It is hard indeed to believe that there was a time in my life when I did not know loss.
Three brothers, war-bound and lost. A husband, loved and lost. A father and mother sundered from me, choosing instead to remain behind in Valinor than to follow their children to this promised Middle-Earth. A nephew and his only daughter, slain in dragon fire. My best friend lost in her grief, fleeing to Valinor after the death of her husband.
The golden house of Finarfin indeed. All that remained apart from me was a grand nephew, Gil-galad, who now claimed the mantle of High King. Unmarried and bold enough for his life to end as fast as his father's—his uncle's—his sister's. I wondered often if this line would end with me.
"Galadriel," a voice called, and I shook my head. Elrond was frowning at me, slowing his mare to a trot beside my own stallion. "Rouse yourself, we are nearly to Forlindon."
I shifted in my saddle and surveyed the land before me. Sunlight filtered in through fading green leaves, instilling in them a brightness I knew was not theirs to naturally claim. Indeed, that same light illuminated my companion's wary face, though he looked at me with such dullness and distrust, his hand resting not-quite-casually off the side of his horse on the precious cargo he ferried to our superiors.
We had agreed upon leaving Eregion that he would transport the rings on his person to Lindon, yet I felt even now that it had been less of a decision and more of a command. I did not fight it; of course, I gave my assent. How could I resist him, without condemning myself even more in his eyes?
I sighed, "Lead on then."
The roads were eerily vacant as Elrond guided us to the would-be throne room of High King Gil-galad, and I wondered in passing if they had evacuated the area knowing what thundered along in their wake.
I took what little solace I could in the sound my stallion made as his muscled legs pounded hard against the forest floor. A beautiful forest it was, though perhaps not wholly comparable to those which preceded it in the west before the Ruin of Beleriand. This wood was no Doriath, but it was enough for our people now, the boughs of its great deciduous trees stretching high overhead. Their backs were twisted and arched, gnarled fingers reaching upwards to block out the sun from all below, greedy as they were in their search for sunlight.
Left alone to my contemplations for the last leg of our journey, the thought occurred to me that trees were remarkably like people. Some were strong and independent, standing alone, aloft, and proud in an open field. Some were free spirits, carving their way into the side of a cliff—the top of a great mountain—the slope of a deserted beach. Others, still, settled among their loved ones, congregating in great groups and whispering between hushed leaves. But all trees would do whatever it took to reach what they needed—their beloved light. They would twist and curve and snap and curl and choke out the totality of life if it meant they could save themselves.
And all trees were waiting, searching—their roots aching to settle down and intertwine with another's.
Time dragged on, a sprawling, ancient hand reaching across the expanse of the sky and pulling the sun down with it. A tuft-earred, red squirrel danced across our winding path. Very distantly, I thought I heard the sound of running water. Then a roar.
I blinked, and I was being ushered off my horse in the lantern light of Lindon's royal stables. Elrond would not even offer his hand, and instead I slung my leg over my saddle brusquely, earning a set of raised eyebrows from a nearby groom.
"The High King wishes to see you forthwith," The stable master interceded. Elrond nodded and pulled a small bag from among his horse's larger pack. I had barely taken a breath before he absconded from our stalled kinsmen, his strides striking a poignant march against the cobblestones paving the way to our king.
My companion had hardly uttered a word in our pilgrimage, and I found myself feeling not only disheartened, but also bitter. An anger coiled inside of my heart, roused like a great wyrm digging his claws into his hoard in anticipation of its loss. The worst of it was that Elrond's newfound wariness around me stemmed not from some masterful machinations of our enemy, but from my own actions and the purity of his heart. The unyielding fissure that now wound through the expanse of our relationship had been chiseled exquisitely by me. Were our roles reversed, I would be loath to offer my blind faith, and so I could not fault him for it either. The blame was mine alone to swallow.
Nonetheless, he still seemed to be trying to shoulder some of the burden when we came before our High King.
"Lady Galadriel and I have arrived from Eregion," he intoned, his voice gentle.
Gil-galad barely glanced at Elrond before piercing his silver eyes through me.
"So, our prodigal daughter returns."
We bowed, as was our custom, and Gil-galad opened his hands in blessing before they quickly folded back together in front of his robes. Even at such a late hour, he was impeccably groomed, the starlight reflecting agreeably off of the beaded embroidery which emblazoned his gown. Not a hair out of place.
"I trust that you did not find the journey too taxing?" He began, motioning for his chamber butler to leave, taking with him a stack of papers I assumed had been perused prior to our appearance. "I apologize there was no time for rest or refreshment prior to our reunion, but you will understand that there could be no delay in our meeting and allaying my concerns regarding the both of you. Besides," he said, inclining his head to me, "if you could weather the swim across the Sundering Sea on your own, I'm certain that your body can handle a few days of hard riding without pause, battered though it is."
Gil-galad offered a close-lipped smile at this, the words hanging unspoken between us as he worked hard to carve in relief the separation between High-King and Subject, lest I recall too easily holding him as a babe the day he entered this world and made my brother a grandfather. Angrod's words still echoed to me, the memory like any other—perfect and clear—Bless him with spirit, bless him with strength, bless him with the ambition to better our people.
If only my brother could see his progeny now.
"Well, we certainly have much to discuss, but I suppose our first matter of business should be what tidings you carry on your persons from Eregion. May I see these three rings you wrote of so strongly?"
"Yes, High King," Elrond replied, producing the satchel that contained them, "here, for your appraisal."
Gil-galad's face shone as he accepted the golden bag, weighing it in his hand.
"So strange that something so small could wield such a power, if what you have relayed thus far proves true. I shall be curious indeed to see if they veritably can halt this fading and save our realm. Not since the Silmarils have our people dreamt of trinkets like these, and once again they have been wrought in three." He unbound the strands which sealed the purse closed, and I watched as the bag opened and his breath departed. "By the host, such hope is struck into my heart at the sight of these alone, but—" he faltered, "I fear we may risk war by wielding their power."
A shudder tore through me unbidden at his claim.
"Nonetheless, thank you for bringing these to me. And thanks be to Celebrimbor as well for his benevolence in applying his skill to creating such wonders. Though," Gil-galad paused, "I believe he was hardly alone in his craft, if I am not mistaken?"
Elrond looked to me, and I looked at Elrond, my entrails churning like the black sea where my sworn enemy had become my salvation. A salvation that now haunted me, practically laughing at the predicament I had plaited myself into. Would it have been better to have died in that storm?
I shook my head, "No. These three Celebrimbor made alone, aside from the assistance of his Gwaith-i-Mírdain and counsel from Elrond and I."
"Ah, but there was another, was there not, who accompanied you to Eregion?"
He was baiting me.
"Yes," I acknowledged, "there was."
"Yes, there was," He echoed, raising his hand to his chin in concentration, "And your companion, this Halbrand, was not who he claimed, was he? Yet, if I am to believe the letters our Herald has imparted, you chose to withhold this from both him and Lord Celebrimbor for reasons that I, quite frankly, have still yet to comprehend. Maybe you can help us ascertain that today."
"Perhaps she did not—"
"Silence, Elrond." Gil-galad snapped, and I swore the room darkened at his words.
I inhaled deeply, finding what alignment I could within my being before drawing up my response. "High King, you must believe that I would never do anything to endanger our people."
"Such steadfast words coming from one who pushed her soldiers to the point of desertion and mere weeks ago mustered legions unbidden among a race of men who had long abrogated their loyalty to the elves," he replied, shaking his head. "That you would shirk the call of Valinor and the greatest blessing of our people to instead tumble alongside the filth of mankind—"
"And what would you have?" I pressed. "A breathless, deathless peace? Claimless, and thrust upon you by powers not your own?"
He scowled, "There was a reason I sent you across that sea, Galadriel—things foreshadowed to me beyond your ken. You could have been reunited with your parents, your brothers, your husband, the Valar themselves—and instead you stand before me, hardly able to form an answer to my question!" Gil-galad breathed in sharply, steadying himself, "Now, tell me, who was this man that accompanied you to Eregion?"
"He claimed to be—"
"I did not ask who he claimed to be, Galadriel. Who did you bring with you into the halls of Lord Celebrimbor?"
"I—" I faltered, my words failing. "Halbrand was—"
"I know already that 'Halbrand' was nothing more than a pseudonym your partner assumed when he falsely claimed the title of King of the Southlands, whose royal line we all now know has long been broken. Fó!" Gil-galad shouted, slamming his hand down on the bureau he stood beside, "Enough of this. I will say it one last time; tell me who this man truly was!"
"He was our enemy! Morgoth's successor," I gasped out, hating myself more than ever.
Gil-galad rose to his full height, taking a step towards me, and I turned my face in shame from both his rage and the expression of abhorrence Elrond had fixed me with. Our High King swore illustratively in our mother tongue and dragged a hand across his face.
"You cannot even speak his name, can you? Cannot utter the moniker of our greatest foe—that sickening enemy Sauron," Gil-galad spat. "How far you have fallen, Galadriel, to be cowed into obeisance by this."
"I was deceived!"
"You are an elf come from Valinor!" Gil-galad snarled, his face contorting in rage. "You know as well as I that there is a power in what you spend your energy dwelling upon. How can you claim deception when this was well-nigh your own doing? For a thousand years you devoted yourself body, mind, and soul to finding Sauron, and so he appeared himself to you. How could you be surprised by an outcome you spent a millennium conjuring into existence!
"Fate does not care for your morals or your reasons—cannot fathom your hate. It only saw that you required his presence in your quest to vanquish it, and so fate has drawn upon your power and delivered him up to you—with remarkable efficiency it would seem! What would have taken Sauron the assistance of a Vala or nigh an age on his own you have accomplished in barely a thousand years. I suppose congratulations are in order, Galadriel!"
I flinched at his words.
"Then I will find him myself!" I cried, stepping forward to meet the High King, "I will hew him from neck to navel—bring you his head—whatever it shall take to banish him forever from these lands and right my folly. As you said—"
"No! You have done enough damage already. You think I would let you free to find him? To walk beside him, at his side, as he corrupts your mind all the more? It is unthinkable. No, you will not depart from my sight until we are certain this threat is past."
"What—" I exclaimed, my brows knitting together as I jerked away from him. "No, you cannot trap me here!"
"I am High King of the Noldor," He roared, "My word is law. You will remain here under my watch in Lindon if I have to chain you to the Great Tree myself." He pinched the bridge of his nose and looked away from me with a sigh. "There is darkness inside of you, Galadriel. I should have taken note and acted sooner; you have become too volatile without your brothers or your husband here to keep you in check. But now I see clearly that it is my task to guard you in their stead. I swear, I will do whatever it takes to protect our people and protect you from yourself."
My jaw fell open at his words, at the audacity of his suggestion and at the patronization unmasked by his tone. I had never been kept 'in check' by my kin. Instead, it had always been my voice that calmed my brothers and offered wise counsel in the face of our terrible foe. But still they charged ahead, for valor—for glory—for death. Not until I lost Celeborn and Melian soon after did I take up my sword, and for naught but the War of Wrath itself, when all the piked ears my words of peace once fell upon had long been torn asunder.
Gil-galad had been but an elfchild when Nargothrond was felled; he knew little of those who hailed before him in our lineage and the conflicts we afore had faced. But he was full-grown and fearsome now—wielding the power of our race in the palm of his hand—and he had spoken in truth that it was I who brought the enemy to our borders, so I sealed my treacherous lips.
"Now," he said, finally taking a seat at his desk. "I need a time to weigh these things in my mind, in particular what we are to do with these rings."
Elrond hesitated, "High King, should we not seek to destroy them?"
In response, Gil-galad laughed in derision, "If our greatest enemy in an age truly has returned, I would be foolish indeed to throw away perhaps our only hope of resisting him. Should we destroy these rings and whatever reprieve they might offer us from the fading, our people would have no choice but to leave these shores and return to Valinor, abandoning Middle Earth to whatever purposes Sauron has devised."
"But there must be some other way," Elrond said.
"These rings are pure," I interjected, "you witnessed their blameless creation yourself."
"Believe me, Herald Elrond," the High King replied, "I will weigh all possible options." He turned to me, "Were I wholeheartedly convinced of their incorruption, I would see one on your finger in an instant, in the hopes it could expel whatever devilry has taken hold of you, Galadriel. But I am not yet sure enough of their virtue that I could risk granting you such power. We will see what boon they bring with the dawn and appraise if they truly are capable of halting this fading, as you have suggested."
In our dismissal, the High King had tasked Elrond with escorting me to and from my chambers until a more suitable chaperone was found, much to my chagrin. When I protested this arrangement, I was sternly informed my only alternative was to be carried away by a member of the royal guard in shackles, and not willing to test Gil-galad's resolve in the matter, I deigned to follow my old friend to our accommodations.
Elrond, ever the picture of elven-faithfulness, escorted me wordlessly to what were to be my quarters during my indefinite stay in Lindon. I tried multiple times in our stroll to catch his eye—to communicate in some small way that I was sorry for what had transpired and for my involving him in the aftermath—yet I never managed to glean even a sideways glance from him.
The quiet became like an ocean between us, and as we approached the door to my room, I could stand the silence no longer, "Elrond," I said, "I know you have no intention of speaking to me, but if you are to leave me here, it cannot be without my first telling you that I am sorry, truly, for everything."
"I see no reason to trade words with one who would betray our kind so easily," He replied, his stare unmoving from the corridor that stretched on ahead of us.
"I did what I thought right at the time, and still I believe even now that the three rings we forged will serve as our people's protection in the days to come," I said. "Think what you will; I do not see my dealings with Halbrand as betraying our people. Perhaps I was fooled in the first by fair form and fashion, but no more was I deceived than I swear to you now, I will see to it myself that his deceit will not lead to the doom of our people, nor to the doom of our friendship."
Finally Elrond turned, his jaded eyes meeting mine, "Perhaps you should have considered our friendship then, before you chose to align yourself with Sauron."
Our conversation was going nowhere, and it must have been my tiredness bleeding through, because I found my tone souring as I quipped back at him, "Tell me, my friend, where am I standing now?"
Elrond had the gall to look perturbed by my use of the word 'friend' but still offered his response, "Outside of your chambers in Gil-galad's eastern courtyard. In Lindon."
"Very perceptive. Now, can you tell me where I am not?"
"What?" He asked, bewilderment at my question winning out over his earlier indignation. "Where you are not?"
"Ah, I see," I said. "Perhaps I am not doing a very good job of making myself plain." I cleared my throat, motioning to the walls around us, "I am here, with you, in Lindon. Surrounded by kinsmen and king who now discount me for a traitor and judge me as somehow more wayward than they thought me before. But do you know where I am not?" I paused again, my jaw flexing. "I am not with our enemy, at his side fulfilling whatever wicked plans you seem so keen I crave to execute. In fact, so far, I am the only one of us in all of Lindon who has successfully resisted our enemy, and here I am instead being damned for it!"
I verily coaxed a laugh from him with this.
"Do you know how absurd you sound right now? Truly?" He questioned, folding his arms against me. "You did not resist our enemy, Galadriel, you dragged him on his deathbed to the very jewel of elvendom and watched without rest to ensure our finest healers brought him back to life!"
"No, but once I knew—really, finally knew—who it was I faced, I rejected him, Elrond."
Elrond Half-Elven shook his head as he pushed open the door to my room, gesturing for me to retire inside. His final words to me that night would linger for days, echoing through the circumscribed halls and piercing even my most tumultuous dreams, long after he himself had departed.
"Do not tell me that some small piece of you did not know that it was him beside you, all along."
A/N: Cheers to another chapter! I will do my best to update this every two weeks (ish) with a new chapter, but I work in a very demanding profession and life also happens, so I may not always fulfill that goal. There may also be periods where I upload multiple entries in a relatively short period of time followed by a lull.
I want to note that, while I am trying my very best to stay true to Tolkien lore (which is so deliciously deep and encompassing), I will be taking a number of creative liberties especially moving forward when it comes to the magic and mechanics of this world, which is part of the fun of fanfiction. This will initially have to do with what power/magic means for individual elves as well as what it means for the disguises and appearance of a certain Maia (as much as I love Charlie Vickers in a blond wig, that was not exactly what I had imagined from our lord of disguises when it comes to shifting form).
As a sidebar, though this fic does take place after season 1 of TROP and disregards any TROP content coming thereafter, I of course have still been watching the second season and I find it so interesting how the producers seem to have doubled-down on Sauron's obsession with Galadriel, to the point where he has found himself a new pseudo-Galadriel sidekick in Eregion. So interesting to me when they could have easily pivoted away from the ~vibes~ coming from our leading characters (especially after some of the hate they got with the first season), but it only motivates me to work on this fic and makes me enjoy the season all the more though I know the two of them will likely share little screen-time and banter moving forward.
