A dreaded either-or, but perhaps a third option is found, Dear Reader...
Light and darkness braced for battle. She had never simply watched a battle, always fighting. Always a warrior. But locked in her own mind, immobile by her own Magic's hold, Galadriel's tears dripped down her face as she watched Halbrand's fair form stripped away. Horned, black scaled, and fearsome, he dug his claws deep into whatever magic lay between them. The scratching of his great nails against the shining stone barrier resounded through her watery prison. Blazing orange eyes searched for her, but she could not move to signal him. Nor speak. Nor breathe.
She longed for the suffocating smell of his magic, the tingling and burning that filled her so completely. She hated herself for detesting it for so long, now deprived of feeling him within her.
She would die without him saving her…. She had been warned, unless he relinquished his desire for her power. Watching the flickers of light and pushes of darkness, her heart sank. Perhaps she would die…
No. No magic, no ring's power would determine her fate. Just another obstacle in her path, another challenger to master in combat.
If only she could reach him; her own being and soul of light. Daughter of Valinor, Nenya had called her. A daughter of Light itself. Her body bathed in the memory of that undying land. As if stepping on the grassy knoll by the river, Galadriel felt the light of her home, the breezes and laughter, the peace and tranquility in the lands of light as they were before the destruction Morgoth had wreaked upon the world.
As the feeling of her own peaceful light increased, the compression around her eased, her arms and legs freed to move. A loud crack echoed through the waters, the diamond wall before Sauron breaching as he pushed. The ring at her finger throbbed, the pain intensifying the longer she forced her memories of Valinor around her.
She at last caught the scent of smoke. A flicker of fiery light shooting towards her through the adamant wall. "Rings are but metal, Galadriel," she could faintly hear his words, as one down a deep tunnel, echoing and distorting. "Even ones with power are born of simple metal…"
Her eyes darted to her hand, the diamond on the crest of the silver band glowing like light itself. "But this ring was not merely metal before," she whispered. Her fist clenched, and where she should feel nothing but water, she now clutched the ghost of an unseen hilt. One that had grown as familiar as her own skin. A dagger of purest Valinor gold and silver. Forged by the furnaces of Aulë himself. Gifted to her brother by the best of all apprentices of Aulë, once crafted to perfection by the only one worthy enough of purest gold and silver.
A creation of Mairon.
The surface of her bubble broke like a waterfall, gushing a flood of water at her feet. Adamant shattered like a mirror, shining stones falling like pebbles in the rain. The rushing and racing of magic filled her lungs, a clashing of light and power, of smoke and water, as they ran for one another.
Then she awoke. Air felt hot on her skin. Her true body shivering beneath softest sheets. Her eyes fluttered open, the ceiling of his rooms arching above her, the verdant green bed beneath her tired body. Eyes blinking, she no longer spied that fearsome dark-horned Lord fighting to reach her. Halbrand's weathered face, his stubbled beard and smiling eyes filling her sight at last. His chest heaved from great exertion, and beads of sweat dripped from his temple and hair.
She bolted upright in bed. Her clothes clung to her figure, sopping wet, her hair dripping in straggled knots down her shoulders. Just as she looked that fateful day on the raft, thrashed by waves of the Sundering Sea. Her hand still clutched tightly around an invisible weapon, that cursed ring pulsated a light like a throbbing vein. "Ancient though I am, I know not what you did," he panted, reaching to cup her damp cheek. "But I knew neither you nor I would let you die."
"No," she whispered between heaving breaths. "I would not let a ring bring me to my end." Head tilted into the cradle of his palm, her body aching and heavy. "But give it back to me now, Halbrand," her voice cracking in thirst. "The pain she causes me is too great for you to keep any of my light forever."
He raised a brow briefly, as if genuinely surprised that she should know. Without another hesitation, he grabbed that left hand, pressing his tingling fingers into hers, weaving them together as he let that beautiful and intoxicating Light back into her flesh.
"It is done," he murmured, drawing her even closer to his body, taking on her weight as she collapsed against his chest, her damp head resting against his shoulder. He placed a kiss into her drenched hair. "Even rings with any magic or power begin as metal," he said again, aloud this time. "I'm glad you understood my meaning as a way to master it."
Her arms pushed against his chest as he looked into his face. "But this one was not mere metal, one you of all beings should know."
"What did Celebrimnor do to my beautiful mithril?" He hissed.
"The metal of my ring has been tied to seeking your ruin for longer than this age," she whispered, her voice hushed and cold.
"Your brother's dagger, of purest gold and silver from Valinor's Light itself," he smirked, a smile twisted and bitter.
She nodded, "Forged in the furnaces of…"
"Aulë himself by his best apprentice. He who made all the blades for the royalty of the Noldor…" Sauron's voice hardened.
Galadriel's brows furrowed deeply, the metal of her ring chilling again as they spoke of its origins. "How would you know?" her voice quiet and still in deep hesitation.
"If only I had known sooner, Galadriel, how the alloy had been done. Your ring cannot undo me, for I was its first maker," he gave a dark and bitter laugh.
She felt the ring shiver at the relaization. A shiver she echoed.
"I told you I have had many names, but my first given to me was that as apprentice to the master of the forge, Aulë…"
Her ring stilled, the swirling of its power suddenly asleep beneath her skin. A relaxing of peace through her body as he pressed his forehead against hers with a smile.
"I was… I am Mairon, the admirable."
Her heart leaped wildly. Of course, the realization made her whole being thrill with hope and admiration. She recalled seeing a figure shadowed by dancing furnace flame as a child, sparks flying as hammer strokes fell swift and sure upon the blade's silver. The memory so clear she could smell the smoke, feel the vibrations of hammer falls rattling through her bones. A soft pressure brushed atop her thigh, his hand resting there with gentle ease. Her eyes flashed up to meet his, and he nodded, as if hearing and feeling her memory too.
"Many of the Noldor came for my wares and to learn of my skills once," he grinned, a distant happiness like a shadow hiding in his smile. "I made many a blade like yours. I recognized it in the sea, strapped around that supple waist of yours." His hand wandered higher off her thigh, stroking around her waist and pulling her closer towards him. "Of course all that was my life before…"
Her palm silenced his lips, her eyes a flaming bright blue. "I cannot hear it, Halbrand," she spoke steadily. "I believe, I have to believe that your own light has not disappeared forever." She slipped her hand from his mouth, uncovering a feeble smile.
Sauron breathed, "Nothing is evil in the beginning."
"Not even you," she rejoined. "And I believe you can find that once again, should you wish it."
Her words, her faith, struck a nerve that laid buried deep beneath scars of ages and of evil. Before any words could leave his mouth, he grabbed for her, bringing her still-wet body against him, needing to taste her sweet honeyed tongue again. "I should wish it," he replied, his kiss stealing her breath, her air, and all her senses from her. "I do wish it," he corrected, adding a nip on her lips with each word, insighting moans from her that only pounded his blood more. "Now," his voice rasped in his throat, "I meant to get you out of these clothes long before they became wet."