Chapter Text
The waves were roiling and pulsating seductively. Galadriel, commander of the armies, scourge of orcs, long running champion of best bitchface in Valinor for at least a thousand years was feeling sad.
You know she was sad because of the way she stared at the dagger she’d pulled off her dead brother. It was sharp and pointy like a phallic object. With that dagger she’d unlocked her ultimate girl-boss self. She needed it. Besides it wasn’t like she’d studied with Melian the Maia or anything like that. Galadriel was tough and didn’t bother with things like wisdom or learning. She stared at the dagger on the ship. Tears pooled in her baby blue orbs. Emotional music swelled in the background
None of it mattered anymore. Her immortal brother was dead, and she had to avenge him. It wasn’t like she’d ever see him again in Valinor. Everyone knows when elves die, they stay dead. They have the gift of death unlike mortals who just reincarnate again and again.
Another wave crashed against the ship. To get her revenge she’d have to swim all the way back to middle earth. Life was so hard. Luckily Galadriel was a relentless swimmer.
She grabbed the dagger and leapt into the sea—the merciless, sexy sea. She wouldn’t drown because she was the protagonist.
When she leapt into the sea she thought of her dead brother again. What was his name again? Arondir? Finrod? Adar? She’d had memory problems ever since she’d gotten daintily leapt into the air off a sword to slay a cave troll with her Badass Galadriel Moves.
But that was beside the point. Her brother had once told her something about rocks and boats. Rocks look down so they sink, and boats look up, so they float. He was such a good brother. Wise beyond his years and kind to her when all the little elf kids bullied her for being a princess and stunningly talented at everything she did. She kept her eyes on the sky. His words surrounded her like a warm hug. She whimpered and sea water shot up her nose. She had to survive for him. She’d go back to middle earth and hunt down Sauron herself because every other elf was just so phenomenally useless.
She swam for a while and then she found some mortals on a ship. How lucky! Hunting down Sauron should be a breeze.
“We can’t let you on our boat,” some filthy mortals said to her.
“Let me on your boat,” she commanded. (Guys, she’s a strong commander if you couldn’t already tell. Yassss queen, slay!!!!!)
“Oh, alright, I guess,” one rather gritty looking mortal said.
They helped her up, and she sneered at them as politely as she could. They looked like people whose families might have sided with Morgoth. She had an eye for these things, because of all the years she’d spent unsuccessfully trying to track down Sauron.
“This is a really shitty boat, you know.” She said helpfully. Mortals were so dumb and uneducated. She would do them the favor and let them know how stupid she thought they were.
“It’s a raft,” one of the less ragged mortals said, “our ship was attacked.” (She wasn’t going to assume their gender because she was Galadriel, and she was Good; and also Amazon has Quotas to fill.)
“Really?”
“Ay, by some great beast of the sea.” She looked over the ship’s multicultural, diverse inhabitants with her commander’s eye. She could definitely get these guys to paddle her back to Middle Earth.
“Who are you, though? And how did you end up in the middle of the ocean? Was your ship also attacked?” These were all reasonable questions. Galadriel scowled. How dare the vaguely attractive mortal question her.
“Sorry,” he said with a charming smile. “I’m Saur—” he coughed suddenly, “Halbrand.”
“Oi, that’s not what you said earlier, mate!” One of the racially ambiguous crewmates said.
Galadriel sneered briefly at him then turned her attention back to the more charismatic speaker. “And the name of your house?”
He nodded masculinely. “Yeah, it’s Just Halbrand.”
There was something off about this guy. She couldn’t tell what though. Her Galadriel senses were tingling and that meant bad news. Something else was tingling too, though: arousal. She’d never felt this way about any guy before. She didn't have a husband or a child for some reason. And besides, you can't be a powerful woman and be in a loving relationship with an equally competent man which results in a daughter. It was so unfair that she’d feel this way about a disheveled southerner.
She fluttered her lashes at him. “I’m Galadrial Orcsbane of the House Feanorian—”
“Huge sea monster. Get off our ship!” One of the mortals shrieked then shoved her back into the sea as if to appease the hungry eldritch creature. Unluckily for her Galadriel was faster in the sea then on land. She motorboated away with her powerful swimming muscles.
…
Too bad about the raft, she’d just have to keep swimming.
But then out of the mist was Halbrand on an even shittier raft. He helped her on. She glared at him.
“What happened to your friends?”
“Sea monster got them.” He frowned.
“Why didn’t it eat you?”
His eyes turned dark and ponderous and distant. “I’d probably have given it indigestion.”
His lank hair and unshaven face was really doing things for her. He splashed some more water on his face and smoldered at her.
She flushed. He was manipulating her lower impulses. She glared at him again.
“I do not need your help, and I will not thank you for saving my life. I could have swum back to middle earth. My eyes I would have fixed on the stars and the skies. I would not have sunk.”
Halbrand raised a perfect seductive eyebrow. “Whatever you say, love.”
She glared at him again.
“Look, I just don’t understand.” He raised his hands nonthreateningly. Galadriel’s hands twitched for her brothers’ dagger still sheathed in its scabbard. “What would you eat out here?”
“There are fish aplenty, as we have just seen. Had your friend not thrown me from your first shoddily built ship I might have slayed that beast.”
“With what? That little dagger of yours?”
She sniffed. “You have not seen half of what I am capable of.”
“Clearly not.” His brows rose higher. “But what of water? Surely, you would have perished of thirst before reaching Arda?”
This time she frowned. “There is water all around us, Halbrand.”
“Saltwater. Anyone would kill themselves drinking that.”
“It harms you little if your heart is pure and noble.” Judgmentally, she attempted to look down at him. He was still taller than her for some irritating reason. “Is your heart so black that you would not dare to taste the cleansing waters of the Sundering Seas?”
Halbrand shook his head and stared out into the distance poignantly. He did not answer her.
…
“Welcome to Numenor, Galadriel.” Halbrand said in a way that was somehow both flirtatious and mocking.
“These are a noble people. Unlike yours who once aligned with Morgoth.”
“Rude, Galadriel,” he said. “I did save your life, didn’t I? I went out of my way for no nefarious reasons at all to help you out when for some reason you decide to look down out in the ocean. Aren’t I noble and good-natured?” He sniffed suddenly than turned to peer inside a forge.
“That a forge?” He asked one of their escorts.
“Yep. Why do you ask?”
“No reason. Say could I do some forging in there? Nothing crazy. Just something small and very harmless like a ring.”
Besides him Galadriel’s heart skittered in her chest. Why would Halbrand want to make a ring? Did he like-like her? He had saved her life… but it was too dangerous for him. She was on a quest to take down Sauron, Halbrand was only a frail mortal.
“You would probably have to be apprenticed first. Got to have a guild badge, you know. Numenor is famous for her technical colleges.”
Halbrand nodded studiously. “A guild badge…” He trailed off ominously.
…
“I am Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen. The First of Her Name, the Unburnt, Queen of Meereen, Queen of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons.” Galadriel said to the Queen Regent, Tar-Miriel.
Besides her Halbrand whispered. “I thought you said your name was Galadriel?” His eyes grew wide and teary and he raised his hand over his heart. “Did you lie to me?”
“Whoops,” Galadriel said. “Sorry, guys. I’m Galadriel Orcsbane of the house of Feanor—oh, sorry again, the house of Finarfin—”
“That’s bloody enough of that,” the Queen Regent Miriel said imperiously.
Everyone shut up immediately. Eyes latched onto the sight of two girl-bosses confronting each other for the first time. It was a tense moment.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Halbrand started, “But why are you the queen regent? I heard that your cousin Ar-Pharazon had seized Numenor’s sceptor and forced you into a tragic marriage against your will. And you’re related to him too, so why do you look so incredibly different from the man? Will there be explanation for this or is this yet another moment of logical inconsistency in a very flawed show?”
“Forgive him,” Galadriel said. “He is but a southerner. His understanding of the world is flawed.”
Miriel nodded sagely. “He speaks strangely. Almost as if he possesses some greater knowledge. But never mind that. For what purpose do you come to Numenor?”
“I did not want to go to Valinor where my dead brother would have been shortly reincarnated. So I jumped off the ship into the ocean.”
“The sea is always right,” a courtier interjected, nodding with vivid interest. “Great idea.” He was noticeably drunk. Wine splashed on his face as he took another long drought from his cup.
Galadriel stared at him with some interest. “You are wise for one so young. Do you understand that rocks sink because they look downwards, and boats float because they look up?”
The man gasped then laughed hysterically for a moment. “Who are you so wise in the ways of Science?”
“I am Galadriel the orc slayer, firstborn child, elder than even wise Celebrimbor, I’ve invented a moisturizer that takes years off and—”
“We’ve really heard enough about you.” Halbrand said lowly besides her. “Try not to be rude, you’re embarrassing me in front of all the mortals I plan to corrupt.”
“Corrupt?” Galadriel inquired with bated breath. Her hand flashed downwards to where she usually kept her brother’s dagger. It was missing. She glared at the one who had taken her symbol of masculine feminine strength.
Halbrand shook his head. “I misspoke. I meant to say construct positive working relationships with. We could really bond over religion, you know, and our shared mortality.”
The tension seeped away. “Oh, alright, cool.”
He smiled in a way that was only mildly patronizing. Galadriel could not gut him, so she turned back to her political adversary. She’d use all her thousands of years of experience social and political experience to charm Miriel into giving her what she wanted.
Miriel stared down at them placidly.
“If you don’t give me a boat, I’m going to pull a Feanor and slaughter your people. I have to track down Sauron; it’s what I do. I’m relentless, obsessed and filled with piss and vinegar.”
“Tactless.” Halbrand murmured besides her. He was probably talking about Miriel’s stunned expression. Kind of rude to not respond to her request immediately.
“Look, we can’t just give you a boat.” Pharazon said from behind Miriel like a generic evil advisor.
Galadriel glared at him and stomped her foot. “Give me a boat,” she whined, “Give it to me or I swear I’ll swim back to middle earth. Who cares that it’s thousands of miles away. I’ll do it because I’m Galadriel, the protagonist that everyone loves and adores.”
She stomped her foot again. “So much like my children when they were but children.” Elendil said warmly. His eyes watered.
“I shan’t give you a boat,” Miriel said.
“Then the blood shall be on your hands.” Galadriel menaced. She glared out at the commoners who flinched back at her merciless gaze.
Halbrand stepped up. “I’m Halbrand, a perfectly ordinary guy who has a keen appreciation for forges. Nothing evil about me. Lovely, Tar-Míriel—”
“It’s Queen, actually.” Galadriel said besides him snidely.
“Perhaps just give us a few days. Surely we can come to some arrangement.”
“Well, he has some sense for political maneuvering," Pharazon chimed in behind Miriel.”
“I tire of this. Take your three days.” Miriel waved her hand. “Restrict the elf’s movements though; she irritates everyone she encounters.”
…
Mairon had known something was off the minute he found himself drifting on a raft with a bunch of southlanders in the middle of the sea. The ocean scared him for good reasons. He wouldn’t willing join a rag tag group that had apparently wanted to do Something? What that thing was he couldn’t tell. He also couldn’t tell why he’d guised himself as a mere mortal man. It was drastically out of character considering he hated the race of men.
Worse, one of the greatest threats to his power, Artanis, had inconveniently swam up to the raft these incompetents had patched together after a sea monster accident.
But unlike the Galadriel that he had once known, who had stared him down and recognized something of his cruel designs in his eyes, this one appeared addled, childish, and oddly dense. He’d practically told her who he was, yet her eyes remained glazed, unseeing and without the light of the two trees.
Something was just off. He was getting headaches. He never got headaches. Yet after dealing with Galadriel’s petulant outburst during a meeting with the so called royals of Numenor, he was feeling mildly more pain then ever before.
He moaned and sunk to his knees.
“I’m getting the strange impulse to steal a guild badge. It’s iddiotic. It’s impractical. I could seduce Pharazon; I could seduce Miriel far more efficiently with an actual strategy. Nor would I have to be imprisoned as I once was. I'm not impulsive. I'm methodical and willing to play the slow game. I could discover a way to earn a guild badge if I put in the effort."
He cried out once more. The pain wracked through his skull.
"Something, something strange is happening to me."
...
Later, annoyed with the decent but not decadent treatment she had been getting, Galadriel absconded from her prison and found her way down to the docks. If they would not give her a boat, she would steal it Feanorian style. Elrond would complain but she did not give a shit about his delicate feelings. Sacrifices had to be made to achieve noble goals. And her goal was the noblest and goodest because she was noble and good.
Elendil might be the first victim of this second(sort of)kinslaying.
“I’ll gut you before you can even scream,” Galadriel told him.
“I’m here to take you to look at our elvish lore library. Maybe you can find answers to some of your questions.”
“I’d rather start swimming honestly. I’ve never been one for learning.”
“You can ride a horse there if you like. Might calm you down a bit.”
“I love horses. Maybe even more than Daniel Radcliffe in the 2008 performance of Equus.”
“What?”
“You have not seen what I have seen Elendil.”
“Huh?”
“You have not seen.”
…
“You seemed to have enjoyed yourself,” Elendil said as Galadriel swayed of her horse with a sigh of contentment. “Come. Look at all our rare artifacts.”
Galadriel, did, of course. Who knew libraries could be so useful? She got all sorts of intel on Sauron’s whereabouts and evil schemes and got to see such a nice fingerpainting of Elrond and his twin brother Elros. They looked so much alike it was crazy. Numenorian art was so advanced and gorgeous.
And it turned out Halbrand was a king. What a hunk. What a catch.
Even better, she’d get to ride her horsey back to Numenor.