This chapter is on a darker side. Sensitive content. Safe to skip without losing the thread of the story.
As they stood there, the wind whipping around them, their relationship hung in a fragile balance. The trust between them had been shaken to its core, and though Mairon's love was evident, the path forward remained uncertain. What Galadriel saw in his memories, made her feel even more doubts. She did not know how to get back from this. The things between them will hardly be the same now, just as Tindómë wanted.
Sensing her lingering uncertainty, Mairon's patience shattered like brittle glass. With a clenched jaw and a whisper of ancient curse, he turned and strode back towards the encampment, his rage building with each step. Galadriel followed.
"Where are you going?" she chased him now, trying to keep up.
"I am going to end this. I am going to kill this snake, tear her head off her neck and stick it on a pike. Maybe then you'll believe."
Galadriel's heart raced as she hurried after Mairon, his long strides eating up the distance back to the encampment. The air crackled with tension, his fury palpable even from behind.
"Mairon, wait!" she called out, her voice barely audible over the howling wind. "You can't just—"
He whirled around, his fully black eyes blazing with an intensity that made her falter. "I can't what, Galadriel? Let her continue to poison everything between us, let her turn you away from me? Let her live to spread more lies and sow more discord?"
Galadriel reached for him, her fingers brushing his arm. "Violence won't undo what's been done," she pleaded.
For a moment, Mairon's face softened, the rage in his eyes flickering. But then his expression hardened once more. "No," he growled, "but it will ensure she never hurts us again."
He turned and continued his march towards the camp, leaving Galadriel no choice but to follow. As they crested the final dune, a scene of chaos unfolded before them. Mairon's war machines were already in motion, their gears grinding as they tore through the remaining armies. The air was thick with screams and the acrid smell of smoke.
Driven by the pain of their strained bond, his ring blazed upon his finger, a vortex of power coalescing around him. His next breath came as a tempest, releasing a torrent of energy that surged through the valley. Mairon's fury exploded in a display of might, scorching the desert earth around them.
Galadriel watched in horror and awe as Mairon unleashed his full force. The machines, grotesque amalgamations of metal and magic, tore through the remaining enemy armies like parchment. Screams filled the air as soldiers were crushed beneath relentless gears or impaled on razor-sharp appendages.
With a mere thought, he directed them towards the temple where Tindómë had taken refuge. The massive structure began to crumble under the onslaught on his powers, stone and mortar raining down in a deadly cascade.
Galadriel watched in horror as Sauron wrought devastation upon the thousands of mortal soldiers, not holding back anymore. She could feel the dark energy radiating from him, a reminder of the being he once was – and perhaps, in some ways, still was.
"Mairon, stop!" she cried out, her voice lost in the cacophony of destruction. "This is too much, you will kill all of them! They are just men!"
But her words fell on deaf ears. Mairon was consumed by his rage, his desire for vengeance overshadowing all else. Stone cracked and crumbled under the might of his wrath, pillars toppling as though they were mere toys in the hands of a petulant god. Dust billowed into the sky, blotting out the raising sun with a gray pall. Frenzied soldiers scattered, some crushed beneath the debris, others fleeing from the unstoppable force unleashed upon them.
Galadriel reeled back from the onslaught, her heart pounding a frantic rhythm. In the chaos, she glimpsed Mairon, his figure enveloped by the swirling maelstrom of his own making, a lord of ruin orchestrating the symphony of destruction that resonated with the fury in his soul.
The temple yielded to his anger — the last vestiges of its grandeur fell, leaving naught but devastation in its wake. The building collapsed in on itself, but Tindómë stood unmoved among all of it, a cruel smile playing on her lips. With the carnage drew closer, she raised her hands, summoning a shimmering barrier around herself. Mairon's assault crashed against it, the clash of powers sending shockwaves across the desert.
"You should try harder, my love," Tindómë's voice rang out, dripping with false sweetness. "You are way more powerful that me, yet you cannot kill me because deep down in your black heart you know, that I am what you truly desire."
Mairon's black eyes narrowed dangerously. "You have nothing I want, twilight," he snarled, redoubling his efforts to break through her defenses. "I shall rip your black heart out of your chest and I'll make sure you are gone for good!"
Before he could reach her, Tindómë's form began to shimmer and fade. "Until next time, my Dark Lord Sauron," she purred, her voice echoing as she vanished into the night.
The sudden silence that followed was deafening. Mairon stood amidst the destruction he had wrought, his chest heaving with exertion and barely contained rage. Slowly, he turned to face Galadriel, his eyes searching her face, but she was not there anymore.
The dust hung in the heavy air, a shroud that veiled the ruins. His breathing was heavy from exhaustion and his hands, still radiating remnants of unleashed power, trembled as he sought to steady his breath. Amidst the broken columns and shattered stones of what had once been a temple's proud facade, a stark realization dawned on him—Tindómë was gone. He let her slip away.
A trail of chaos marked her passage, soldiers lying strewn in her wake, the calculated precision of her escape apparent even amidst the pandemonium. She planned it all - the war, the rage, the power he had to summon for Galadriel to see. She did know that side of him well. The absence of her fiery aura was like a wound in the fabric of the battle's aftermath; she had vanished as though she were never there, save for the palpable tension that hummed in the air, a silent testament to the threat she still posed. She had become an unfinished symphony, its discordant notes hanging unresolved, waiting to be played once more.
In the silence that followed the storm of his fury, Mairon found himself alone, isolated not just by the desolate scene but by the emotional rift that had widened between him and Galadriel. Her face, framed by golden hair shimmering with hints of silver, haunted his thoughts. The distance in her piercing blue eyes, reflecting sorrow and doubt, cut deeper than any weapon.
She had seen into his memories, glimpsed the sincerity of his love laid bare, yet she saw the things she shouldn't have, things he hated to show, but had no choice. The seed of mistrust Tindómë had planted grew thorns around her heart. As the settling dust began to clear, revealing the extent of the ruin, Mairon stood amidst the rubble, a solitary figure against the backdrop of devastation. He was the architect of this destruction, and perhaps, he feared, of the fracture within their bond.
With the weight of his actions pressing down upon his shoulders, he faced the rising sun, its burning light casting long shadows over the broken ground. In the dawn of the day, Mairon felt the twilight of hope, wondering if the love he had fought so fiercely to protect could ever truly mend what had been broken.
The journey back home was a somber affair. Galadriel rode at the head of their host, her back straight and eyes fixed ahead. Mairon trailed behind, giving her the space she seemed to desire. The silence between them was heavy, barely interrupted with the short phrases of necessity. She had forgiven him countless terrible things he's done to others, to her. But not this time. Her mind, usually an open book to him, was now closed off, her thoughts carefully guarded. He longed to reach out, to bridge the gap that had opened between them, but he hesitated, unsure of his welcome.
As they approached the walls of Barad-dûr, Mairon suggested they stay there for a while. He needed to see to his armies restored. They dismounted in the courtyard, servants rushing forward to tend to their horses. Galadriel paused, her hand resting on her mount's neck, before turning to face Mairon. Her blue eyes, usually so warm when they looked upon him, now held a guarded expression.
"I need time," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "To think, to process all that has happened."
More time? Like the weeks on the road in silence were not sufficient for her? Mairon suppressed his frustration and nodded, his throat tight. "Of course," he replied, fighting to keep his voice steady. "Whatever you need." In truth he wished to tell her no, he would not give her any more time, would not allow to distance herself from him like that. He was angry and hurt, and he needed her close, needed her to love him just as before. But he restrained himself, for she was the only one and the first one he would do it for.
Galadriel gave him a small nod before turning away, her golden hair catching the shimmer of the torches, as she disappeared into the tower, seeking her old chambers where it all began. Mairon watched her go, his heart heavy with regret and fear.
As night fell over Mordor, he found himself unable to rest. He walked the halls of the fortress, his mind replaying the events of the past weeks. The hurt in Galadriel's eyes, the fury that had consumed him, Tindómë's taunting words - it all swirled in his thoughts, a maelstrom of guilt and anger.
The fact that his enemy was out there, knowing full well of his home, his children, did not help. Mairon remembered well, what she did to any woman he found interesting back in the day. The toxicity of that relationship, her possessiveness repulsed him long before she was gone. This is why he felt relief when Eönwë chained her to drag to Aman. Yet it seems that she managed to escape. In any case, he needed to find her before she found his first.
Days went by, full of administrative chores, required from him to maintain his armies in a decent shape. Mairon tried to keep himself as busy as possible, not stopping for rest. He didn't really needed food or sleep. And what was the point, when Galadriel barely left her room, avoiding to cross paths with him. Her mind was still closed shut, same as her bedroom door.
Yet, every night Mairon found himself standing outside Galadriel's chambers, his hand poised to knock but unable to follow through. He could sense her presence on the other side of the door. He had been there for what felt like hours, torn between his desperate need to see her and his promise to give her space. The urge to burst in, to gather her in his arms and never let go, was almost overwhelming. Instead, he
let his hand fall to his side, pressing his forehead against the cool wood for a moment before walking away.
In his room, Mairon paced restlessly, unable to find solace even in the familiar surroundings. His eyes fell on the bed they had shared, and a wave of longing washed over him. He could almost feel the ghost of her touch on him. She was punishing him. Although deserved, it was too much. With a growl of frustration he threw whatever he held in his hands against the wall, shattering it with the loud sound. He didn't even notice what it was.
He would not - could not - let some vengeful maia poison destroy what he had built. He will go to Galadriel's room and break down this damn door if he has to. He will tell her that he can't go on like this. She can shout at him, call him names, hit him, but this silence was torture, too painful to bear. Anything but the distance.
Just as he rushed through the door, he almost collided with Galadriel, who he found standing at the threshold ready to knock. He froze there, with the hand on the door handle, staring at her. They stood motionless in silence for what felt like eternity, looking at each other. Finally, still without words uttered, Mairon pulled Galadriel inside, enveloping her into the tight hug. She did not resist, on the contrary, she wrapped her hands around his waist tightly, burying her face in his chest.
"I can't do this anymore," he finally broke the silence, his voice raw with emotion. "This distance between us... it's killing me, Galadriel. Please don't push me away." Not loosening his embrace, he asked, "Look at me, please…"
Slowly, she turned to face him. In the dim light of the room, her eyes shimmered with unshed tears.
"I love you," he said fiercely. "More than I've ever loved anything in all my lives lived. How can I make things right again? Just tell me, love, I would do anything."
"I want you," she said quietly, "all of you. Not a fraction, not a version of you, tailored to my needs. Your whole. Just as you have my whole." She paused, thinking how to put her feelings into words. "I can't have some other woman claim you, not even the part of you, Mairon."
"But you have me, meleth nîn… What do you wish me to do?"
"I want you to make love to me, just as you did to her," Galadriel looked him straight in the eyes, seeing if he understood.
Mairon released her from his arms and took a step back. "What I did with her… to her, Galadriel, was not love. And you saw it well in my memories."
Galadriel's eyes flashed, a mix of pain and determination in their depths. "I know it wasn't love. But it was passion, wasn't it? Raw and primal. You held nothing back with her. You used your original fana with her."
Mairon turned away from her. "No," he answered plainly.
"No?"
"No. I am not going to hurt you just to prove some point that you believe has to be proven," he said angrily.
"Why not? Why can't I have Mairon the maia? The one that doesn't hold back?" she almost cried in frustration.
"You don't know what you are asking for, Galadriel! Your body is not made for this. And I don't want it. I don't need to hurt you to satisfy my desires, no matter what she told you in that tent! You've had the taste of what it felt like in Numenor. I am not repeating that." He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous timbre. "The Mairon, Sauron, you saw in those memories is a being of pure, unbridled power. He does not know restraint or tenderness. He takes and consumes, and leaves nothing but ruin in his wake."
Galadriel's resolve began to waver, tears glistening in her eyes. "But how can I be sure? How can I trust that I'm enough?" Crying, she turned to leave the room, when he forcefully grabbed her arm, stopping her on her way.
Mairon's eyes blazed with intensity as he spoke, "Then let me show you; if this is really the only thing that will make you believe, that will make you to look at me again. Although the way I perceive it, it will only worsen things between us."
With that he changed his form into the one she saw in his memories. He became taller and larger, his skin glistened with hues of gold. His features were still familiar, same jawline, same lips. He was beautiful, but somehow alien.
"Undress, Galadriel," he said coldly, his gaze never wavering away from her.
Galadriel hesitated, her heart pounding. She had asked for this, demanded it even, but now faced with Mairon's initial form, doubt crept in. His golden skin shimmered with an otherworldly light, his presence filling the room with an oppressive power. She slowly began to remove her gown, her fingers trembling.
As the fabric fell away, Mairon's eyes darkened, becoming twin voids that seemed to draw in all light. He moved towards her with inhuman grace, closing the distance in a heartbeat. His hand, now larger and radiating heat, cupped her face.
"Is this what you want?" he asked, his voice resonating with barely contained power. "To be taken by a being who could obliterate you on a whim?"
Galadriel swallowed hard, unable to look away from his black eyes. "I... I need to know," she whispered.
Without warning, Mairon lifted her effortlessly, pinning her against the cold stone wall. His skin burned against hers, and she gasped at the intensity of the sensation. He claimed her mouth in a searing kiss that left her breathless and dizzy.
"Remember," he growled against her ear, "you can ask me to stop, but I am not sure that I will."
His touch became demanding, almost painful in its intensity. Galadriel cried out, overwhelmed by the raw power coursing through her. It was ecstasy and agony intertwined, pleasure so acute it bordered on suffering. She clung to him, lost in a vortex of sensation that threatened to consume her entirely.
"This is what you wanted, isn't it?" he growled, his voice resonating with otherworldly power. "To feel the full force of my nature?"
Before she could respond, his mouth crashed against hers in another a bruising kiss, splitting her lip in its fury. Galadriel felt overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of his passion, her senses reeling as waves of pleasure and pain washed over her. She clung to him desperately, her nails raking across his shimmering skin. She was scared, and deep down she wanted to scream for him to stop now, but she didn't. She didn't really know when to yield.
Mairon's hands roamed her body with urgent, almost frantic movements. Every touch left a trail of fire in its wake, and Galadriel found herself burning from within. She cried out as he entered her roughly, stretching her to her limits with his unfamiliar size. Galadriel arched against him, a strangled cry escaping her lips as he filled her completely, threatening to tear her up. The intensity was too much to bear, pleasure and pain blurring into an overwhelming rush of sensation. The pain was much more severe than she was prepared for, mahing her eyes fill with uncontrolled tears. Mairon's eyes blazed with dark fire as he moved within her, each thrust threatening to shatter her very being.
"Look at me," Mairon commanded, his voice resonating with an authority that brooked no argument, pulling her hair back so her face would level with his.
She forced her eyes open, meeting his bottomless gaze. In their depths, she saw eons of time, the rise and fall of empires, and a darkness that both terrified and enthralled her. Galadriel felt herself falling into those endless voids, losing herself in the vastness of his true nature.
Mairon's rhythm became more frantic, the force of his thrusts threatening to shatter her very being, his grip on her hips bruising in its intensity. Galadriel cried out, her body trembling on the precipice of something beyond mere physical pleasure. She could feel the very fabric of reality bending around them, warping under the force of their union.
"This is what I am," Mairon growled, his voice seeming to come from everywhere at once. "And now you have to take it. Can you accept it? Can you truly love it?"
She couldn't form words, could only cling to him as wave after wave of ecstasy mixed with pain crashed over her. Her body trembled, hovering on the edge of something both terrifying and exhilarating. Mairon's grip tightened, his fingers leaving marks on her pale skin, almost crushing her bones, as he drove them both towards release. Galadriel's answer was lost in a scream as she shattered, her climax crashing over her with the force of a tidal wave. She felt as though she was being unmade and remade, her very essence merging with Mairon's in a cataclysm of pleasure and power.
As the tremors subsided, Galadriel sagged against him, utterly spent. Mairon's form slowly shifted back to its more familiar appearance, though his eyes still smoldered with otherworldly power. He cradled her gently, a stark contrast to the rough passion of moments before.
"My Galadriel," he murmured, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. "Do you see now? You have me, have all of me. But in getting it, you are getting hurt in the process."
He carried her in his arms and put her on the bed. Galadriel closed her eyes and curled into herself, falling into a drowsy slumber. Mairon watched Galadriel's sleeping form, a mixture of love and concern etched on his features. He gently brushed a stray strand of golden hair from her face, his touch feather-light so as not to disturb her rest. The marks on her skin were already visible - he had hurt her, a lot. The memory of her cries - both of pleasure and pain - echoed in his mind.
Galadriel awoke hours later, her body aching in ways both familiar and utterly foreign. The room was bathed in the soft glow of the fireplace, and Mairon sat silently by the window, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon. She stirred, drawing his attention.
"How do you feel?" he asked, his voice low and tinged with concern.
Galadriel took a moment to assess herself, stretching carefully. "I feel... fine," she lied, unsuccessfully. She was in a lot of pain, and he felt it through their bond which was again open.
He moved to her side, covering her hand with his. "Why do you make me do it, Galadriel? Why do you make me hurt you?" he met her gaze. "This is not what I want, not what I desire. Never once I looked at you and thought that something was amiss. Every time you insist to unearth my past, we end up in the same situation. Please," he pleaded with his eyes filled with pain, "stop destroying us. Going through my past is as painful for me, as it is for you, don't you get it? And I can't say no to you, because you don't trust me, thinking that I hide something special from you, something of major importance. There is nothing more important in my past, that what we have now." Deep sigh of weariness tore from his chest.
Galadriel's eyes welled with tears as she absorbed Mairon's words. The raw emotion in his voice pierced through the last of her defenses. She reached out, cupping his face gently.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice thick with regret. "I've been so foolish, so insecure. I let Tindómë's words poison my mind, make me doubt what we have."
Mairon leaned into her touch, his eyes closing briefly. "I understand why you doubted. My past is... complicated. But Galadriel, you must believe me, because we can't go on like that, ravaging our relationship with doubt."
She nodded, tears spilling down her cheeks. "I do believe you. I see it now, so clearly. I was afraid... I don't need you to be anything other than who you are with me. The Mairon who loves me, who looks at me with such tenderness - that's the real you."
Mairon gathered her carefully into his arms, mindful of her bruised body. "You are more than enough," he murmured against her hair. "You are everything. Your love, your light - it's what keeps me anchored, what gives me purpose."
Galadriel melted into his embrace, feeling the truth of his words resonate through their bond. "I'm sorry I pushed you to that. I was wrong to doubt your love, to think I needed to compete with ghosts from your past."
Mairon pulled back slightly, meeting her gaze with intensity. "And I promise you, Galadriel, that you have all of me, the good and the bad. I trust you with every part of myself."
They sat in comfortable silence for a while, the warmth of the fire and each other's embrace soothing their battered spirits. The wounds inflicted by doubt and mistrust began to heal, replaced by a long longed for moment of peace.
"Rest now, my love," Mairon said gently, easing Galadriel back onto the pillows. "Let me take care of you."
As Galadriel drifted off to sleep, safe in Mairon's arms, she knew that the past was the past, and she would not let herself dwell on it any longer. He gave his whole to her.