Hot. Smokey. Foreboding. The Dark Lord's forge glowed, the stinging tingle of black magic in the very air she breathed. This was it, where all her choices led. Their blood rite. He had not uttered a word as they left their rooms.
Now, as he stood behind his anvil, she watched as his eyes glowed in the furnace light. They both looked down at the single object on the flat, dull metal of his workspace. The black blade glinted at them, the magic pulsating in almost visible ripples through the air. It stilled as they drew near, made from their sacrifice, the blood in her veins thrummed harder as it called to the metal before them.
A low rumble echoed constantly beneath their feet, the heart of Oroduìn stirring as the power gathered around them. Galadriel could feel the rise of heat beneath their feet. But Sauron did not dawn apron and braces, he only turned to face her, holding nothing but a wrap of black leather in his hand, which he set beside the knife that vibrated as they both drew next to it. It shook with increasing force, clattering its blade against the metal of the anvil on which it rested.
Sauron extended his left hand, the scar from forging of that blade shining a brilliant ruby as he reached for the knife. The hilt leaped into his other hand, she could have sworn. Without a hesitation, he sliced that red scar open, his blood running freely in trickles to his elbow and to the floor. Then he reached his bloody palm for hers, intending to do the same. The pull of magic tugged at her hand, moving it of its own accord, her palm within his reach to slice it open for fresh blood again. She hissed at the pain, her eyes daring a flash at him. At where his slight smirk radiated down at her, unable to hide his pleasure at her pain.
"Press your hand into mine," he instructed, his voice soft but commanding. Their left hands joined, blood mingling, dripping. The black leather strap wrapped around them, Sauron weaving it tightly about their hands. She could feel the intense stare of his eyes, catching their orange tint and glow from the corner of her gaze. But she would not meet it.
He stood close to her, his black robe constantly rippling at both their feet from the rising heat that blasted underground. "Galadriel," he bid her, craning his neck to force his face into her line of sight, but she just turned her head the other way. She observed him from the corner of her eye, his face twisting in dark delight, his arm pulling her close enough for his breath to brush her face. "You do not have to look at me, but you need to obey me," he directed, his smile, his tone obviously enjoying his authority over her. "Now, you will repeat the words after me, and whatever you do, you hold my hand in yours. Do you understand?"
Her eyes flickered to meet his for a moment, just long enough to nod once, then she went back to staring at their bound hands as the blood dripped to the floor slower and slower.
"Now repeat after me," he closed his eyes, "One in body, one in soul, one in power, one life for all." The mountain gave a mighty rumble, the heat and smoke around them increasing. A sweat broke out across both their faces. "Now, you repeat, my Queen," he ordered, squeezing her slick and bloody hand with his.
"One in body…" she muttered through clenched teeth. But the moment the words left her, Oroduìn gave a deafening roar, sending her legs shaking. She held on to his hand for dear life, somehow Sauron's body giving no sign of faltering or falling. He held her steady, and as her eyes finally looked deeply into his, he smiled. His red hair catching the glow of magic around them, the warm light smoothing the angles of his face. The longer she looked into those slitted eyes of flame, she watched as colors swirled, orange slowly stilling to mossy green. Her skin tingled beneath that stare, those eyes that blasted his desire for her body.
"One in soul…" her voice gained strength. And as she spoke this time, her heart raced, the pounding of her blood throbbing in her cut hand. The beat of his own heart thumping against her touch where they were bound right.
"One in power…" that sinking feeling of dark magic settled in her bowels, watching as her ring began to glow. Her face felt flush, almost clammy against the wind that stirred in the chamber. And yet, his face took on an inner light, radiating as it had beneath the summer sun.
"One life for all," the last words left her lips in an echo, hot wind whipping around them, the room spinning to her sight. Scenes flashed around them, making barely a sound above the growl of the volcano, whose veins flowed beneath the shaking floor.
Only the echoing ghosts of their own words reached their ears as they watched the moving shadows of themselves in the magic around them… the raft at sea, tossed and torn by the storm. Galadriel's command piercing the earth-thunder: "Bind yourself to me!" Her words were almost shrill, hand extended to the man at her feet. A man lost at sea. The scenes about them swirled, like water rippling in waves, revealing the gilded halls of Numenór, the arching bars of its prison. "Ours was no chance meeting, but the work of something greater…" the vision stilled as their eyes met, swirling and shifting again. This time, the mountain groaned as the sight of their race across fields and forests of the South took hold. The army of Numenór at their backs…. Another quaking grumble of the mountain, and the vision shifted again… they sat, breathless on the log, thinking more words than either of them dared to say… "Fighting at your side, I felt…" Sauron closed his eyes to hear his own confession. "I felt it too," came her reply, a sting shooting down their arms as the mirage took another form… this time, they stood on the raft once more, the one conjured in Galadriel's mind as they stood on the banks of the Glanduín…. "This is it. You bind me to light…" the vision grew brighter, almost blinding…. "And I bind you to power…."
Scenes about them dispersed into pure shapes and colors, dancing to the beat of their hearts and the booming thunder of the mountain. All she could see was his face, glowing and sun kissed, light catching the burnished-red of his hair and beard as he half-smiled at her. "Halbrand," she sighed, looking up into his face, unaware at how she had drawn closer to him, wrapping her body into the crevasses of his own. Her face turned up and waited for a kiss.
But as that name broke the rumbling rhythm, the magic shattered, tumbling to the ground in waves of power and light. And the mountain stilled its growling and only silence remained. Darkness swallowed them, and all light within his forge died.
The only sound that echoed in the walls was their ragged breaths.
"No…" Sauron growled. His hand slipping from hers, the leather that had tied them together loose and falling down their arms. His voice edged in rage as he groaned to himself. "The spell must be completed before sundown. No time, there is no time," she heard him bite. He pounded his fist loudly into the wooden table at his side, rattling and clanking the tools with a deafening thud of rage. "There is simply too much power. Something is missing to complete the bond, something is preventing its creation..."
Celebrimbor's wisdom floated into her mind, echoing in her memories as if she were there in his forge instead. "True creation requires sacrifice," Galadriel murmured mostly to herself, those haunting words that still made the ring on her finger chill at the memory of its forging.
"That's it." Piercing eyes shot up to meet her own, locking on her face with a fearsome, driven gaze. "We need a sacrifice," his voice hushed, as if the idea, the words themselves were forbidden.
"What sacrifice?" Galadriel queried, her brows furrowing in deep suspicion as that fervor ignited behind his eyes. He drew up to her, clinging to her body as he clutched her tightly. But while his body took her with a soft tenderness, his mouth barked orders, sharp and commanding, his Black Speech making her skin crawl. Acknowledgment was growled back by some unseen servant. Unseen because he held her so tightly, she could not turn. He would not allow it.
His mouth pressed into her ear, whispering so quietly, only she could hear. "You will think me dark, you will think me cruel, filled with evil… but I can tolerate your hatred until you forgive me in order to bind yourself to my very being." Her body stiffened as she tried to twist her head in any and every direction. The rattle of chains, the shuffle of tired feet filled the forge room. "I will give you want, what you have been seeking without my approval in the shadows of my lands. I empty my dungeon for you. All your Elven lords and warriors will go free. Except one. One blood sacrifice, the same race as yours, should complete it at last."
Then, he gripped her shoulders and turned her to face the prisoners. Black eyes stared past them, sunken so deep into their skulls, she wondered how much they saw. Grey skin wrapped on bones, tattered fabric hiding most of their bodies, the only way she recognized them as Elfs once was the remnants of stringy hair and their pointed ears.
"So long removed from any light, they will savor my mercy when they feel the sun again, the Light of their sacred trees…" he turned his back, searching for something among his other tools and blades.
She dared a step closer, her ring pulsating with an increasing beat. Nenya drew on her strength, sapping even her ability to stand. Galadriel clutched the wooden table beside her for support. Her vision swimming as Sauron gestured for one prisoner to be brought forward, two Uruks grabbed the tallest skeletal form from the front of the chain gang. The creature was strewn on his back over the anvil, then the Uruks grunted and left the hall. That prisoner was too weak to fight, too frail to move or open its eyes, instead flailing slowly as it was splayed on the metal at its back.
Nenya pounded, like the racing of her own heart, a shimmer glowing from its diamond, and her hand grew numb with its power. Every nerve of her body was now under her ring's command. And even as her mind raced with how to stop any more death by the Dark Lord, her body would not obey her mind. Possessed by Nenya's power, she turned her head, looking down on the poor elf, or what was left of him. She could not move, could not react as her power drained from her. The light of her ring floated around the prisoner, the one ready for sacrifice. Her eyes could only watch as the elf's skin healed, filled with muscle and flesh, color rising to the surface with a glowing pink hue once more. This elf male's hair grew long again, stands of silver like starlight hanging over his face, his chest. His cheekbones sharp and high, his lips thin as he gasped louder and louder. And then his eyes opened, their blue- grey color sending a quake of recognition through her with agonizing pain.
"Celeborn," she breathed.
Oh, what to do now, Dear Reader?