Sacrifice… something must be given for the magic to work, but must it be a living being? Must it be him? Her mind and heart raced themselves to tatters. Though his eyes were open, it was clear Celeborn did not yet register this world. He looked at her face with unblinking eyes, no sign of recognition or sentient thought.
Sauron grabbed her by the hands, jerking her to look at him. "I promise you, once we are bound, as king and queen, I will forsake all blood magic. I will no longer offer another's life for power or sacrifice. Do you understand?" His voice shook with eagerness, his hold on her tenacious and strong. His eyes glowed, slitted then unslitted, green then swirling orange. A struggle for power within him. "I know you saw the remnants of this magic in Forodwaith, you need not watch…"
Before she could register the feeling, that leather strap was bound again by forces she could not see around her hand. His words wove around her, more incantations she had not heard before. Her body moved without thought, watching as his untethered hand gripped that black blade's hilt again. Ice cold power rippled through her, Nenya and her mind molding as one as they watched Sauron step over Celeborn's barely-alive body, that blade rising above their heads.
"Stop," her voice boomed from the beyond, low and rumbling like the fire mountain. Her body seized as she trembled. A pulse of light flooded the room, blasting the black knife out of Sauron's grip, its metal slamming with force to the stone floor at their feet. The light burned the leather around their hands, charred black ash floating on the breeze she conjured.
Sauron rounded on her, his teeth visibly grinding. But before words left his mouth, she pushed her way into his mind.
"This is not how we will be bound. Remember who you have been, not the Dark Lord. Not Sauron, or Gorthaur, not even the one corrupted by Melkor." Her bright eyes locked into his, that wind from her light still whipping around the hall, sending her bright hair dancing behind her. "Find another way, Marion. Find another way to satisfy the Magic's need for sacrifice other than in another's death. Create from life, not death…" She watched as his eyes flashed at her words.
"It has been an Age of only knowing this way. You've seen the ashes and remnants of Forodwaith," he pushed a wave of bitter regret into her heart. That inner pain was so intense, she gasped out loud. "I have a lifetime of sins behind me, and this one last abomination is all that is left for my salvation."
"This life, this Elf, is not an abomination," she pushed deeper into the chaos of his mind. "He was my husband." Within her, her heart wrent itself in two, and she flooded his being with the pain of what she had once felt. A summery meadow in Doriath, dancing in a field to see the prince's face before her, eyes of starlight… the birth of their daughter, wails piercing a peaceful night as she arrived… clutching him one last time, clad in armor two sizes too big for his young elven body… and then nothing but darkness, loneliness, and loss. But that darkness within her shifted to something warm, a flame of companionship, hot and dancing, as he felt her affection, her gratitude for him. Her desire and affinity for him, this new Man, this fair Halbrand and Dark Lord. "You see why I will have him spared," she pronounced. "You can find another way to finish this magic…"
"You think great things of me, Mélin," Sauron breathed out loud, releasing a heavy breath, his shoulders fairly bending beneath the weight of his task from her.
Galadriel smiled at him, reassuring as she pressed that cut palm into the black folds of his tunic, caressing his chest. "For all your greatness, as Sauron, as Mairon," she looked up into his flickering stare. "As admirable smith or as Dark Lord, you can find a way. Remember what it means to no longer create from death, but… love."
And then, she kissed him, coaxing and assuring, almost feeling the darkness melting from him as she sent the warmest light she could, straight from her heart. It was time to heal, after all.
As his lips plied hers, a smile broke over her mouth. It was working, it had to. Her light could conquer his darkness after all. And as she wrapped her arms about his neck, pulling him closer to her body as it ignited, a feeble voice scratched through the silence behind her.
"Galadriel?" he spoke, vocal chords dried and foreign from a thousand years of disuse.
With a gasp, she spun around, breaking from that kiss.
Yet, Sauron kept his hands tight against her body, wrapped around her waist. "It speaks," Sauron sneered slightly.
Galadriel shushed him, breaking at last from the strength of his arms. Her heart ran wild; she had to make sure these kin of hers were freed. That he was freed. And even as she swallowed the slightly burning bile of shame to be recognized, she took a steadying breath. "You promised their release," she reminded him, a firm tone to her voice as she gestured to the chained and shackled prisoners. "And while mercy may be new for you, it will be good for you to practice it for once."
"You certainly enjoy ordering me around, my Queen," that smirk widened as he snapped his fingers. Chains clattered deafeningly to the floors, the echo grating Galadriel's ears, even as she covered them. Sauron looked them over once more, a surprised and wry expression on his face. "It seems your ring has brought healing to more than just your husband and to my heart and soul," he commented before turning his back on them, searching among the books and papers that lay strewn over the work table. The small battalion of elves had also found strength, their faces bright and healthy, their muscles stretching over bones in renewed strength. And yet, Galadriel could not savor the victory.
Grey eyes turned to steel as Celeborn looked at her. "Who is that?" he asked, though his voice was muddled, his chin darted at the black robed figure behind her.
"I…" the pain in her heart filled her to breaking. "I am sorry I did not find you sooner, Celeborn. I truly am." But she did not step closer.
"Who…is that?" He insisted, "for I only knew of one being who was so tall, cloaked in black, with that sting of black magic about him." His eyes narrowed. "And you were…" he swallowed as if tasting the foulest thing imaginable, "you were… embracing him."
"There is much you do not know," Galadriel tried to console him, one hand reaching out. But Celeborn drew back, pressing his back against the solid metal anvil again. "There is much that has changed in this world while you have been lost." Her hand dropped to her side. "There is much you would not understand."
Sauron gave a biting laugh over his shoulder. "Oh I think the Elf Lord will understand that much in this Middle Earth has moved on without him…." His eye squinted in a knowing grin before returning his attention to the spells and reading at his hands. "Now, you would do well to heed my lady's advice. Leave now. Be the first to taste my mercy as you go free," he ordered them, waving his hand twice to dismiss them. "Galadriel has turned my heart, so you will leave to tell the tale."
"His lady?" Celeborn demanded, his voice gaining strength. "Turned his heart, have you?"
"Celeborn, please," she began, her voice hard as she stood before him still, those other elves coming to their surroundings more with each second, rubbing their wrists where irons had pressed for a thousand years. "I came here looking to save you, to save prisoners, our people, and I found a chance to heal and save all Middle Earth instead. You see…"
"Oh," Celeborn snapped. "I see plenty."
"Then go and find your freedom, enjoy his mercy." Her attention turned to the clustering group of Elven males, their senses returning to them as they looked around the forge.
"You're coming with us, Galadriel?" Celeborn queried, though it sounded in his voice as a command.
"Go to the stables," she bid loudly and with a wave of her arm. Three steps, and she moved past Celeborn, making for the door to draw their attention. At least she would have done as her people had asked of her. Even if it was in a manner very different than she anticipated and not wholly unpleasant, she smiled. "Take the horses and ride north, up the mountain. You will easily find a trail, marked with a blooming tree…"
Her words echoed soundless in Celeborn's ears. Perhaps it was the madness of a thousand years of darkness, or perhaps even Elven hearts knew blinding jealousy. Slowly, he bent to the ground, his fingers, though weak, gripped that black blade's hilt. Her back towards him, perhaps this form only resembled Galadriel, made of more black magic, conjured to torment him beyond sanity. He would put an end to it.
Galadriel could not see how slowly he rose from the ground, could not hear his silent footsteps.
But Sauron knew and saw it all. Swift as the flames in his forge, he rushed between them. His arms were quick enough to shove her out of the way. "Galadriel," he groaned as she stumbled.
She turned, seeing his quick action to save her. But not so quick to avoid the blade himself. Celeborn's blow struck home. Its black hilt protruded sharply from Sauron's chest.
Everything about her slowed almost to a standstill. Celeborn rushing at her, gripping her by the arm to bear her off with him. She resisted that clammy, Elven touch, instead she called for the other one. For the one whose mossy eyes widened in agony. The one whose face grew ashen even as the black blade seeped spurting bursts of blood. "Sauron," she whispered to the dark, a sob of shooting pain filling her chest. Her hand pressed to her shoulder, damp to the touch as if she were the one bleeding. "Sauron," she sobbed again, "no."
Their eyes locked as he heard her whisper his name. A hissing sound deafened her ears, her palm stinging with a searing heat. She ripped her hand from Celeborn's hold, watching the scar kitting itself together with fresh, pink flesh before disappearing altogether. Light flashed through the hall, something brighter than her light alone. Something more powerful than his power alone. Magic rushed into her, throwing her towards the door. Something new blossomed in her being, a new pounding in her chest. Their bond was compete, she knew somehow. A binding born of sacrifice. Self-sacrifice.
And as she was pulled by both arms out the door with the other Elves, she looked back at him, a mass of black collapsed on the floor. Those green eyes looked only for her, the flicker of his power softening. Dimming. His face ashen..
And as she was tugged out of sight, she watched as his mouth moved, but no sound reached her ears. Those noiseless lips mouthing words she could read, Melinyel. I love you. All she could hear was the pounding of her heart, or was it the slowing beat of Sauron's.
The Dark Lord dying... Galadriel forced to leave... and yet I promise you this ending version will be a happy one, Dear Reader. Ahh, a self- sacrifice by the Dark Lord himself, he must love her, I think, but what are your thoughts upon the matter?