Chance

.•*´¨`*•.

From the moment he laid eyes upon her, Halbrand knew theirs was no chance meeting.

You don't have the look of someone to whom things happen by accident, he had said. They both had that in common. He could sense it.

Sopping wet, weak from thirst, and near blind from seawater, the magnificence of her light still shone brilliantly through a blind man could see it. She was powerful, ancient by most, and had the same air about her as someone who had commanded grand armies in service of another, just as he once did.

But what the Valar were playing at, throwing her into his lap, fate only knew, for trying to guess at signs could lead to a precarious, slippery slope, divining patterns where there were none and proclaiming prophecies and portents out of falsehoods and misinterpretations. It took him millennia to understand this and more time still to master its art to his advantage against weaker minds. So he would be careful, as in all things, and wait patiently until there came a time to use her.

Besides, Halbrand rather enjoyed the process, as would any master craftsman using the tools at his disposal to forge his own destiny, now finally being free of the yoke that once shackled him. The world, and ridding the blight of chaos and disorder that infected it, was at stake, and he would not fail.

Neither, as he came to realize, would Galadriel of the Noldor, better known as the Commander of the Northern Armies of High King Gil-galad.

Focusing on bracing their raft for the incoming storm was all he could do not to openly laugh at the remarkably twisted irony of the situation. The Valar were surely testing her. Perhaps her resolve to kill him. Perhaps something more. Regardless of their larger design at work, it was a gift to receive Galadriel at long last. Now finally being able to put a face to the name, the stories did not do her justice.

For hundreds of years Halbrand had felt someone nipping at his heels, pursuing the last of what were now his forces across Middle Earth to extinguish them once and for all. At first it was a wonderful game of cat and mouse, leaving just enough bread crumbs to tantalize her, just out of sight. Just out of reach. Baiting her like a mad dog with a bone and retreating into the mists with barely a trace, or confusing their reported sightings by sending a misdirect somewhere else to lead them on a wild goose chase.

As years turned into centuries, however, he came to admire her tenacity. She never gave up, even as the cultural memory of the elves began to forget what it could not remember experiencing firsthand. Even as the wisest among elvenkind who stayed on Middle Earth and were witness to Morgoth's wrath remained steadfast in their convictions that Sauron was no more, Galadriel never gave up. And she never gave in. What all others failed to see, Galadriel saw. It was a form of acknowledgement no other would grant him. Not only did she acknowledge his presence, she prioritized it, making it her mission in life to hunt them all down to a man and kill him personally.

Such unwavering devotion to her crusade was the greatest form of flattery. For even though they fought on opposite sides, Halbrand came to enjoy her attention and respect her determination. Scant few could match him, and she was close. After countless years of aimless uncertainty at finally being his own master, struggling to find direction, and eventually toiling over a new plan, Galadriel became the only person in life whose presence he could depend on, the sole challenger who kept him going.

Even more interesting, in many ways her presence had a likeness to his own. The temptation of darkness within her was undeniable, and it grew with each passing failure to route his forces. Vengeance darkened her mind and hardened her heart so greatly, it seemed, that she was blind to all else, even to those right in front of her.

Which made Galadriel incredibly…vulnerable.

But it wasn't until the storm was raging around them with pitching waves threatening to obliterate their raft, when Galadriel reached out and called for him to bind himself to her, that Halbrand realized she was just as much his test as well.

Did the Valar orchestrate all of this to observe any redeemable part of him left that could return to the light? Was working with her a chance to prove he was worthy of Ilúvatar's love once more? Was she somehow his saving grace? His redemption?

His last hope?

When a lightning bolt struck their sail and sent Galadriel sinking rapidly beneath the depths, one thing was made certain: her death would not lead to the answers he sought.

Half a heartbeat later, Halbrand dove into the water.

.•*´¨`*•.