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They tell her Sauron is gone.
That she is hunting ghosts and shadows. That her thirst for vengeance is corrupting her into the very darkness she sought to destroy.
They are wrong.
All of them.
Sauron. Gorthaur. The Necromancer. The Dark Lord. The servant and heir to Morgoth.
He lives.
He prowls.
He waits.
She is as certain of this as she is of the coming of the dawn and dusk, for it is written upon her skin.
A reddish blemish she was born with, hidden on her right shoulder. It was a curving mark resembling the crown of a trident, a sinister looking thing that had always sent a shiver of unease down her spine whenever she gazed upon it through her mirror.
It was a gift, her mother had said. A sign that out there somewhere, the second half of her soul had been forged into another. Someone whose heart beat in harmony with her own. Her perfect other, a being crafted for her as she was for them. A gift from destiny.
Her soulmate.
A precious blessing so rare it was almost unheard of. Just as this symbol grooved her flesh, so to would it mark her other half. A means of helping them find and recognize one another.
As a child, Artanis had cared little for such things, too enraptured with learning of the beautiful world around her. As a young woman, the mark had served her well, for her mother had refused all who sought her daughters hand upon learning no soulmates marks decorated their skin. A blessing, for there were many who sought her.
It was only as she had grown older that she began to grow restless. All around her, she watched as her kin fell in love and wed. She heard their vows and envied the love within their eyes, the warmth upon their faces, the joy such unions brought them.
She wanted such a thing for herself. Yearned for it more than she ever thought possible.
He's out there, her mother would assure her, when the longing grew painful and her mood became somber. He yearns for you, as you yearn for him. One day, you will find each other. I am certain, my darling.
Centuries had passed and Artanis, now known as Galadriel, had yet to come across another with such a symbol.
Doubt chiseled away at her many a sleepless night. Perhaps it wasn't the sign of a tethered soul as her mother had fantasized about, and was instead nothing more than a strange birthmark? What if all this time she and her mother had been grasping onto a fickle fable, chasing away Galadriel's chances of finding a partner to walk the ages with her?
Those doubts were proven wrong.
Terribly, terribly wrong.
In a way it never should have been.
Galadriel stared down at her brother's corpse. Carved into his flesh by the servants of Sauron was an all too familiar symbol.
It was her mark.
Their mark.
The one that she shared with her soulmate. A secret known only to her mother. Yet here it was, a gruesome horror etched upon her slain brother's flesh.
Galadriel wanted to scream.
She wept for her brother.
She cursed those who had led her brother to this fate.
She swore vengeance on the one who had taken her beloved brother from her. The one who had mutilated the symbol that should have represented something beautiful and pure, and made it into something terrible and cruel.
That night, Galadriel stared at her soulmate mark all through the night, till the candles had melted into oblivion.
Galadriel had endured many hardships in her life, but one thing that had comforted her through it all was her dreams of finding her soulmate and about the life that they would lead.
Within each dream, her soulmate had always been a shapeless stranger she couldn't put a face to, but he had been there nonetheless. A presence that soothed her heart and brought her some semblance of peace and order in a chaotic world.
She had dreamed of the two of them on horseback, galloping through snow-capped mountains valleys and grassy fields. Laughter on their lips. Their hair and clothes windswept. The sun beating down upon them.
Lying side by side in a meadow, their fingers intertwined. Beautiful flowers blooming all around them, yet all they saw was each other.
Taking shelter below a willow tree, his arms encircling her waist from behind, his chin resting on her shoulder. His lips touching her ear, whispering words of endearment that made her heart soar.
Fighting beside each other in battle, cleaving their way though hoards of enemies as they fought for a Middle-Earth free of Morgoth's darkness. Always a united front, he would be an ally who never made her faith waver. Someone who would never look upon her with doubt, who could see her greatness as she saw his.
Their hands fastened by ribbons as they stood in a field of wildflowers before a shimmering lake. His head leaning down as he kissed her softly, her hands resting on his chest. A vow made between them, to never be parted, to love each other even after the stars had vanished from the Heavens.
Beautiful dreams of what Galadriel thought was to come. Dreams she now knew would never be anything but that.
Dreams.
When the first glimmers of golden sunlight bathed upon her skin, something inside her shattered.
Galadriel smashed her mirror with her fists, glass shards slicing into her hands and painting her skin red.
She screamed until her throat was raw, until all her energy was drained, and she collapsed to her knees.
Her brother was gone.
Killed by Sauron.
Sauron who had taken that sacred mark upon her body and crafted it into a symbol of dread.
There was only one way he could know of it. And that was if the same mark branded his physical forms.
Sauron, The Dark Lord, the creature who had killed her brother and aided Morgoth, was her soulmate.