to look sheepish.
Halbrand looked at Galadriel and smiled sombrely. Her eyes filled with tears.
He sighed and looked the King straight in the eyes, saying, “You still might once you learn who I became.”
Notes:
[1] Emniht - equal day and night (Old English)
Chapter Text
“And who would that be?” the apprehension sounding in the King’s quiet voice and the dark frown on his face made Halbrand gulp.
He sat down, and after a moment of silence, he confessed, trying to keep his voice steady and neutral, “Feorhweard is the name I donned after I had joined Sauron and became his… adviser.”
He had had enough practice telling his story to Isildur and then Galadriel to know what was coming next: shock, denial, bafflement, and distrust, followed by a reluctant acceptance. Because what else could one do after hearing about his turbulent past?
Celebrimbor sprung up from his seat, pointing his finger at him, “So we were right after all!”
“Master Celebrimbor! Please…” Gil-Galad’s voice sounded dangerously calm, but his piercing eyes were anything but, “…let our guest continue,” he said through his teeth.
He motioned at Halbrand to continue and waited, everything in his posture screaming anger and nervousness.
“As the War was still raging on, the Valar decided I would go to Middle-earth to weaken Morgoth.” Halbrand scoffed, “Of course, I alone had no chance against Melkor himself, so I was supposed to do it by capturing his first in-command – Sauron — to prevent the possible future return of both Dark Lords.”
“How would that weaken Morgoth?” Gil-Galad asked.
“Plans to subdue Melkor were already in motion. My tasks were to find a way to keep Sauron away from his master and gain his trust until I could, at least partially, seize his soul and power.”
Whenever Halbrand thought about that insane plan, he marvelled at how the Valar could choose him for that mission. How could his own master be that blind and not see how risky it was to have him – Dréfengást – mingle with the Shadow? There was too much darkness in himself, and that made him rebellious, hot-headed, and at times – vicious.
“And so I did,” he hummed pensively, “It wasn’t an easy task as Mairon knew me and didn’t trust my then-fake intentions. And why would he? Trusting anyone coming from Aman offering their services in a middle of a war was far from reasonable, and he fancied himself as such.”
“That’s a great question.” Elrond frowned, intrigued. “Why did he trust you?”
Halbrand mirthlessly chuckled, leaning his elbows on his knees, sniffed and said, “Oromë often said that my resentment towards the Ainur for abandoning Middle-earth and Men would get me in heaps of trouble, and that I’d be lucky if Eru wouldn’t come to Arda to thrust my rebellious arse into the Void personally.”
“Ha! He did say that, indeed, that temperamental redhead, didn’t he?” Morinehtar snickered, seemingly very fond of that memory.
“But how could your… attitude,” Celebrimbor sounded confused, “gain Sauron’s trust?”
“We shared that attitude,” Halbrand raised his brow. “And because of that, and the Darkness lurking around the edges of my soul, he must’ve seen an ally in me.”
Gil-Galad nodded slowly, “And the plan clearly worked since Sauron was nowhere to be seen in the final days of the War. Where were you?” There was curiosity in his voice now.
“In Dúrnost - his secret fortress in the eastern Forodwaith.” Halbrand had to smile at the cunning ways of Mairon, “You see, Sauron, seeing that the odds of Morgoth winning the war were against his master, didn’t want to go down with him. Sauron felt he needed to stay in Middle-earth to bring order and peace to this land.”
“Oh, that went well,” Elrond’s voice was dripping with sarcasm.
“His good intentions and desire to help were genuine, Elrond,” Halbrand looked at the ground, hating that he sounded like he was defending the Dark Lord… because it was himself he was defending.
“But add greed for power and the darkest of magic, and you have a recipe for evil,” Galadriel said grimly and balled her hands into tight fists, looking into the distance.
Halbrand nodded, “The very idea of ridding this land of chaos was too seductive to me not to consider it. So after centuries, I was seduced, and my original mission was forgotten. I wanted to help and be part of the new order, even if only to spite the Ainur and the Elves.”
“How charming,” Morinehtar’s sarcastic tone of voice irritated Halbrand.
“You don’t love Elves either, old man, so be quiet.” Halbrand hissed, side-eying the wizard.
“Might I remind you, I don’t like anyone, you insolent brat?” the Istar viciously narrowed his eyes at him.
“Can we continue?” Exasperated Gil-Galad’s fingers pinched the bridge of his nose.
Halbrand gave Morinehtar one last glare before saying, “We bided our time in the safety of Sauron’s lair, making plans for the new Middle-earth. In his spare time, when he wasn’t conducting his dark experiments on Adar’s Uruks, he taught me the ways of fire and metal, allowing me to make weapons and trinkets in his forgery. We grew quite close.” His face darkened, “And that wasn’t a favourable situation for Adar as he felt I was taking the Dark Lord’s attention away from him.”
“Who’s that?” Celebrimbor inquired.
“Call him the First Orc, the Dark Elf, Father of Uruks.” He spat on the ground angrily. “He’s Morgoth’s creation, and like me, got seduced by Sauron’s promises and thought I was just a distraction from the promised prize.”
“And what was he promised?” Elrond tilted his head, pausing writing, with his quill hovering mid-air.
“A land the Uruks would rule over unbothered, and in return, Adar was to help him create a more ferocious and daylight-resistant – a better - breed of Orcs.” Halbrand sniffed, feeling an unwanted pang of pity for the Dark Elf.
“How is it relevant to anything?” a she-Elf, whose name Halbrand hadn’t bothered to memorise, scoffed impatiently. He stared her down until she averted her gaze, nervously fidgeting with her jewels-crusted rings.
“Adar came to me to strike a deal,” he continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “Citing his desire to keep the Dark Lord safe, he wanted me to convince Sauron to let me safe-keep some of his essence. It was, supposedly, insurance that the Dark Lord had a way of returning in case something went wrong with either the experiments or the Elves who’d been searching for him tirelessly,” Halbrand smirked at Galadriel, who jotted her chin out arrogantly.
“And why would Sauron trust you with something so precious, knowing who you are?” asked Gil-Galad, raising his brows.
“He had no reasons not to.” The simplicity of his statement and its truth made Halbrand huff in disbelief at his own past. “He admitted he’d already attempted to pour his essence into his sword but failed, destroying the weapon in the process. All that was left was a broken hilt, carrying a mere residue of his power.”
He turned to the she-Elf, “And here’s the relevance, my lady. Adar, unknowingly, aided my original mission, even if it had been abandoned by me,” Halbrand explained. “Whether he suspected me of not being a true ally on not, he had the upper hand. You see, because our pact depended entirely on trust, and mine started to crumble the moment when, out of nowhere, I was tasked with reforging Sauron’s sword and pouring his essence into it.”
“You?” Celebrimbor’s incredulity seemed to be shared by others. “Why didn’t he do it by himself?”
“There’s only one place in Middle-earth that could withstand and contain the dark magic, and Sauron had to remain hidden.” Halbrand paused, feeling the memories flooding his mind.
His task seemed straightforward – arduous and dangerous but clear in its goal. Yet, Feorhweard feared possible machinations behind the decision to send him away on this time-consuming quest. Why now when a breakthrough in Sauron’s experiments was about to happen?
He knew he had the Dark Lord’s trust and hoped he had his loyalty, too. After all, he had proved his devotion when, instead of returning to Angband to rejoin Morgoth in the wake of his defeat, he convinced Sauron to retreat to his fortress where he could be protected. He advised Sauron and, eventually, bought into his vision of healing Middle-earth and bringing it back to its former glory.
Feorhweard still remembered the initial mission he had been sent on by his Vala master – to hunt down and capture the very shadow he, now, was bound to. But he wouldn’t let the rare moments of shame and regrets shake his faith in the vision woven by the Dark Lord.
That’s why, despite his gnawing doubts, he hadn’t hesitated to leave when told to travel south to Orodruin in the Southlands, carrying the broken hilt and a silver trinket with Sauron’s essence in. He wanted to aid the return of the Dark Lord, who was still in hiding from the Valar and their puppets – the Elves – and to do that, he had to put all that he’d learnt in Sauron’s forgery into practice and reforge the sword in the fires of Orodruin and transfer his essence into it.
After weeks of travel, when he almost reached his destination, and the flat peak of Orodruin emerged between the black rocks of Morgai, he was attacked.
And when he laid on his back pinned down to the mossy forest ground by sharp claws, looking into the red beady eyes of the wolf and feeling its slimy drool on his cheek as the beast growled at him, the realisation came.
He’d been betrayed.
Feorhweard wasn’t sure whether they were memories or nightmares. The fantastical visions weaved and interacted in the most bizarre ways, from the snarls of werewolves tearing into his flesh to the plumes of woody smoke and ritualistic chanting of people surrounding his motionless form.
And when it all stopped, a deafening silence surrounded him for hours, days… he’d lost count.
Once Feorhweard fully regained consciousness, memories flooded him, making him scramble in search of the hilt and the silver bottle. Still, they were gone along with his clothes and weapons, leaving him naked in a bed lavishly garnished with furs and down pillows.
Strangers came and went, tending to the wounds he’d sustained when battling for his life against Sauron’s hellhounds.
The Dark Lord had turned against him, and Feorhweard knew to whose sinister whispers Sauron had been listening.
Adar. The ally. The traitor.
He didn’t know where he was but knew now where he would head.
For the first time in centuries, his path seemed clear as the veil of delusions of his own making was lifted, allowing him to take a deep breath and readjust his goals.
He would face the Valar and accept whatever punishment they would place upon him. He wouldn’t be a coward like Mairon had been - he was a proud Ainu, ready to face his sins.
Because the Southlanders treated him with reverence and referred to him as Lord, he knew he was relatively safe for the time being - at least until Sauron sent another wave of his beastly servants for him to slaughter.
A few days into his recovery, someone mentioned a platoon of Elvish soldiers closing on the castle, most likely to investigate the commotion caused by their guest’s arrival.
If his meeting with the King of the Southlands – a man obsessively devoted to Morgoth — or having the sword hilt taken away to be worshipped as an omen of the new Dark Lord’s accession wasn’t Feorhweard’s cue to leave, the arrival of the Elves had to be.
He stole some clothes from the servants’ quarters and snuck out in the middle of the night into the woods surrounding the castle. There, hidden, he waited patiently for a clue as to where to start his search for the hilt and the attached trinket.
He could sense it. The hilt called out to him the same way his old master Oromë used to summon him - through whispers carried in the whistling of the breeze.
For long hours, he waited and meditated, imploring the Valar to guide him, to permit him to return to the Undying Lands.
To his great relief, his attempts hadn’t gone unnoticed. He saw the dim glow of the hounds of Valinor, moving silently through the dark forest, encircling him, waiting for his command…like in the old times.
When Feorhweard spotted the king entering an unassuming cairn, one of many dotted around the forested mountain slope, he followed, sure that the man would lead him to the right place, and he was correct.
The Maia's following actions were born out of cold calculations guaranteeing his survival. He could tell the king about his mission and hope the man would willingly give him the hilt back. Or he could kill the king quickly and be on his way.
He let his self-preservation instincts take over, and after a short struggle, the king was lying dead at his feet, with his head twisted at an unnatural angle.
Feorhweard snatched the dark hilt and the silver trinket off a grotesque stone altar and pondered his next steps. A sudden appearance of an Istar quietly entering the chamber, asking whether he needed help with anything, startled him into nearly dropping the pouch and the sigil he’d just removed from the corpse’s neck.
The wizard didn’t need to ask further when he noticed the hilt and the blood-oath pouch and silently stood guard at the entrance while Feorhweard transferred Sauron’s essence from the trinket into the leather bottle, cloaking both the pouch and his own spirit’s signatures with protective spells.
Feorhweard dragged the king’s body into the woods, letting the hounds of Valinor rip it apart, giving himself more time to escape and hide before the Elves – and the locals – discovered what had transpired here.
The hilt was left behind at the bottom of a well. So was Feorhweard’s identity, along with his ties to the Shadow.
Dréfengást followed his new ally - Morinehtar, to the west.
Neither Dréfengást nor Morinehtar was keen to discuss the cold-blooded murder and desecration of a corpse just days ago in the Southlands.
It was bad enough that the days of an exhausting trek to the coast had been filled with anxiety, not knowing when and where Sauron’s beasts — or the Elves — would attack them. Even with the Valinorean hounds protecting them, the grim dread of the inevitable confrontation weighed them down. So both men preferred to leave the subject of the dead king of the Southlands be for the time being.
Once the sea was in sight, Dréfengást had a sudden realisation. He could not leave Middle-earth without leaving the pouch behind, and that was out of the question.
The blood-oath tied him to this land, and it didn’t matter that it hadn’t been him who pledged – killing the king meant the oath had been passed onto him. So, until they came up with a solution or the Valar aided him somehow, he had to remain in this place.
Dréfengást needed a new form, name, life story, and new goals.
He was grateful Morinehtar agreed to stay, and for a day and night, the wizard watched over him while he morphed into his new form.
He took his time as it was not only the first time he was changing his form but also the newly chosen one was created in the image of a man Dréfengást had once known, and he wanted to recreate Anskar’s form faithfully.
When it was done, Morinehtar, the hounds, and the grace of the Valar vanished.
Halbrand was left alone.
When Halbrand finished reporting his account of the events, including his attempted escape from Middle-earth, he looked at the faces surrounding him. The shocked expression on everyone’s faces was understandable to Halbrand, but Gil-Galad seemed calmer with each beat of the story.
The King curiously looked at him and quietly said, “Over a thousand years living in hiding, dreading being discovered and destroyed by the Dark Lord, knowing you’d most likely end up in the Void, seem like almost enough of punishment for your betrayal.”
“I wasn’t hiding because I was afraid of the Void,” Halbrand countered in an equally unemotional tone, “I made my peace with the fact that the Void is, most likely, my destination. I just hoped I’d have enough time to fix some of the mess before I return to Valinor for my judgment.”
His face dropped, “But it wasn’t to be as my journey to the Undying Lands was hindered at the Sundering Seas, first by the Valar… or Sauron’s machinations, then by a certain she-elf who wouldn’t take a “no” for an answer.” Halbrand looked at Galadriel, and her gentle smile made his heart flutter again.
“And how do you want to fix the mess, if I may ask?” Elrond raised his brows.
“By going to the Southlands,” Halbrand sniffed and scratched his nose, “or what’s left of it, finding Adar, and destroying him, the pouch, and the hilt – all before Sauron arrives at Orodruin to forge his ring.”
“Orodruin? Is that where you think he goes next?” Galadriel looked stunned.
Halbrand told them about his suspicions about the rings and why the Southlands was the most likely place the Dark Lord would head.
“And why do you care more about that weirdo Adar than Sauron?” Isildur shrugged in confusion.
“That weirdo is more powerful than you think,” Halbrand explained, still feeling frustrated that nobody took Adar seriously enough. “He took my pouch and unleashed Orodruin so his Orcs could have a haven.” He remembered the event prompting his escape from Middle-earth. “I’m also sure Sauron must’ve broken his promise, and Adar did something to him.”
“What could one Orc do to the Dark Lord?” Galadriel scoffed derisively. Halbrand looked at her, his eyes begging to support him in this.
“Adar, while assisting Sauron in the experiments, learned a lot about dark magic and even practised it,” he shook his head, “Sauron, just like you, didn’t see him as a danger in any way and found Adar’s attempts at casting spells amusing. He grossly underestimated Adar. But Adar learned – and fast.” He looked pointedly at Galadriel to remind her how quickly their joy at the victory was extinguished in the fumes of the volcano.
Gil-Galad nodded slowly, listening carefully. “So if Sauron and that Adar are not allied, Sauron may have problems getting into the mountain,” he said slowly, “He’d have to go through the Orcs or find a way to subdue them.”
“And that would never happen with Adar being alive, so he’ll have to find and kill Adar first,” Halbrand injected, and the two exchanged looks of mutual understanding.
“And that may be tricky and take a long time since your former friend probably knows how to cloak himself with magic,” Elrond added, looking almost excited at the prospect of the unfolding intrigue.
“I still fail to understand how Sauron could take his carnal form only now and not earlier?” Isildur frowned, crossing his ankles and folding his arms on his chest.
“Because a part of his essence was kept away from him, he didn’t have enough power to re-form,” Morinehtar looked at the younger man as if the answer should be evident to everyone.
“Then why would the creepy elf release it if he hated Sauron?” the Númenórean’s question made Halbrand smile with pride as if Isildur was his protégé.
Everybody looked at Halbrand in anticipation.
“Maybe he thought I would go after Sauron instead of him,” he shrugged. “Or he thought Sauron would immediately head for his lair and leave Adar for the time being. I don’t know.”
“So what will you do now?” Elrond asked, rolling the quill between his fingers. “How will you find Adar if even Sauron can’t?”
“Each Maia has a unique ability that decides their designation.” Halbrand hummed, and a horn materialised in his hand. He studied the instrument for a moment and continued, “Mine had bound me to Vala Oromë. I can track like no one else and have a good knowledge of magic, so I can capture, cloak, reveal, and subdue pretty much anything that falls into my traps.” He attached the horn to his belt, and it immediately disappeared.
Halbrand knew that what he was about to say might not be taken well by some, and perhaps he’d been seen as a coward, but his conscious had been nagging him to do it, and his heart desired to get his affairs in order before making any major move against Adar.
“But first, I have to return to Valinor to face the council of the Ainur and learn my fate,” he gazed at Galadriel to gauge her reaction and immediately regretted it - her suddenly paled face told him it wasn’t something she expected to hear.
Halbrand closed his eyes, feeling his stomach drop, and exhaled slowly, hoping things weren’t as bad as they seemed.
She stood up and, without looking at anyone, left without a word, stiffly marching toward the city’s streets.
“I have to do this, my love, I swear,” he implored her before she disappeared between the buildings.
Galadriel neither answered nor stopped.
Chapter 12
Summary:
Very NSFW for all those who have no romance planned for Valentine's Day ;)
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The sun was setting over the horizon when Galadriel finally gave up on trying to write letters to the Noldor’s possible allies and leaned against the ornate metal railing of the terrace, taking in the beautiful spectacle of the day and night battling for dominance. A metal canopy with flowers climbing on the posts created a secluded green oasis where she could be sure nobody would look for her. But she refused to admit she – a hardened soldier – was hiding to lick her emotional wounds like some timid maid!
Galadriel found it hard to stay still throughout the day. The bombshell about Halbrand going to Valinor now had rendered her unable to focus on anything other than the terrifying thought he might never return. She tried to will into existence a belief that she dreaded his departure purely because it would result in losing any chance of changing the grim fate of Middle-earth, or at least of delaying the inevitable.
But she couldn’t deny that the sorrow that came with the revelation had a lot to do with her fear that she’d never see Halbrand again and she wouldn’t find the courage to talk to him about them and their future.
Not being informed by Halbrand about his plans felt like a betrayal. Did he not trust her? Or was he afraid she’d try to stop him if he’d told her? Because she would!
If he wanted to keep this land safe, he shouldn’t go to a place he may never return from. Galadriel’s throat constricted, and tears stung her eyes.
“Enough of this silliness!” she whispered angrily, annoyed with her emotional turmoil.
The distant sound of footsteps on the stairs and voices made her grab a lantern and hastily leave the terrace to avoid running into anyone. She took her shoes off before hurrying downstairs to her chambers, two floors below.
When she entered her quarters and closed the door quietly, Galadriel pressed her hands and forehead against the cool metal, giving herself a moment to clear her head from the sadness in her mind.
She had to find a way to persuade Halbrand to stay. The Valar and their Ainur business could wait a few more centuries. Besides, she thought as she tried to rationalise and shove the more selfish reasons to the back of her mind, wouldn’t it be better if he went back to the Undying Lands with a load of good deeds that could be weighed against his dark past?
Galadriel sighed, pushing off the door. Everything had to wait until tomorrow, as she felt too deflated and too tired to make plans.
She turned and walked to the bathing area, stripping off her lacy gown, belts and hairpins. Once naked, she stood in front of a large mirror and studied her porcelain-smooth body, braiding her hair and casually wondering whether Halbrand could be seduced into staying.
As if summoned, the man appeared behind her. His gloomy reflection in the mirror sent delightful shivers throughout her body.
He didn’t say anything or touch her; his eyes didn’t stray from hers. They both watched each other in anticipation, only their breaths disturbed the otherwise quiet evening.
Eventually, Halbrand bent down to pick his belt off the floor and came close enough for Galadriel to feel the heat radiating from his body. This time, his gaze caressed her naked body, making her want to lean back and rub her backside against the velvet fabric of his dark tunic.
His hands slowly encircled her, wrapping his belt around her hips. The sensation of his fingers on her lower belly and the coldness of the metal buckle made her shudder, pebbling her nipples and making her toes curl.
When he was done, his calloused hands rested on her hips, and Galadriel, who was dizzily watching them in the mirror, gasped when the flames of lust burst inside her so violently that her thighs clenched and rubbed against each other, trying to increase that sweet pain.
“I was seduced the moment you laid your eyes on me,” Halbrand whispered, admitting that he, again, had been snooping around her mind. Looking at the reflection of his hands kneading her sensitive skin, he said in a hushed tone, “Even if I didn’t know it then, I was lost. I was completely at your mercy, my Lady.”
Holding her gaze, he lowered his head, his hair tickling her face and shoulder, and slowly kissed the tender skin at the base of her neck, his teeth gently biting into it.
“And as much as I want to stay….” He straightened up and watched his hands gliding up her body, stopping when the tips of his fingers brushed against the underside of her breasts. Galadriel hummed and bit her lip, her hands flew up and grabbed the sleeves of his tunic. She didn’t try to stop him – she needed an anchor, and his strong body helped to ground her.
Halbrand smiled, cupping her breasts and allowing his thumbs gently draw circles around her nipples, “…I have to do it now, Galadriel.”
That didn’t explain anything, and Galadriel was as confused as before. She opened her mouth to argue but only gasped when he squeezed her needy tits, forcefully pressing her body against his just in time to support her as her knees gave in.
“Why?” she managed to utter shakily, watching his wandering hands slide back down her body so his fingers could rake through the golden curls between her thighs.
Galadriel still held onto his forearms, taking in the sensual scene reflected in the mirror. He was fully clothed, dark and mysterious, with eyes shining ethereally. She was completely naked, with the silver-golden braid resting between her breasts, her milky skin sharply contrasting with his dark outfit.
“Because if I perish before my judgment, I will lose any chance to defend my choices in front of the Ainur Council,” he said sternly but, in contrast, his hand was gentle when it cupped her mound.
“Because if I want to stand a chance against Adar and his Orcs, I need to bring my hounds and my weapons over,” his mouth captured her pointy ear and sucked on it.
“And most of all, because I need to find a way to keep you safe.” Halbrand said harshly, letting her know the subject was closed.
The Elf couldn’t just let go, even in this state of intoxicating arousal, and turned her head to look at the Maia, “Why would you….”
Halbrand shoved his leg between hers, hooking the back of her thigh with it, moving it up and spreading her wide. His foot rested on a footstool in front of the mirror, with her leg atop his.
Galadriel’s head snapped back to their reflection, and, at the explicitly erotic sight, she blushed hard and looked away, suddenly shy. But he wouldn’t let her.
“Tír, mime mel [1].” Halbrand grabbed her chin and made her look in the mirror. His fingers dipped between her soaked folds, massaged them and outlined the seam of her entrance. Eventually, they plunged into her throbbing cunt and imposed a steady rhythm – in and out, in and out, as deep as he could, rubbing against the rough spot a couple of inches inside her, making her moan while her pelvis moved in sync with his unrelenting digits.
His other arm pressed her torso tighter against him, and the fingers gripping her chin found their way into her mouth, muffling her needy moans. Galadriel sucked on them to the rhythm set by his other hand, making Halbrand groan while his lips and tongue kissed, licked, and suckled the tender skin of her neck.
She felt his hips joining the carnal dance, his stiff cock rubbing against her lower back.
“Mel me! [2]” His voice was hoarse, his fingers slippery with her slick, his gaze wild.
Galadriel, unable to speak, nodded frantically, agreeing to whatever he wanted to do to her as long as she would feel him inside her one more time.
Galadriel was ready to beg.
This wasn’t what Halbrand had in mind when he’d snuck into Galadriel’s quarters.
After a full day of discussions with the Elves and planning, he’d wanted to come here to talk and explain his decision to leave tomorrow. He’d wanted to sweetly make love to her, adore her, and show her how much she meant to him.
But when he, obscured by shadows of stone columns and lush plants, saw her undress and expose her infinitely beautiful body, and when he heard her delightfully obscene thoughts, his intentions were thrown onto the pyre of his burning lust.
Gentleness be damned! There would still be time for tenderness later… hopefully.
When Halbrand felt how wet and ready for him Galadriel was, how her neediness matched his, how the word “please” was playing on repeat in her mind – he lost it.
He abruptly pulled his fingers out of her hot pussy, making her whimper and look at him in confusion. His leg dropped from the footstool to the floor, making her stand on her shaky legs, unsupported by his body.
Galadriel turned around to face him – her knees shaking, her rosy nipples pebbled into tiny buds, her braid a frizzy mess – and glared at him as if he stopped doing something that she was rightfully entitled to.
Halbrand growled and grabbed the hanging end of the belt he’d just put on her hips and pulled her to him, her breasts splaying against his dark tunic. Leaning down, he captured her mouth in a wet, sloppy kiss, tangling his hands in her hair. There was no refinement in it, just hungry lust and a desperate need to have her as close as possible.
“Mmm…” Galadriel purred into his mouth and hooked her fingers on the belt wrapped around his tunic. She pressed her soft belly to his hard cock concealed by the fabric of his leggings, and swayed them from side to side, brushing against his manhood, eliciting a moan out of the man.
She laughed into his mouth and pushed off him and sauntered toward a lavishly adorned ottoman in the centre of the chamber.
“This one secret you cannot keep from me, no matter how much you’d try, Maia,” she sounded amused when she sat down and leaned back on her arms stretched behind.
“Oh Elf,” Halbrand scoffed and tutted, trying to sound as if he was having a casual conversation, not a charged exchange that, unavoidably, would lead to his cock ravaging her tight cunt, “You really don’t know when to be keep that sweet little mouth of your shut, do you?”
He slowly walked up to her and stopping at her feet, his eyes scanning her body displayed in this seductive pose. He took his time to admire every inch of her, trying to burn this image into his brain so he could carry it with him until the end of time.
He knew that she, just like him, tried to hide the effect he had on her, but her quickened breathing told him that she knew what was about to happen here.
“Oh?” Galadriel raised her eyebrow defiantly and her foot slid up his thigh and between his legs, finding his crotch to rub and knead his cock with her toes.
Halbrand hissed, catching her foot and angrily pushing it away. Oh, he wouldn’t let her play with him like that!
“On all fours, elf!” His guttural growl had a desired effect on Galadriel – she shuddered, and her breath hitched. He bared his teeth and ordered in a dangerously quiet tone, “Now.”
Her face hardened, and her lips pressed into a thin line, but after few breaths, she dutifully climbed onto the ottoman, rested her elbows and knees on the soft throw, her legs spread wide, with her deliciously glistening womanhood on full display, for his pleasure.
Halbrand nearly dropped to his knees, wanting to taste her, lick and nib at the swollen lips of her pussy, and hear her scream his name.
Still fully clothed, he tucked the hem of his tunic behind his belt and unlaced the leggings just enough to release his painfully throbbing cock from its tight confinement. He aligned himself behind Galadriel, rubbing his penis along the seam of her cunt, spreading her slick all over him.
Neither of them had time for any foreplay. Both were too close, too desperate.
Halbrand didn’t even have to hold onto his cock when he plunged into her all the way to his hilt in one fluid motion. A lewd squelching sound of them fucking filled the room, amplified by the high ceilings, making them moan in unison.
“Halbrand!” she moaned, scrunching the throw in her fists.
“Galadriel!” he growled, wrapping her braid around his wrist.
A little voice in the back of his head told him to slow down, but he couldn’t, and she couldn’t either – he felt Galadriel clenching around his penis, and he saw her pelvis bucking erratically.
Halbrand rested one knee on the bed and leaned over her, then lightly pulled at her braid, making her bend her back and neck enough for him to see her face filled with the sweet pain of oncoming orgasm.
“Show me how you fall apart, darling,” he whispered into her ear and increased the tempo of his thrusts.
He let go of her braid, letting Galadriel drop back onto her elbows and hide her face in a cushion. His hand immediately dived into her sweaty pubes, found her clit, pinched it and rolled it between his fingers.
The Elf, with her face pressed into the velvety fabric, let out a long loud moan as tremors of her climax wrecked her body. Her hips continued to move in search of the lost rhythm when Halbrand stopped to admire his handiwork, proud of his ability to make this glorious woman lose her senses.
When Galadriel stopped trembling, Halbrand pulled out, eliciting a mournful whine from his lover. He gently flipped her on her back and nearly came just seeing her red, sweaty face, messy hair, blush on her chest, and the slippery mess between her thighs.
He covered her body with his, wanting to look into her eyes when he filled her with his seed. Galadriel automatically lifted her legs to his sides, trapping him in this sweet musky vise.
She smiled dreamily and held onto his arms when he entered her feverishly, caging her head between his hands supporting his upper body.
“You’re mine, elf,” Halbrand growled possessively, punctuating each point with a slam of hips, “No one else’s!” he looked into her eyes, searching for an acknowledgment of this fact.
He lowered his head, so their noses touched and looked into her glassy eyes. Galadriel was positively beaming, like she was enjoying seeing him lose his mind… Like she was proud of the state she’d gotten him into.
“Say it!” he quietly seethed, and when she defiantly stayed silent, he peeled her hands off his arms and pinned them to the bed on both sides of her head. His hips continued the punishing dance.
“Let me tell you how it is, my sweet little elf,” he growled, and she visibly shivered. Her legs slipped off his hips and dangled in the air with her knees bent, spread even wider for his cock to have better access into her depths.
“You’re mine.” His lips attacked hers, licking, biting, and sucking. She responded with equal aggression.
“I don’t care that you’re still waiting for your missing husband.” He sniggered maliciously. Galadriel’s eyes went wide at that, and she gasped. Did his silly elf think he didn’t know?
“He didn’t claim you.” He felt smug, his pelvis pressed her hips down and held it for a moment, “I did!” He growled with primitive pride. She whimpered, gaping at him.
“On the raft.” He snarled at her and started vigorously thrusting again, “In the middle of an angry sea.”
Halbrand watched his glistening cock ramming into her wet pussy for a while, and then his eyes move up and fixed on Galadriel’s belly, where a miraculous little bean was slowly growing.
“And now you’re bearing the fruit of our joining,” he rasped out and suddenly changed the rhythm from punishing to slow, lengthy thrusts.
He felt elated to share what he’d sensed a while ago, and knew she’d been suspecting it too, but hiding it from everybody.
Galadriel looked at him with the surprise and fear of someone uncertain of his possible reaction, but when he gently kissed her temple, it was replaced with a teary smile. It filled him with joy and grief that he might never witness it again.
“We’re connected in so many ways already, but this child completes our union and binds us completely,” he said softly, freeing her wrists and wiping the tears off her delicate cheeks.
His hips continued the fluid, undulating movements while his mouth worshipped her rosy nipples and firm breasts.
“Halbrand,” she whispered pitifully, cupping his face with her small hands. He drove his cock in as deep as possible and held the position, feeling her inner muscles contracting around him, signalling that she was close again.
“Galadriel,” he whispered back, his voice strained. Not being able to withhold his ecstasy any longer, his hips renewed thrusting – fast and erratic this time.
When he felt moments away from coming again, his hand found the soft fuzz between her thighs and massaged her sweet bud frantically, wanting to make Galadriel climax with him.
And after the last waves of their shared orgasm passed, they cuddled, gazing into each other’s teary eyes, tightly embracing one another. The tenderness of each other’s touch and the soft kisses seemed too final, and it all seemed like it was the last time.
Because nothing was certain, and everything seemed hopeless.
“What will we name her?” Halbrand could hear a smile in Galadriel’s voice.Exhausted, they lay in her bed, where their activities had taken them at some point during the night.
It was adorned with muslin veils hanging off the ceiling and draped around it, with soft cushions thrown around on the silk sheets.
Dozens of candles illuminated the space so their eyes could feast on each other during the long hours of love-making.
Neither had a romantic bone in their bodies, so their sweet words quickly became teasing and quarrelsome. They preferred it this way as they knew their intimacy was enough of a confession.
“Her?” he smiled, tightening the embrace he had Galadriel in. She huffed a soft laugh and kissed his hairy, sweat-covered nipple, giving it a little lick.
Halbrand groaned, feeling his body awakening yet again, and raised his head off the pillow, making her meet him halfway for a lengthy kiss.
“M-hm,” Galadriel murmured and moved to sit astride atop of him, her silky slit already searching for friction against his quickly hardening cock.
He gave her hip a tap so she would lift her bum enough for his hand to drive his penis into her. Then, pressing her down against him, he bucked his hips up and stayed in this position for a while, drawing slow circles with his pelvis. His mesmerising lover shamelessly played with her tits while looking at him provocatively, a small smile making her look playful and naughty.
“Maybe it’s better that I might not be here, so our little princess doesn’t get spoiled rotten by her daddy,” Halbrand used his twisted sense of humour to drown the feeling of sorrow that crept up, making his heart clench in grief.
Galadriel saw right through him and seemed to understand his need not to go there. She grabbed his hands and kissed his fingers lovingly, before moving them onto her breast.
When she raised her head, he saw a tear trailing down her cheeks, and he wanted to say something uplifting, but she only shook her head vigorously.
He obeyed. Enthralled, he watched Galadriel lean forward, placing her hands on his chest for support as she slowly rode him, pressing her tits into his hands, her eyes never leaving him, her braid long gone.
This was how Halbrand would remember his Galadriel – a wild and passionate lover and, simultaneously, a vicious and relentless warrior.
His lover. His warrior.
A quiet knock on the door roused Halbrand from his slumber, and before he managed to detangle himself from the messy love nest of sheets, cushions and Galadriel’s limbs and hair, the door opened.
“Halbrand, it is time,” Elrond’s apologetic tone made Halbrand gulp, making him realise it was his last moment with Galadriel, who slept soundly with her face mushed into a pillow. He quietly raised on his elbow, looking at her, trying to sate his eyes.
When he looked at Elrond, who was standing in the doorway, the elf said, “Everybody will gather in the harbour soon. You should go now…” he hesitated and glimpsed at the woman in Halbrand’s arms, “…before things get complicated.”
Halbrand sat up and gazed at Galadriel one last time. Feeling great sorrow, he shook his head to sober up and jumped out of bed, gathering his scattered clothing but leaving his belt – her trophy - behind.
Naked and not bothered to cover his manhood, he walked past blushing Elrond but stopped in the doorway to pat the elf on the shoulder and, without looking at him, said quietly, “Too late for that, my friend. Far too late.”
The moment Galadriel’s felt an empty spot where Halbrand’s warm body had laid, her eyes snapped open. After a few moments, she heard Halbrand’s voice saying, “Too late for that, my friend. Far too late,” and she felt her body go stiff and her stomach drop.
It was time.
She shot up from the bed, rolling her eyes at Elrond’s shocked gulp, and chaotically started dressing, ignoring the telling muscle pain and the sticky mess between her legs.
“Galadriel, are you sure it’s a good idea?” Elrond turned his back to her, but she could hear doubt and worry in his voice.
“Yes, my friend,” she said hastily, twisting her hair into a braid, “I think it’s a great idea.”
She congratulated herself on being perceptive enough to sneak out in the middle of the night to corner Elrond and force him to tell her everything that’d been said at the council meeting. Without it, she’d be clueless as Halbrand hadn’t told her anything.
Galadriel smiled at the memory of sleeping Halbrand – on his stomach, arms spread wide, drooling onto the pillow, snoring like a Balrog, his limbs tangled in the sheets.
Such a graceful lover, she smirked and bit her lip, smiling, remembering how much she enjoyed his rough sensuality and unsophisticated attitude in bed.
She touched her belly, and her amused smile became wistful for a moment, to turn into a grimace of determination. She wrapped Halbrand’s belt around her hips almost angrily, and sheathed her dagger so forcefully she nearly ripped the leather loops holding it attached to the belt.
She would make sure Halbrand returned and made good on his promises. She would make sure her daughter didn’t grow up fatherless.
When done, she asked her dear friend, “Is everything ready?”
He nodded, “But I’m not sure if you should do it – it may hurt too much if things go awry!” and frowned.
Galadriel gently touched his cheek and pleaded, “I must do it! I must protect the father of my child!”
Elrond’s eyes went wide with shock, and he took several steps back.
“Ch-ch-child?” he stuttered, making her smile – her dear friend, an eloquent poet, not being able to articulate his thought was a rare experience she would cherish for a long time.
Galadriel picked her travel sack and gave Elrond a friendly kiss on his cheek, “And I may even let you marry her one day.”
She winked at him, and, seeing his dumbfounded expression, she laughed kindly and left the gaping Elrond in the middle of her chambers.
Notes:
[1] Tír, mime mel – (Quenya) Watch, my love.
[2] Mel me – (Quenya) Love me.
Chapter 13
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
On day one of their journey to the sea coast, when their unassuming sail boat smoothly moved with the Glanduin river current, Halbrand was too preoccupied at first with brooding to pay any attention to the landscape they passed through. That changed, at the brink of night, when they had to moor for the night, because the tricky waters of the Swanfleet marshes could easily lead them astray and trap them in the shallows. They also needed to be rested for the challenging day ahead, filled with fifty miles of treacherous marshes, before they would eventually reach the city of Tharbad.
He trusted that the small crew of three Humans – non-Elven, non-Númenorean locals of Eriador - would take the boat safely to the port of Lond Daer, where Isildur and Morinehtar would board a ship going to Númenor.
Seated on the deck at the beam end of the boat, Halbrand reflected on their journey's sad aura and looked towards where Isildur, the young Númenórean, was having a quiet conversation with the Istar. Fortunately, Isildur didn’t seem too upset to be leaving Middle-earth. Halbrand felt that Morinehtar had much to do with that – the unlikely duo they made had grown into more of a father-son-like relationship with each day.
A quiet thump of the boat bumping off the side of a jetty announced their arrival at their resting point, and he looked around at the grim, treeless landscape draped in the greys of the evening. Even though he had heard the stories about the folk of Númenor destroying the forests to build their majestic ships with no regard for the locals, it hadn’t prepared him for the depressing view of what had used to be a rich forestland.
“Sad view, isn’t it?” Halbrand groaned at the sound of Galadriel’s voice and turned to face outwards, folding his arms atop the hull and resting his chin on them.
He wasn’t ready to forgive her for using her cunning ways to join him on this journey. Still, he had to admit, unwillingly, he felt relieved to have her there, though he’d rather kiss a troll than admit it out loud.
Halbrand reminisced about the morning’s events when he, wearing the same clothes as the previous day, had left his quarters quietly, not looking back for fear that he would change his mind and return upstairs to Galadriel’s warm embrace.
It had been a bizarre walk to the harbour, with great numbers of the citizens of Ost-in-Edhil flanking the street to get a glimpse of a Maia. Awe-filled whispers had surrounded him as if he’d been levitating above the crowd. He hadn’t – he’d felt like a prisoner dragging his feet to the awaiting gallows.
Halbrand tried to remember the farewell the King and Celebrimbor had bid him, but it was a blur as, at the time, all his attention had been focused on an oddly sheepish-looking trio – Elrond, Morinehtar, and Isildur, who’d been waiting for him by the boat, nervously glancing at each other.
Only when they left the safety of the harbour and the mighty Elven city behind, the strange feeling he’d had since boarded the vessel suddenly made sense when Galadriel stepped out of her hideout underneath the sleeping canopy, revealing her presence to an astounded Halbrand.
Admittedly, Halbrand pondered sourly, he should’ve reacted differently – but, for a reason unknown to him, he hadn’t wanted her to see how pleased it had made him to have her with him. Instead, he had wordlessly stomped away to sulk in a corner, like a teenager, putting all possible walls around his mind so the Elf couldn’t sense his true feelings.
Why? Halbrand didn’t know. Now, he felt silly, but because he was too proud and felt bad remembering the hope and shy smile on Galadriel’s face being replaced with bemusement and disappointment, he continued acting like an ass.
So he didn’t react to Galadriel’s attempt at conversation and stared into the distance, grinding his teeth and keeping his thoughts tucked away from the elf snooping around his mind.
“Are you planning on sulking for the entirety of our voyage, Halbrand?” He could hear laughter in her voice, and he was pretty sure she’d rolled her eyes.
“Of course, he is – he’s a spoiled brat after all,” Morinehtar's voice was filled with sarcasm, so Halbrand turned to glare at the wizard who, accompanied by Isildur, joined them on the crates and handed out pieces of the lembas bread.
“Is he?” the young Man curiously inquired, shoving his entire portion into his mouth and chewing it loudly. The Istar scoffed and shook his head at this display of gluttony.
“Oromë always had a soft spot for Dréfengást and allowed him to cross lines no other Maia would even dream of crossing. So, the whispers about the possibility of him being the Vala’s son started spreading.” Morinehtar snickered maliciously and threw a piece of lembas at Halbrand, who now was piercing him with an openly hostile stare.
One day I’ll shut your mouth for good, he seethed in his mind, knowing he would never be able to purposefully harm his old friend, no matter how annoying he was.
“I was not born, you ginger fool, and you know it!” Halbrand gritted out through his teeth, sick of millennia of gossiping amongst the Valinoreans.
“It matters not,” the wizard smirked, mending his hat. “The word has travelled around Aman for long enough. And on top of that, Oromë and his wife, Vána, have never denied any of the gossip, so this has become common knowledge.”
“Yet another reason to despise the Noldor Elves,” Halbrand grumbled and sniffed, folding his arms on his chest.
“Oh?” Galadriel’s amused tone made him furrow his brows and obstinately tighten his arms fold. She sat close, leaning against him, unabashed by the audience, and smirked, raising her brows, “And how’s that going for you, Maia?”
For a moment, he looked at her and marvelled at how beautiful she looked in the blue outfit – a sky-blue tunic matching her eyes and darker blue leggings. The look was completed with his belt, auburn leather boots, and coat. Her braided hair hung over her shoulder, with stray strands caressing her rosy cheeks.
“Not so well, elf,” he deadpanned, trying to contain the smile tugging at his lips.
They gazed at each other for a while until Isildur cleared his throat and said, sounding rather uncomfortable, “Shall we rest before tomorrow?”
Morinehtar and Halbrand watched each other for several seconds before the Istar sent him a rare and genuine smile, got up from the wooden crate he was sitting on, and left for the night.
Galadriel, without a word, climbed onto Halbrand’s lap, straddled him and lay down on his chest, tucking her face under his chin and wrapping her arms around his torso.
“Goodnight, Dréfengást – son of Oromë.” He heard the laughter in her quiet voice and smiled, noting he rather liked the sound of his Valinorean name in her mouth.
“I’m not anyone’s son,” his grumpy tone couldn’t hide his contentment with the feeling of Galadriel’s warm body pressed against him.
“Fine then,” she murmured. “Goodnight, Dréfengást – father of our daughter,” she whispered sleepily, and he felt her mind drift off.
His heart pounded when the truth hit him again – he was to be a dad indeed.
On day two, they travelled through the treacherous marshes silently. Everybody was focused on watching for any possible dangers hiding under the water.
That lasted until Halbrand, too busy daydreaming about the family he could have in less than a year, failed to spot a submerged old barge wreck. If not for Morinehtar, who promptly reacted and, with the help of a little bit of Maiar magic, managed to keep their boat from becoming one of the sad habitants of this grim graveyard-like bogland.
As it turned out, the wreck was home to a Rain-Drake. The wizard’s spells must’ve vexed the monster as it shot out from the shattered interior and slithered around their vessel frantically, creating a whirl that made the boat spin around. Everybody in it grabbed the mast and the hull to avoid being tossed around.
Halbrand knew he shouldn’t be excited – but he was. The thrill of the hunt was already running through him, and he couldn’t stop grinning when he ran to the beam and, holding onto it, he observed the serpent, waiting for an opportune moment to get hold of the creature and tame it.
Eventually, the hissing serpent emerged from the water, its sharp teeth bared and a split tongue viciously lashing at Halbrand. As quickly as the song of songs allowed him, he conjured a thick silver chain and flung it, looping it tightly around the monster’s neck.
“Everybody, hold onto something!” he yelled a warning, looping his end of the chain around the beam. The boat jerked forward when the drake thrashed to free itself. Everybody yelped.
Halbrand turned to the boat crew and commanded, “Sails up! And take the rudder out, or it will get smashed!”
Suddenly animated, the gaping crew members immediately followed the orders, and two rushed towards the back. One of the Eriadorean s nearly got knocked out by the boom while rigging up the now-useless sails.
Halbrand looked at Galadriel and motioned her to join him. She got up from sitting in the cargo bay and stumbled toward him, grabbing his stretched-out hand.
“Give me your dagger, Galadriel!” he ordered, trying to outshout the beastly roar and hiss.
She unsheathed her dagger, handed it to him and, clasping his hand together with hers, she closed his fingers around the hilt, shouting, “Don’t make me regret this!”
All he had time for was a smirk and a quick peck on the tip of her nose, and then he jammed the blade into the chain links, effectively blocking the chain from unwrapping from the beam.
With his movements unrestricted again, he jumped on top of the taut chain and rushed toward the drake, ignoring Galadriel’s frightened cries.
The beast thrashed its head and shrieked when Halbrand straddled its snout, grabbing onto its horn-like projections above the reptilian eyes he stared into.
He had never been sure why it had always worked so easily for him, but whispering spells straight into the creature’s mind and the steady gaze he and the Rain-Drake exchanged did the trick, and soon the serpent was calm and pliable to his command.
“Tulime ana our safetime, mime nur [1],” Halbrand said gently to the creature before returning to his astonished audience.
The next few hours must’ve been one of the smoothest voyages Swanfleet had ever seen. The boat, pulled by the Rain-Drake, swiftly moved through the river, avoiding the marshy shallows and other traps, and allowing everybody to relax - or at least try to.
The bickering between the Halbrand and Morinehtar filled the rest of the day. During that time, they argued about anything and everything – from the irresponsible use of magic by the wizard and Halbrand’s showing off to impress the girl to how the Mage wore his hat, or even about the amount of lembas Halbrand had the audacity to consume.
When they finally saw Tharbad’s bridge and the city’s structures sitting on both sides of the Gwathló River, Morinehtar threatened to turn Halbrand into a mosquito if he didn’t order the drake to slow down. That’s when one of the Eriadorean s suddenly yelled at the Maiar to shut up.
To Halbrand’s surprise, it worked – the astonishment at the sailor's boldness fought for dominance in his mind with a hefty respect for the man for having the balls to scold the Maiar as if they were unruly children.
He wasn’t sure the man – named Eóthain – felt the same way as his rapidly paled face, and the quivering lip was a sure sign of fear, not pride – so the Maia felt obliged to soothe Man’s nerves.
He walked up to Eóthain, but the man stepped back, and his eyes went so wide they nearly popped out of his skull. Halbrand stopped, raised his hands in a show of no bad intent, and said in a conciliatory tone, “Worry not – the old man has a lot of bark in him but no bite. You’re quite safe with us.”
That didn’t seem to help in any way – the Eriadorean just gaped at Halbrand, looking paralyzed, and his friends’ visible apprehension wasn’t reassuring.
“I don’t think it’s Morinehtar our friend here is afraid of, Lord Halbrand,” Isildur chuckled.
“I’m no friend of yours, Númenórean!” Eóthain said through his teeth, still staring at Halbrand. The young man’s face fell instantly, and he furrowed his brow in confusion.
It wasn’t news that the locals detested the Númenórean colonists who had settled in these lands and destroyed flora and fauna of Eriador. Still, Isildur didn’t seem to be aware of the rather complicated history of the two peoples.
“Enough, men!” Galadriel’s commanding voice made everybody turn and look at the Elf, who motioned at the city’s darkening skyline, “We are nearing the river port and need to make further plans.”
She looked at Halbrand and nodded toward the drake, which effortlessly dragged the boat down the inland river delta, saying, “Is it safe to release the monster here?”
He gave her one decisive nod, walked up to the chain, and touched it, making the beast stop, turn its head, and wait patiently for the Maia’s next command.
Halbrand grabbed Galadriel’s dagger and forcefully yanked it out, letting the chain slide off the boat and the creature’s neck, disappearing into thin air.
The Rain-Drake didn’t hesitate, and the moment it was freed, it dived deep below the water’s surface and swam back toward the marshes.
On day three, it became evident that the Maiar, the Elf, and the Númenórean would have to travel independently as the Eriadorean Men had, after they’d moored in the port, rushed off the boat and never returned. The word of dangerous wizards spread too quickly, and they couldn’t outrun it to find a replacement crew.
On days four and five, carried by the strong current of Gwathló and helped by the easterly winds, they were getting close to Lond Daer. The conversations were focused on Isildur and his homecoming. Nobody even dared think about discussing Halbrand’s return to Valinor – this was a taboo subject, and Halbrand wouldn’t take kindly to any attempts to talk about his possibly doomed fate.
On day six, just before dawn, they arrived in the majestic sea harbour of Lond Daer Enedh. Eriador. Built by the Sons of the Sea – the Númenóreans – housing the finest ships Middle-earth had ever seen, this harbour was a gateway for those travelling west – toward Númenor.
Mile-long wharves hugged the coastline on both sides of the river delta. The city’s buildings rose in the background – tall sky-reaching towers of temples, lighthouses, and observatories dominated the skyline. The noise of the bustling port, the night-hunting birds, and the entertaining inhabitants made Halbrand think that this was one of the few places that awake nearly all-day and all-night, and he loved seeing the golden halo of street lights spreading above the city.
On day seven, Isildur and Morinehtar were to board a merchant’s ship going to Isildur’s homeland, and Halbrand and Galadriel were to continue across the Seas to the Undying Lands.
The young Númenórean, as Captain Elendil’s son, had helped Halbrand secure a new ship – better equipped, sturdier, faster, and with sleeping cabins. He also managed to organise a small crew of six Númenórean sailors who would help them sail through the capricious waters of the Sundering Seas. It was a great relief to Halbrand and Galadriel, as neither of them was a great sailor.
“That lad will be a great leader one day,” Morinehtar’s voice startled Halbrand, who didn’t hear the wizard approaching his spot on the pier where both ships were being prepared for their voyages. He was too enthralled by the view of Galadriel, wearing a loose linen dress – not unlike the one she had worn when they’d met for the first time. She was talking to Isildur, who seemed calmed and composed - they had extensively talked about his decision the previous day, and the young man’s mind was set.
Halbrand turned to his friend but didn’t get up off the mooring bollard and nodded, “So he will.” Squinting his eyes in the morning sun, he wrapped his leather cloak tighter around himself and added, “I will miss him.”
He looked back at Galadriel, and after a few moments, he sniffed, a little embarrassed to admit being so soft, but decided to confess anyway, “And I will miss you, you snarky bastard.”
No answer came, but he could hear a scraping sound, and when he glimpsed at his friend, he saw him dragging a large woven fishing basket and sitting beside Halbrand.
“I won’t say I’ll miss you too if that’s what you expect me to say, Dréfengást,” Morinehtar said, picking at his blue coat’s fraying hem. Halbrand couldn’t fathom why the wizard was so attached to this old thing, especially since all other pieces of his garment were of the finest silks gifted by the Elves.
“No, I don’t expect you to,” Halbrand said quietly, looking pensively at the wooden deck below his feet, “I just wanted you to know how much your support and friendship mean to me…in case we never meet again.”
Morinehtar said nothing. He didn’t have to – they both knew how murky the future was and that what Halbrand was about to do could lead to his perishing.
The wizard was to go to Númenor to warn the Men about Sauron’s return, hoping they’d listen and believe him. Failing that, Morinehtar would go to Rhûn in the East, where he already had some allies, where his chances of convincing as many tribes as possible to create a coalition against Mordor were much greater.
“What chances, do you think, you will end up in the sad oul Pit?” The wizard frowned and finally looked at Halbrand, who shrugged, unsure whether his voice wouldn’t break if he tried to say anything.
“Hmm…” the Istar shook his head, “That senseless nobility of yours baffles me.” He looked toward Galadriel and continued, “I get why you want to do it now, but, at the same time, I don’t understand why you’d risk the chance to be with your newly minted family just to clear your conscience?”
Halbrand wasn’t surprised at all that Morinehtar knew about the baby, but he was a little taken back by his friend’s almost admonishing him for the choices he’d made. His eyes snapped to Galadriel, who was now strolling toward them, leaving Isildur by his ship’s gangway.
“A few thousand years, at best, with them in Middle-earth, isn’t enough for me if I can’t have an eternity at their side,” he looked at Morinehtar, “I have to take my chances and hope I’ll be forgiven.”
His friend stroked his beard and nodded slowly, watching the Elf, “Let’s make a deal, Dréfengást,” he smirked at Halbrand, who raised his brows, wondering what possible deal they could strike mere minutes before their departure.
“I’ll mind the Elf and your pup for you, if you promise me not to get yourself into trouble with the Valar and to stay in your carnal body, and to not end up in a formless existence,” Morinehtar said jokingly, but Halbrand knew he meant every word.
Speechless, he just nodded and stood up, stretching his arms toward the wizard, who also got up. Looking into each other’s eyes, they clasped their forearms, sealing their pact and, maybe, their fate.
“Varna journeime, mime nur[2],” Halbrand said, feeling Galadriel’s presence at his side.
“Far ġesund, broþor [3],” Morinehtar replied quietly. Halbrand could swear he heard a note of sadness in his comrade’s voice. “See you on the other side, Dréfengást.” His final words sounded more like a threat, but Halbrand had to smile, recognising veiled affection behind them.
The wizard banged his staff off the deck a few times – that had always been his nervous tick - and left hastily, giving Galadriel a restrained nod with an “I’ll be seeing you soon, my Lady” before he hopped onto the gangplank and disappeared aboard the ship.
Notes:
[1] “Tulime ana our safetime, mime nur” – (Quenya); “Lead to our safety, my friend.”
[2] “Varna journeime, mime nur.” – Quenya; “Safe journey, my friend.”
[3] “Far ġesund, broþor.” – Old English; “Farewell, brother.”
Chapter 14
Summary:
a bit smutty
Chapter Text
On day fifteen, the fear started to creep up on Galadriel. It made her a little too distant during the day when she would keep away from everybody. And it made her a little too clingy at night when she would order Halbrand to undress so he would hold her in a warm embrace - as a reminder they were indeed alive, not some ghostly creatures trapped in the middle of the sea, waiting for their tormented souls to be freed of this uncertainty.
So, during the nights, he cradled her tightly or quietly made sweet love to her so the crew wouldn’t hear anything. During the day, Galadriel would act coldly, irritated by him seemingly not being too bothered by what would happen any day now.
But she knew he was – she could see into Halbrand’s mind when he was unguarded, and his thoughts constantly swirled around her, their baby, the Valar’s anger, and all possible scenarios of his meeting with his old masters. And there was fear flooding his mind – not so much for his life as for never being able to see their child.
“The wind is picking up from the east,” the voice of captain Háryth startled Galadriel. She turned around from her post on the upper deck of the cog ship where she was looking back in the direction of Middle-earth.
Galadriel had learned that the captain was one of the few Númenóreans who still held the Elves in high regard, honouring the old pacts between the two people. She had offered her services to Isildur.
“We will be able to sail faster, but it might get choppy, so I suggest you shelter under the deck and bind yourself to something, my Lady,” Háryth said not unkindly, bowed her head, and marched away, giving orders to her crew.
It was curious how smooth and untroubled the voyage had been so far. Halbrand casually had thrown out that it was probably thanks to Ulmo, who might have been able to curb his servant Ossë’s rather nasty moods. It made sense to Galadriel – the sea was calm, the wind blew from just the right direction, and they hadn’t been bothered by any deepwater monsters.
She didn’t like it. It was as if the Valar couldn’t wait to put their hands on Halbrand.
She also didn’t like these condescending thoughts bouncing around her mind.
But they’re trying to take him away from me; her mind conjured an excuse for the resentment she felt toward the Lords of Arda as she took shelter under the upper deck where Halbrand had already waited for her with a smile, opened arms, and a bowl of food.
“Come here, my brave Elven protector,” he chuckled, shuffling to the side on his cot and patting the spot invitingly.
“Stop snooping around my head, you nosy oaf,” Galadriel grumbled but had to smile, seeing his expression of feigned innocence. She plopped beside him and took the offering.
For a while, they sat in silence, eating their food, listening to the creaking of the wood - the wind picked up and started rocking the ship as the waves hit it, spraying the deck with salty water.
“I’m happy to have you here with me, Galadriel,” Halbrand said out of nowhere, watching another wave swelling above the starboard. So did the Elf, and that, in conjunction with the morning sickness she’d been experiencing lately, made her feel nauseous.
“I know you are.” Galadriel rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes, feeling the bile rising with each ship's sway.
Halbrand guffawed, “And who’s the nosy oaf now, my Lady?”
“Still you,” she mumbled, sweat dewing on her forehead, and she realised there was no stopping nausea. She sat straight and frantically looked around for anything she could vomit into.
Galadriel closed her eyes and took a few deep, calming breaths, but it was too late.
Halbrand’s laughter died, and his spot next to her suddenly emptied. The moment her stomach gave up, and she fell onto her knees to throw up, a wooden bucket appeared in front of her, and his hands pushed the sweaty hair off her face and helpfully held it back.
When Galadriel was done, she was exhausted and felt weak – she could swear she’d been hovering over the bucket for hours, not mere moments. Halbrand scooped her off the floor and carried to the sleeping mat in the furthest corner, where the sun and seawater didn’t reach.
“Have a rest here,” he cooed, gently laying her atop blankets. The elf was too tired to keep her eyes open, and when she suddenly felt a cool, wet compress on her forehead, she felt like drifting away.
With the last spark of consciousness, Galadriel grabbed Halbrand’s hand and placed it on her still-flat belly.
“It’s your fault, Maia,” she murmured lovingly and, accompanied by his chuckle, allowed sleep to take her.
On day twenty-four, Galadriel woke up to shimmering smudges of golden dust-like clouds marking the sky and the crew gaping at the spectacle in wonder.
Standing at the beam, she gulped loudly, knowing it meant they were getting close, and soon Halbrand would disappear from her life for days... months… forever?
As if sensing her turmoil, the man walked up behind her, pulled her into his warm embrace, and pressed her back to his chest, his hand cradling her belly protectively and his head resting atop hers.
“It’s spectacular, isn’t it?” he whispered, and his hand reached for the sky, fingers gently tracing the distant shapes of the unusual clouds.
“It’s terrifying,” she whispered back, clasping his hand splayed on her belly with both her hands. She felt a slight breath of air as he huffed out a laugh.
Galadriel watched Halbrand’s fingers drawing patterns in the air. Soon, to her utter astonishment, the golden dust floating in the air started gathering around his digits, swirling around them in intricate patterns and eventually surrounding his forearm.
The enchanted gasps from Háryth and her crew mirrored the Elf’s amazement.
“Terrifyingly beautiful,” Galadriel corrected herself, her eyes greedily taking in the magical show.
“You sure you don’t want to go to Valinor with me?” She heard a smile in his quiet voice as he slowly moved his hand in patterns only known to him.
“I’m sure I want to go wherever you go, but I can’t set my foot on Aman’s soil,” she said soberly and frowned, “Not until Sauron is defeated.”
At her words, the golden particles surrounding his hand suddenly retreated and dispersed into nothing.
Halbrand sighed, “Come with me.” He grabbed her hand, and as they passed by Háryth and her men on the way to the crew cabin, he asked the captain to give them privacy.
It took the Númenóreans out of the shock, and they dutifully moved to the front of the ship, allowing the couple to have a private moment together.
Halbrand said in a no-nonsense tone as soon as they were alone, with his hand stretched out with the palm up expectantly, “Give me your dagger, Galadriel.”
“You’re very attached to it,” she smirked at him, but knowing by now there was no point in questioning him, she unsheathed the weapon and handed it to the Maia, as they both sat at a table situated in the middle of the underdeck area.
Without a word, he took a crystal vial in a silver casing out of the inner pocket of his kaftan, and, humming softly a melody known only to the Ainur, he forcefully pressed the blade to his forearm, drawing blood. It was an odd mixture of regular red blood and glowing blue flecks swirling in the blood as if they were sentient.
“Is it mithril?” shocked Galadriel whispered in awe, looking at the bottle being filled up with the glowing liquid.
“Not as much mithril as the light trapped in it,” he said with a faint smile, sealing the bottle with a silver stopper, “With time, the blood will fall apart and dissipate, but the light, and my essence in it, will stay.
Halbrand handed the vial to confused Galadriel, whose mind quickly went to places she didn’t like and that made her annoyed with him.
“I don’t want a souvenir of your visit to Middle-earth, Halbrand!” She jumped to her feet, her fingers clenching around the bottle’s neck and pressing it to her chest. Her heart was telling her that wasn’t his intent, but her mouth was quick to spew insults.
“Do you think you could just show up, have fun with Sauron, try out a human life, knock up a silly, naïve elf, and return home as if nothing has happened?” She paced back and forth, knowing that every word she’d just said was not valid. But she was hurting and scared that this was their final goodbye and she’d never see him again.
“Galadriel…” Halbrand stood up and stepped toward her, a tender smile forming on his lips.
“No!” she said sternly and continued pacing, but when she turned around to make another loop, he blocked her way, grabbed her arms firmly and held onto her elbows, immobilising her.
“Galadriel, calm down.” He let out a soft chuckle, and his lips found her forehead, making her lean into his embrace and close her eyes, inhaling his musky scent. How did he still smell of a dew-covered morning forest in the middle of a salty sea?
“I know none of those things is true,” she whispered, sniffling pathetically, and nuzzled at the base of his neck, where she found a fragment of exposed skin.
That was as close to an apology as she would ever humble herself to.
Halbrand seemed to understand, judging by his amused huff. He gently grabbed her chin and made her look up at him, his smiling eyes filling her with an overwhelming feeling of love and longing.
“I know you do, love,” he purred and softly kissed the tip of her nose, “So listen to me carefully as I’m not sure how much time we have together,” his voice changed from playful to sombre in an instance, “They have found me, and it won’t be long before they’re here to take me to Valinor.”
His hand encircled her waist as he continued, “This,” his eyes glanced at the vial she was still clutching to her chest, “This is a way we can connect while I’m gone.”
Galadriel’s brows knitted in confusion as she also glanced at the vial, not entirely understanding what he meant by that.
“Pour a drop of my blood into a bowl of clear water from any of the Elven realms, and you’ll be able to get an insight into my life, and we’ll be able to sense each other….” He switched to the mind-speech, “…and communicate this way.”
The elf’s heart lurched with joy at the thought that she could still contact him, and she felt the calm flooding her.
“But be aware,” Halbrand’s voice darkened, “This also may give you visions, and you won’t know if they’re the past, present, or future.” He smirked, “But, with your abilities, you will learn how to control them – I’m sure of it, elf.” He winked at her.
She had always ignored her abilities, for which some would call her a witch, finding them more trouble than they were worth. She had failed to find any use for the Valinorean magic running through her… But maybe now, she could harness that power and put it to good use!
Suddenly, she realised how small the vial was and, pointlessly, attempted to assess how many drops of blood it could hold.
“But what if I use up all of your blood?” She bit her lip, looking worriedly at the man.
Halbrand laughed and shook his head, “There’s enough of it for you to reach me over a thousand times.” He lowered his face, and their noses touched, “And I’m not planning to be gone for long anyway, elf,” he purred, and his lips descended on hers, his tongue urging them to open and let him find her silky warmth inside.
Galadriel immediately melted into the kiss, her greedy tongue swirled around him as she felt impatient lust pooling in her underbelly, lust she needed to sate right away!
She pushed him backwards and smiled triumphantly into his mouth when his legs hit the table, and he plopped down on it with a heavy grunt. Without wasting a moment, she slipped between his thigh, grabbed the back of his head, crossed her arms behind it, and deepened the kiss, eliciting a soft groan from her Maia.
She was glad they’d still have a way to connect, but it pained her greatly she would no longer be able to feel the heat of his body, inhale his intoxicating scent, or climax with him buried deep inside her.
She needed to make it count!
She put the vial away on the table, and her hands flew to the bulge straining against his trousers and cupped it, rubbing it with a pleased hum. It was awarded with a gravelly grunt… and Halbrand’s hand suddenly clasped her wrist, stopping her.
She moaned impatiently, and her other hand tried to reach for his cock, but it also was prevented, and now, Galadriel, frustrated, let out a petulantly hostile growl and bit his bottom lip – hard!
It didn’t help that Halbrand guffawed and cackled his head off, not bothered by his bleeding lip one bit!
The lusty side of Galadriel didn’t want to give up on the chance to fuck her Maia one last time. However, the High Elf side of Galadriel wanted to stomp away and lick her wounds of rejection in some dark corner.
“Ha. Ha. Laugh it up, low-man,” she said, her tone condescending. “And once you’re done, you can throw yourself into the Void for all I care.” She wiggled out from Halbrand’s grasp and stepped back, jutting her chin out, knowing she was being childish.
Halbrand’s laughter died out when he grabbed her by her waist, spun her and sat her on the table. Now, he was between her thighs, and now it was him greedily kissing her.
“This is no place or time for this,” he growled into her mouth, and his hot lips marked a wet path to her ear, and he whispered, “But believe me when I say I’d want nothing more than to lay across this table and fuck you until you beg for mercy.”
“Why won’t you then…” She whimpered when she suddenly felt his teeth biting into her ear.
“I don’t have enough time to properly fuck you, love” he purred, and his face appeared before her, “But don’t worry – I won’t leave you in this state.”
He smiled darkly, and suddenly his hands hiked up her dress to her waist, and he grabbed her hips, pushing her deeper onto the table, then turned around and grabbed a nearby stool.
Knowing what was coming now, Galadriel, panting, lifted her legs. With the heels of her feet braced against the edge of the table, she spread her thighs wide just as Halbrand turned back to her.
He smiled with satisfaction and placed the stool in front of her, his eyes set on her soaking-wet underwear.
“Such an eager little elf,” he chuckled and sat down, glancing toward the exit to see if they were still alone. He placed his hands on her thighs, opened them even further, then bunched the fabric in his fists and ripped it, exposing her cunt with one vigorous move.
Galadriel watched him intently, leaning on her arms stretched behind her. She sat up a little – she wanted to see.
She had to see.
“Halbrand…” She nearly climaxed just from seeing his face so close to her pussy that she could feel his heavy breath down there. She didn’t care if anybody might come in now – she was too far gone to care for decency.
The first broad swipe of his tongue along her slit made her clench so hard that he must’ve seen or felt her muscles contracting frantically as he softly tutted, amused, “Be a good girl and let me eat you out for a bit longer than a several of meager licks, sweetheart.” He raised his head and looked at her with a tender smile, “Can you do it for me, love?”
“No,” she said soundlessly, vigorously shaking her head.
Halbrand looked at her for a moment as if trying to memorise her in this disheveled state.
He lowered his head again, hooking one arm around her thigh, splaying it on her lower belly to hold her down, while the two fingers of the other hand went straight for her entrance and, with a squelching sound, smoothly slid into her.
At the same time, his lips and tongue attacked her folds and the little sensitive bud crowning her womanhood.
Watching his ministrations in a mesmerised haze, Galadriel grabbed his messy locks and held onto them, moving her hips to the rhythm of his fingers. Soon, before she was mentally ready, she came with a sharp cry, muffled by Halbrand’s hand, which shot up in the last moment and covered her mouth.
Waiting for aftershocks of her orgasm to pass, he rested his face on her mound, kissed it soundly, and lightly said, “Now, this is the souvenir I’m taking with me, my Lady.”
“Souvenir?” confused Galadriel breathed out, her mind still reeling from all the pleasure.
“Yes. Souvenir.” He chuckled and changed his position, pressing his face to one of her still-wide-spread thighs so they could look at each other. His fingers gently combed through her curls, and his thumb caressed her swollen folds.
“This sight,” he said dreamily, looking up at her, “I’m the only one that has ever been privy to this sight – this is my souvenir. If I were allowed to keep only one memory with me – this would be it.”
“Then this moment will be mine,” Galadriel smirked, “The mighty Maia innocently gazing up at me from between my thighs.”
Halbrand laughed and placed a warm kiss on her clit, making her toes curl, “Fair enough, elf, I’ll let you have….”
“Ahem,” someone cleared their throat, and Halbrand immediately covered Galadriel with the skirt of her dress. She jumped off the table, feeling the relentless heat flooding her cheeks, and turned to face a very uncomfortable-looking Númenórean.
Halbrand, on the other hand, didn’t look embarrassed in any way. He slowly got up off his stool, his face still glistening with her juices, shamelessly grinned at her, and turned to the sailor who had interrupted them, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Yes?” He asked casually and turned to wink at her. Galadriel rolled her eyes despite her face burning like Orodruin’s hellfires.
“T-t-the winds stopped,” the Man stuttered, nervously crumpling the hem of his sleeve, the redness of his face probably matching the tone of her blush, “We cannot move in any direction.”
Finally, puzzled, he looked at Halbrand and continued, “It’s like we’re being held in place by some invisible anchor, my Lord.”
Galadriel felt panic rising, and Halbrand’s suddenly crestfallen expression assured her that it was time, and soon, he would be gone.
“Thank you,” the Maia nodded, “You may go now.” The Man left promptly, tripping on his own feet.
Halbrand turned to Galadriel with a sad smile, “Don’t wait for me for too long, Galadriel,” his hand cupped her cheeks, and she leaned into it, feeling the treacherous tears gathering in her eyes, “If I’m not back within a fortnight, you should leave.”
“I won’t leav…” she protested, but he put his finger on her mouth, silencing her.
“Listen to me - we don’t have much time!” he urged her. “I’ll find you, and until then, we have a means of connecting with each other,” he said as he picked the vial from the table, “Just don’t use it for the next few weeks, just to be safe,” he warned her, taking a piece of string he’d had in his little travel pouch and tying it to the vial’s silver casing, creating a necklace.
“Why?” she whispered, feeling tears running down her cheeks, and allowed him to put the necklace on her neck.
“It’s technically against the laws and rules the Valar love going on about,” he rolled his eyes, “So keep it to yourself and refrain from doing anything for the time being.”
He cradled her face in both hands, wiping her tears with his thumbs, his eyes searching hers. When she looked at him, the dam of tears broke, and she wept bitterly, fisting the front of his kaftan.
“Shhh…” he cooed, taking her into his arms, “It’s all going to be fine, my love.”
“Please come back to us,” she croaked and sniffled, her ear against his thudding heart.
The only answer she got was his arms tightening the embrace as he gently rocked them to a soundless melody.
The first sunbeams peaked through the thick golden clouds when Halbrand gathered enough courage to turn around and look at the cog where Galadriel and the Númenóreans were fast asleep, enchanted by a magic spell.
The Valinoreans came for him in the quiet hour before dawn, and now, he was aboard their golden ship, moving smoothly – as if it was gliding in the air just above the water towards Valinor.
He sighed heavily, turned away from the heartbreaking view of the distant ship, and faced the distant mountain peaks of Valinor, slowly emerging from the golden mist.
Halbrand looked at the ship crew, marveling that the very existence of the Elves didn’t torment him anymore. It looked like Galadriel’s presence in his life had dampened his hostility toward her kind.
Cunning little elf, he thought tenderly, taking her hair strands, wrapped in a piece of silk, out of his belt bag, and caressing them with his fingertips.
When he heard a distant sound of a horn, he lifted his head and was met by a blue and silver-eyed Elf, watching him thoughtfully with a faint smile on his familiar-looking face.
Giselle_VeraCruz on Chapter 2 Sun 11 Dec 2022 12:08AM UTC
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Last Edited Tue 27 Dec 2022 11:32AM UTC
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