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“How did you find me?”
It is the first time she has seen him since the Glanduin, and he has never looked more like Halbrand. Even in this hall, he wears simple clothes. No armor, or king's attire.
Galadriel has managed to pass his guards unseen, but he has felt her near. He has been expecting her. And his heart had hardly been able to keep up, dying of anticipation to see her again, in the flesh, after everything that had come to pass between them.
Palm facing her, she raises her hand. The ring glistens on her finger. “Nenya guided me back to you.”
Her voice quivers slightly more than she expected. She cannot help it. Seeing him again..
Sauron holds his breath as he slowly walks towards her. He can hardly believe that she is wearing one of the very rings he had helped craft. That she has given the creation, that he helped develop, a name. That she shows affection for it. “May I?”
She does not fight him, or pull away, when his hands lift. Instead, she lets him take her hand in his. He is as gentle as the breeze as he runs his fingers over the craft.
“It is beautiful,” he whispers, completely stunned at the fine work. He does not know what else to say. He hopes this is enough.
Galadriel forces her eyes away from the way he traces along the curvature of the ring to watch his eyes studying it. He notices her diverted gaze, but keeps his focus on her hand.
Galadriel drinks in the sight of him, relief flooding her to see him as she remembers Halbrand. During her journey here, a part of her expected him to have fallen completely to the darkness. That she would come to find the same Sauron that had screamed at her on that raft. That he would capture her, or torture her. Or kill her.
It is, of course, still a possibility. But he does not seem to be inclined to do her any harm. His composure is quiet and calm. A composure she had started sensing from miles away. Alone on the road, she had heard the sound of his heart whenever darkness began to surround her. It was to his beating heart that she found safety and sleep.
It was, all of it, a contradiction. Galadriel did not know how to explain it. It just… was.
Her memories simmer down when his eyes meet hers. His gaze is soft, almost hesitant. Neither of them speaks. Until he does.
“I’m sorry.” Though it is words she expects, his tone is much softer than she imagined it would be. “For what I did. For impersonating your brother. For lashing out at you.” He holds her hand completely now in both of his. He glances down at their connection, at his fingers, grazing her skin. “We should have just... talked.”
Galadriel gulps down a growing lump in her throat. She has come here to say the same thing, after all.
“And I am sorry for lashing out at you,” she says quietly.
His eyes snap to look at her, the same way he did in Númenor, when she had admitted to her family starting the war.
She is not lying about being sorry. She has defied every command to remain in the city from the high king. She knows all of the elves think she ran to kill Sauron on her own. But they are, all of them, wrong. She came here to apologize to him instead. She knows fighting him will never lead to anything other than more violence and war, so they must find another way.
She reacted instinctively, driven by her emotions, next to the Glanduin. But time has passed now, and she has used it to think. To replay their time together. To reevaluate her prejudice of Sauron.
He was right. He never lied to her. And the way he has been, with her, with those around him, has only gone to show that there can be goodness in Sauron.
She knows she will gain nothing by seeking his anger and opposing him. Not with their power imbalance.
One cannot satisfy thirst by drinking seawater.
She, no they, have a chance to end this cycle of revenge. To end the bloodshed.
“Galadriel,” he sighs. “I, more than anyone, understand your anger.”
“As I understand yours.” She pinches her lips. “But you were right. You were telling me the truth. And even if what you did was deceive me, you were not only one doing so. I did nothing but manipulate the man I knew as Halbrand. Molding him into what I wanted him to be. I was wrong, to do so. And to place all the blame on you, on that raft.”
“And yet your blame is justified. For I still lied by omission. I never spoke full truths.”
“For good reason.”
Another moment of silence.
“I did not mean to hurt you, Galadriel.” His eyes glisten as he looks between her eyes. “Can we... talk now?”
Galadriel studies him.
“Yes,” she whispers. It is what she came here for, after all.
Still holding her hand, Sauron leads her to a bench lining the wall. He breaks their contact when they sit down.
It is there that he begins telling her of his time with Morgoth. Of how things had come to pass, with Beren and Finrod. Galadriel listens.
“I cannot say that I did not mean to cause harm. But it was never supposed to be Finrod. I have no quarrels with you. Even if you have every right to hate me.”
“And I do,” Galadriel starts, candidly. “But that lingering sentiment will not help heal Middle-earth.”
His attention perks up at her words. “What do you suggest?”
“Give yourself up,” she attempts. “Seek redemption. Ask for forgiveness from the Valar.”
Sauron lets out a laugh, shaking his head, rubbing his hands together. “They will cast me to the void to join my former master.”
Galadriel looks over to him. They will listen to you, is on the tip of her tongue. But she knows the promise is a lie, and so she cannot speak it.
In truth, she cannot know what will happen, even if she suspects he is right. She knows she is not the only one with hatred in her veins for Sauron. The grievances he has with the Valar run deep and are as old as time.
He turns to her with a little smirk, long hair swinging ever so slightly. “Forgive me if I value my life more than the consequences of my past crimes.”
His words make Galadriel think of her journey to Valinor. Of the way she defied those direct orders of her high king. Of the way she had defied them all but a week ago. He isn’t the only one rebelling against the order of things. And it seems she isn’t the only one who cannot stop fighting.
“So what then?” she asks him earnestly. “Will you keep up this charade of Halbrand?”
He gives her a little smile, and Galadriel thinks she sees the smallest hint of an eye roll. “It is not a charade.”
“You mean to say it is a genuine attempt to change?”
“Halbrand is…” he looks down and lifts his hand to hold his pouch, “who I want to be.”
Galadriel slowly shakes her head, staring at the way his thumb moves over the sigil. “You think that will work? That you would play Halbrand until you become him fully one day?”
He gives her a look. “Why not?”
“Your secret will be uncovered, sooner or later. It will spread. The elves will find out.”
He looks at her lips. “Yes. It will happen. One day.” His gaze finds her blue eyes again. “I had hoped but for a few more years. I knew it would not be long until I was discovered, that my time was running all the shorter the moment I met you on that raft. I knew I shouldn’t have followed you to Middle-earth. I could have stayed a low man in Númenor and helped the mortals where I could. Without you at my side, my chances of living out a normal life of my own, leaving my past behind, would have been much higher.”
Galadriel takes a shaky breath, asking a question for which she fears the answer. “Why then did you join me?”
She wonders whether it is his thirst for power that pushed him to accept the role of king. But she isn’t entirely sure.
“Because of you,” he looks at her like he did on that log. “I did not lie, Galadriel. You bind me to the light. I could not let that go.” He sighs as he gazes down at his calloused hands. “I thought I was prepared for you to discover the truth. I thought I was ready for your reaction. For you to cast me out. But it is clear as day that I never was. That is why I ran away, after the Glanduin. I could not face you. Not after all the mistakes I made in that vision, governed by emotions I could not control... And the things I put you through... For centuries, especially after Morgoth’s defeat, I have often wondered whether I still had a soul. Whether I... had a heart.” He lets out a little exhale. “Those questions were answered in Eregion. For my heart broke that day.”
A shudder moves through Galadriel.
“Truth be told,” he confesses, and Galadriel thinks she sees his arms trembling, “in my long existence, I have never had a friend like you. I have never… felt… this,” his voice cracks and he looks away, as if trying to hide tears.
Galadriel makes an effort to control her faltering breathing as she witnesses Sauron so vulnerable. His emotions feel raw and unmasked, like he is baring himself fully to her. Like he trusts her.
A hand reaches out for his. His face rushes to glare at her fingers clenching his, holding onto him.
“I meant what I said, Halbrand.” At the choice of name, he turns to her again. His eyes are glossy, tear streaks drawn down his cheeks. “I felt it too.”
But he shakes his head. “You said it yourself. I am not that man,” he whispers in all honesty.
“Yet.”
Sauron gasps silently as all his thoughts collapse from one moment to the next. He blinks at her. He cannot even fathom it. Galadriel. That she would believe in him. She isn’t casting him out, she isn’t-
“Will you stay with me?” he blurts out in nothing more than a whisper, eyes moving between hers.
She cups his cheek, the tender motion filled with so much affection that his eyes flutter instinctively.
He knows he doesn’t deserve this. Not after everything he has done. But he cannot get enough of it.
Her thumb traces over his stubble, brushing away a fresh tear. She tries not to cry herself as she shakes her head, speaking to his lips. “If that is what you wish.”
“Yes,” he croaks. He has never felt as alone than he did after they had parted ways. It is the worst mistake he has made in his existence. Since that day, her heartbeats have been the only sound that mattered to him. Nothing else.
His hand softly presses over hers as he turns his head to graze her palm with his lips. He cannot get enough of her. “Stay. Please.”
Galadriel leans closer until her forehead presses against his. She feels whole again. He pulls his arms around her, holding her close. Her hands, in turn, wrap around the back of his head. He can feel her light. He can be forgiven.
“I will,” she promises.
Sauron’s heart breaks for the last time when Galadriel eventually goes back on that promise.
He vows to never love again.