Chapter Text
* * *
First, there was light so golden, Galadriel could perceive nothing but its immense beauty. In her shock at its brilliance, it reminded her of the light of Laurelin, the last remnants she had seen blazing throughout the sky before Morgoth thrust his spear into the trees and Ungoliant feasted upon their roots like a ravenous beast, sucking the light dry as her venom poisoned the beauty that lied within. Golden and so warm it was, bathing her in such bliss as she had not known since she had left Valinor’s shores with her brother so long ago.
To see it again as the curtain between worlds parted for her once more to welcome her back into its fold, even from afar on the bow of a ship, it sent such an ache deep within Galadriel—that Finrod was not here, standing at her side to witness it with her. It caused her to turn her head to the side, her eyes glancing down at Finrod’s dagger, which at some point had been dropped down to the planks by the Elf who had wrested it away from her grip, though it was nowhere near her discarded armor. Galadriel stared at it, thinking of her brother—
—But the music, so rich and pure, sang out to her, too. A melody from the Undying Lands themselves, calling her back to its shores. A fated song all Elves heard throughout their lives, sometimes distant, sometimes as close as their own heartbeat within their chest, ringing in her ears as she stared down at her brother’s dagger.
Until another voice, just as light and pure as the one before, sang out in a different language from across the waters, pulling Galadriel’s gaze away from Finrod’s dagger.
Nampat burzum-ank . . .
Her heartbeat quickened. That language. It was not her cradle-tongue of Quenya, nor was it Sindarin, but it rang out high and pure as if it came from the Western Shores, yet Galadriel knew what it was. She knew what it meant.
It was the Black Speech of Sauron.
Suddenly, the music did not sound like music anymore. It sounded to Galadriel like the heavy beat of war drums in her heart. Slowly, she began to back away from the bow of the ship, even as Thondir reached out his hand to her and called to her—but even amidst the drums in her heart, Thondir’s voice was nothing more than a distant echo behind the thunderous beat.
At the last moment, she reached for Thondir’s hand as the veil of light grew brighter and brighter all around them in a curtain of blinding glory, but still, the drum beats in her heart and the sweet voice singing to her carried a warning in its perceived halo that only served to make her feel its pull taut against the rope within her, pulling her back.
That sweet voice carried on the wind gliding between the wings of the sea gulls floating above the sails of their ship, the distant music of Valinor lost in raging drumbeat of her heart, and Galadriel looked forward at last, feeling a tear fall down her cheek as the golden wash of blinding light seared into her eyesight—and she realized, then, what she must do.
She leapt from that ship with her brother’s dagger tight in hand, breaking through the surface of the calm waves into the vast waters of Belegaer with one thought in mind—her mission was not yet over, and her search for Sauron was not yet done.
Galadriel broke through the waves, drawing in a deep breath as she witnessed the curtain of golden light closing—until she was left in darkness, a softer blue of almost light that was not truly there, just a dim cast of reflection of something so far away from her.
It left her floating aimlessly amongst the waves with her head above water, but her heart sunken so deep by the pull of the vast, imminent darkness below.
Galadriel steeled herself against the sudden cold depths of Belegaer sloshing against her slight frame and turned away from the closed curtain, doing the only thing left to her now.
She swam.
* * *
Galadriel thought she had found safety, or at least a temporary reprieve from her endless swim, when she found the wreckage of a ship with survivors on board its unstable wooden planks, but then the Worm came—and she swam again, determined not to meet her end on this raging sea.
When the waves had calmed and it seemed the Worm had its full of feasting on the bodies, Galadriel saw the spiked poles through the mist—a smaller raft, but the Man was upon it, and it seemed he was rowing straight towards her. Unbidden, she swam towards his raft.
His look was not pleasant. He had an unsavory touch to him, an unscrupulous look written all over his face as he knelt down to stare at her before ever even offering his hand to help.
The Man said nothing, though, merely extended his arm to her at last, and Galadriel grasped it as he hoisted her onto the makeshift raft, accepting his help because, in truth, she had nowhere else to turn on so wide a sea.
She fell to the planks, gasping for breath to be steady and stationary instead of floating at sea. Well, as stationary as what could be expected on a jostling raft in the middle of an ocean.
The water jug was a grateful offering, for it quenched her thirst and calmed the turmoil of her mind, and then he asked her a question.
“What are you called?”
Galadriel looked at him, almost glaring daggers in his direction. She did not like his initial denial to accept her upon the other raft, but now that he had come to help her, she shoved the feeling down and buried it within her chest, trying to feel more grateful for his help.
She did not like him, though.
“Galadriel,” she finally answered him, and it was strange to her. He seemed to smile at that.
“I’m Halbrand,” he announced, almost cheerful for one to be caught at sea for as long as he had been. It caused her distrust to grow, but what other choice did she have?
Halbrand was her only companion now, and either they would die together out here—or, together, they would survive.
“What’s our heading?” he asked so readily, and for a moment, it almost made Galadriel forget they were lost at sea. The Man, Halbrand, made it sound as if they were on an adventure together instead of stranded out here on the great waves of the Sundering Seas.
“Land,” Galadriel answered him in a deadpan voice, and he did something unexpected, then.
He laughed.
“I didn’t know Elves had a sense of humor,” he told her, and Galadriel rolled her eyes at his attempt to make a joke in such a situation.
“Well, what else would you suggest?” she threw back at him, glaring at his smug, smiling face.
“Feral, too,” Halbrand said next, still grinning. He glanced ahead at the sloshing waters as far as the eye could see in all directions. “Land sounds good right about now,” he agreed. “You won’t have any objections from me.”
“Good,” Galadriel replied, turning away from him. There was something about his smile that made her uncomfortable, though she could not place it. Perhaps it was his cheerful disposition despite the horrors they had just faced and the fact that all of his companions had just been eaten, and yet he seemed as if he could not care less than he did right now.
No person should seem so carefree after something so horrific.
“Which direction do you think is land?” Halbrand went on, intent to keep the conversation flowing despite the bite in her voice.
Sea mist rose all about them, and Galadriel could not tell herself just by looking ahead, so she looked above at the sky, but even for her Elven eyesight, the clouds were so thick that it appeared as if no stars could shine through them in order to help guide their way.
“I am not sure,” she admitted. “The clouds are too thick for me to tell.” She chanced a glance in his direction, and Halbrand quirked his eyebrows up at that.
“I’m surprised you can’t see past them,” he said. “I thought Elves had impeccable eyesight.”
“Have you ever met an Elf before?” she demanded, returning to her glare towards him once more. The unsettling undercurrent was still there, roiling at her.
He merely kept up his smile, unperturbed by her overt attitude.
“Once or twice,” he replied coyly, and he left at that, saying nothing more.
Galadriel quickly averted her gaze, trying to find something else other than him to focus on for a moment. “Clearly, not long enough for you to know anything about us.”
“Is that any way to be towards your savior?”
“Savior?” Galadriel snapped, whirling her head towards him once more. She could not believe her ears.
“I didn’t have to come back for you, you know,” Halbrand finally said with a far more serious tone, no more of his inappropriate amusement barely kept at bay. He readjusted the oar in his hands, dipping it down into the water. He sounded a little put out, possibly upset, but his gaze no longer lingered on her now. Instead, it lingered on the vast sea ahead of them. “A little gratefulness couldn’t hurt you.”
She had to bite her tongue. Gratefulness. He dared to talk to her in such a way, but she bit her tongue because, in a way, he was right. In a way, he had helped rescue her. Man or not, and regardless about how she felt of his overall attitude and means for survival, he did deserve a little bit of gratefulness from her.
It took a lot for her to admit it, though.
Galadriel tasted the tang of iron on her tongue from biting down too hard on it.
“Thank you,” she said through nearly gritted teeth.
Halbrand grinned at her. That same infuriating grin as before. She saw it from the corner of her eyes, the shine of his teeth.
He liked having an affect on her.
He turned his infuriating amusement towards the sea again, still grinning widely. “You’re welcome,” he announced cheerfully. “Maybe together we can find land,” Halbrand then added, a streak of something more serious coming to fruition.
That, or they would die together.
It was not the most pleasant thought.
“Perhaps,” Galadriel answered him, her voice less judgmental than it had been before.
“Well,” Halbrand told her airily, “we either find land or we die trying, and neither one of us seems quite the type keen on giving up so easily.”
That caused Galadriel to look at him. Truly look at him. He was right about that. He seemed rather proficient to have made it this far, and to still have fight in him to go further, he had no intention of giving up—and she, too, was not without her rough edges. Defeat was not something Galadriel would ever accept.
She had turned away from the veil of Valinor, refusing entry in order to hunt down the one responsible for the death of her brother.
Sauron.
Chance companions at sea, they were, but Galadriel ought to be grateful for what gifts the Valar sought fit to bestow upon her in her abject refusal to their lands, even if it was just a makeshift raft halfway in pieces helmed by a questionable Man named Halbrand.
“We find land,” Galadriel announced, raising her eyes upward to look at his face. Despite the sloshing of the raft, it was clear he was a tall Man. He stood much taller than her, though it was not imposing.
Halbrand turn to her as well, the corner of his mouth almost curling into a smile. Halfway. Not quite.
“We,” he repeated, an interesting and curious gleam in his eyes. “I like the sound of that.”
“—Or we die trying,” Galadriel finished pointedly, ignoring the intimate way in which he spoke to her.
Halbrand’s eyebrows shot up. “I do not like the sound of that,” he said. Another jest, despite the seriousness of their shared situation.
Galadriel glanced out to sea, watching the waves, for the waves were all they had. “Neither do I,” she admitted quietly, but he heard it all the same.
“I’m glad we met, then,” Halbrand replied, his cheerfulness returned and his smile broad. Galadriel looked at him.
For just a moment, she smiled, too.