Suspended in a swirl of smoke, she waited. Or rather, she was left to think on her choices in the matter. She had but an hour before he would return, leaving her alone with nothing but his magic trapping her, suspended in the air as she was. Time would only allow so much leniency, for the rite had to be done this day. Before sunset. And preparations had to be completed first. Most importantly, she had to prepare herself for a lifetime of servitude, as his queen.
Her arms spread over her head, she dangled in the air, unable to twist or turn. Her ring was no use either, her power muted for the moment, clouded by his magic. Head hung low, chin resting on her chest as she remained buried in agonizing contemplation. Two desires at war within her. To give in and to accept him, his control for her, his devotion or possession… whatever it was. Or to defy him each step of the way, which seemed exhausting, heart sickening, and prideful.
If only she could speak to someone… anyone…
A whisper brushed her ear, a soft and physical tickle fluttering on her cheek. Eyes opened to spy the familiar grey winged moth, its antennae darting about as it hovered before her.
Anyone to speak to but Mithrandir… she groaned inwardly. Trusted up, dangling in the Dark Lord's magic was not how she wanted to be seen. But that moth flittered closer, landing gently on her shoulder so close to her ear, she could feel its whispering tickle.
She waited for him to speak, but only the nearly-silent flapping broke any silence.
Galadriel breathed. "I wish you did not see me thus. I have lost the battle, Mithrandir. I was a fool to think I could deceive the Great Deceiver, as if I could hide anything from him…."
"This is not a battle, my lady, and you are not a fool…"
"I have no choice now. I must remain here for however many ages it takes, to save my people and not lose my light to his darkness," her head hung lower than before as she gave voice to her deepest pains and shames. "He has my body, and now he will have the light in my soul…"
"No one knows how much light a soul may contain, but if there was one whose soul could turn darkness to light, it is you my lady." The deep, trembling voice echoed words of pure comfort in her mind.
"This task, this mission was one you chose. Only you, Commander, have the light, the power to not only save your people, but maybe all Middle Earth as well. You fear the forked path, the road that diverges where you must choose. It is time to conquer your fears, use your light, and forge a new path." Something warm brushed her cheek, wiping away the tear that had seeped from her eye.
"Nenya has many gifts as a ring of power, and though she may resist,for she was born first of vengeance and bloodshed, she is made truly for healing, my lady. And nothing needs more healing in this earth than the dark soul that dwells beside you, and the one you see in your reflection. Stop fighting and start healing."
As the moth departed, a soft hush of wings, a soft warmth filled her heart. A warmth she sensed running to the metal band on that fateful finger. "Time to heal," it hummed down her veins.