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Three rings were forged. Was it this easy, to save themselves? It couldn’t be. This was but a maze of dominoes, and the pieces were just falling, falling, toppling one another, and she wasn’t strong enough to stop them. A worry for another day. She hadn’t lied to Elrond, nor Celebrimbor, not really, and yet she told half-truths, slithered like a snake away from admitting why she had sent their newly minted saviour away, why he was no longer welcome in Eregion. She, Galadriel, unleashed Sauron. She, Galadriel, gave her foe the key to the city, and set him free. I am just like him after all.
Galadriel felt ill. Walking alone at night through the city, her city, the one she knew so well, was no longer freeing but suddenly closed off and alien, the trees – judging, the night air – whispering, the paths – leading astray. Lands not lush but as barren as the Southlands covered in ash.
The door to her quarters, at last, solid. She slid inside and shut it hard, willing the world outside to shut itself away from her with just as much force. She leaned against the heavy wood, her solace, eyes closed, a welcome darkness. A solitude to take her at last. A minute passed. An age. She opened her eyes again to adjust them to the silver-blue light of the night, delicate like a spider-web, fluttering and shimmering for her alone. Since when has Darkness become my salvation? Quiet, so quiet. A rustle of her dress. The padding of her footsteps. A breath, but not hers.
“I thought I sent you away.”
“I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye.” Whispered Halbrand, moving to stand almost face-to-face with the elf. His face sharp and beautiful, a carving in stone. His eyes bright, glinting like the steel of a dagger.
The sudden closeness had Galadriel reeling. A rush of rage she’d felt back in the raft he had constructed in her mind, the one that was gone and was replaced with a leaden sorrow that drained her all night, at once crashed over her like a deadly wave all over again.
The elf slapped his cheek, hard, loud, surprising herself. Halbrand’s, no, Sauron’s, she had to remind herself, hand was on her wrist at once, an unnatural speed. In one fluid motion, he trapped her own arm behind her back, spun the elf around to pin her against the door, her face against the cold wood, her hands clasped above her head, his breath hot and uneven against her ear.
“Ouch.” Was all he said, inhaling deeply, his nose against the skin just behind her ear.
“Is this what you came for? To sniff me like some beast?” Galadriel was panting, furious, her heartbeat thundering somewhere in her throat. Halbrand’s form was a solid taut weight caging her in, imposing, all muscle, a hard line of his desire against her lower back. Of course, she thought, hot anger mixing with something else entirely, making the elf’s head spin.
“I came for you.” The man, the creature, replied. “Tell me to stop.”
“Don’t stop.”
Halbrand released her hands from his painful grip then. His mouth was on her neck at once, licking and nipping and sucking. He’s leaving marks. His hands were roaming over her curves, hurriedly unclasping the intricate chains adorning her dress. They clanked loudly on the floor, inelegant and discordant. Galadriel felt herself getting wet, angry at her lack of self-restraint, at being unable to deny him. As if reading her mind, Halbrand pushed up her skirts and reached between her legs, fingers circling over and over her clit, reaching to slide and press against her wetness. All the elf was do was release a breathy moan, surrendering. Don’t you dare stop.
“I will miss this.” He whispered quietly, reverently. This made Galadriel’s blood boil with fury.
“Don’t you dare!” She hissed, annoyed, pushing him away forcefully, spinning around to pounce on her foe, a move perfected in battle. “You don’t get to say this to me.” She toppled the man to the ground, going down with him. She sat straddling him, chest heaving, her sharp talons were digging painfully into his torso. A huntress with her prey. “I should have let you die.” Galadriel said, the shakiness of her voice betraying her words.
“Why didn’t you?” His hands were on her thighs, a firm possessive grip.
“I hate you.” She rolled her hips against his. “I hate you; I hate you.” A prayer on her lips. She kept repeating her motion, mesmerized by the frustrated grunts of her enemy beneath her. Too much fabric was separating them. She dug her nails firmly into his tunic and pulled, trying claw it off, as if it was the cloth that had caused her all this despair. Halbrand’s breeches were next. Galadriel unlaced them hurriedly, taking his hard cock in hand, grip firm and determined.
Sauron surged up to capture her mouth in his. The elf responded in an instant, letting her tongue slide against his, hungrily. He tangled his fingers in her hair, gripping painfully, deepening the kiss, like it could be the last thing he ever does. See what you do to me? I need you. Suddenly, he felt the sharp sting of his lip painfully bitten, skin broken. The elf triumphant, wild, now kissing down his throat. Another bite, skin broken there too now. She’s leaving marks, taking pieces of me. Soon, she will leave nothing, and I might let her.
“Greedy.” He swiftly stripped her off her dress, taking a moment to admire Galadriel in his lap, her skin in the moonlight, pale and ethereal, a creature from the world beyond this earth. “You reject me, and yet you mark me as your own.”
“It’s only fair. Your marks on me, and mine on you. Something to remember me by when you find yourself a castle where you sulk and plan the Middle Earth’s demise, whatever it is you do in your spare time.” She looked furious, victorious, and yet Halbrand couldn’t take his eyes off hers, looking at him, through him. He had meant to disappear tonight, leave to the Southlands, continue with his goal - queen, or no queen, who cares. In the grand scheme of things, Galadriel was unimportant. Her rejection had stung but only because he was sure he’d had her, wasn’t that right? He could have, should have left her for dead. He shouldn’t have let himself be swayed, played her games. And yet. The broken skin of lips was still throbbing as he wrapped them around a peaked nipple, sucking, worrying it with his teeth, leaving it stained from his bloodied lip. She whined, writhed in his lap, wet, wanting, needing, as much as him. He would make sure she remembers him, aches for him for all eternity, like she condemned him to.
Halbrand continued to her other breast as he felt Galadriel move, guiding herself over his aching cock, dripping wet and making him slick with her juices. How dare you? He thought. How dare you own me so completely? His hands on her hips, pulling her down flush against him. She’s so tight. No more space between them. Their eyes locked on each other. You feel divine. See how we fit together?
Galadriel’s forehead resting on his. Her breath, shaky. Her hands on his chest. What are you doing to me?
“I hate you.” She heard him growl. You don’t.
“You don’t.” She moved now, chasing the aching pleasure hard and fast, feeling Halbrand’s rigid length fill her completely. “Show me.” You feel so good inside me.
The elf felt a sudden tilt of balance, lifted up and now hard on her back. Her lover, her enemy, between her legs, still deep inside her, frenzied, his pace a brutal force. You alone see me. She wrapped her legs around his waist, encouraging, tilting her hips to give him better access, to have him deeper. They move fluidly, in unison, a single form. The world around them cold, quiet, abuzz with the mingled sounds of their breaths, the slapping of skin on skin. Am I good for you?
Her arms around him, nails leaving painful marks on his back.
“Fuck.” Halbrand rasped. “I don’t think you hate me either.” I’m yours.
“Shut up” Galadriel panted, her pleasure on the precipice, and she – on fire, burning, burning. It’s like you were made for me. I am so close. “Don’t you fucking dare stop now.” She hissed. My Dark Lord, Sauron, she thought.
“I’m never going to stop, you know it.” Halbrand had meant to make this sound like a threat, but it came out like a confession. He felt Galadriel tightening around him, a vise-like grip, his burning prison, and he is bound oh-so sweetly. “Say it.” I think I love you.
“Yes.” She moaned. I think I love you.
“I’m so close”, and “Come for me.” In unison.
If pure extasy existed, this was it to Galadriel, this - her walls contracting, her coming harder than she’d ever done before, a little death in itself. She felt Sauron, no, Halbrand, follow her over the edge, his rhythm catching and stuttering and he was pulsing inside her, and she could feel him everywhere. His breath, his sweat, his seed. Their hands tangled, his face in crook of her neck, and she – not willing to let go.
When they finally untangled, Galadriel felt bereft and empty. “You have to go.” She levelled him with a look.
“I know.” Don’t look at her like that.
She paused. “This form.” Her eyes traversing up and down.
“You like it?” He smiled, a lopsided thing, boyish, proud.
“You made it for me.”
“I did.” He nodded. “I said I came for you. It was no lie.”
She gulped. Stay strong. “Take care of it.”
“For you, anything.” My Queen.
“I suppose I should take you at your word then…” She trailed off lightly. “That the Lord of the Darkness won’t stop so easily.”
“You know it.” He was a fish on her hook.
“I’ll see you, then.” Never stop.
“Your place or mine?”