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Nights of battle had ravaged the land, and only the wind could be heard in the empty wasteland that was left behind. The battle for Eregion had almost razed the region down, forcing its inhabitants to flee. Sauron, or as he preferred to call himself, Mairon, knew he needed to leave posthaste, for the Numénorian forces would soon be joining the elvish legions on the battlefield, but there was still some time left until then.
He decided to stay in a village near the border for a few days, intent on not thinking about the hardships to come in the oncoming battles. Nevertheless, he felt triumphant; during his retreat he had taken with him none other than his fiercest enemy, one he had desired from the first time he laid his eyes on her.
The Lady Of Light was finally at his side, not entirely by choice. He had saved her from Adar’s clutches shortly after she’d witnessed the battle in Eregion, and to placate her fears, he had promised her that if she followed him, he wouldn’t harm Elrond and his group on the battlefield.
Now, they were staying at a ruddy accommodation, consisting of just a wide, undecorated room, dimly lit by the glow of a fire kindling in the chimney. Without uttering a word to Mairon, ignoring his attempts to tease her, Galadriel took a long bath, curled up in a wood basin, heedless of the waterdrops oozing on her porcelain-like visage.
Mairon couldn’t help but watch her the entire time, captivated by the beauty and strength she possessed: in the thousands of years he has spent on this earth, she has turned out to be the only one capable of resisting his temptations, fighting against them with all her strength, impossible to bend. The thing was, for the first time ever, Mairon didn’t feel the impulse to control her, unlike the other people he had the misfortune to meet; he wanted her to stay exactly the way she was.
Sure, she probably posed a threat to his plans, but he didn’t care. He didn’t want anyone else as his queen but her, and it didn’t matter to him that she had a stronger character than him, he could handle it.
Galadriel got out of the water just then, dried herself with a towel and put on a plain white tunic, and as she moved the reflection of the chimney fire shimmered in her hair strands. Mairon felt like he was about to lose his mind.
The glimmer in her hair seemed to light up the entire room, as if there was a mirror in place of her locks to reflect sunlight, and it emphasized her figure. His sight blurred, tears brimming in his eyes, and the sensation within him was so strong it reminded him of when he saw the newly created Valinor trees for the first time. He suddenly understood why it was rumored among the elves that the trees’ lost lights remained entangled in her braids, and how Fëanor was inspired by her beauty to create the Silmarils. He remembered his own awe at the sight of the Jewels, how he had desired to hold them in his hands even at the risk of burning them.
“Galadriel, my dear, would you mind sitting next to me if you’re done?”
The elf gave him a pointed look, her posture rigid as if ready to spring into battle. “What do you want, Sauron?”
“Allow me to fix your hair.” Seeing her hesitation, he snorted, beckoning her to sit down next to him. “I won’t try anything, I’m being honest. I promised you on our way here that I wouldn’t lie to you.”
He wanted nothing more but to touch her hair, run his fingers between her curls, roll them up around them.
With a sigh, Galadriel conceded and sat on the bedside, only the nails wringing into the palms of her hands betraying her nervousness. Mairon encircled her waist to pull her closer to his lap.
“Why don’t you call me Halbrand, Galadriel? I‘ve even changed into the human form you like so much.”
Before the elf could thrash just out of spite, he ran his fingers through her silky hair, inhaling deeply their scent. Freshly picked flowers.
He untangled the few knots she had with a gentleness that normally wouldn’t have belonged to him, inspecting each curl just in case he missed some. He styled them in a bun only to let them down immediately after, to indulge himself in the ecstasy possessing him, obsessively caressing every strand to feel even the slightest irregularity, feeling for the residue water of the bath she had enjoyed just now.
“How beautiful you are,” he whispered in her ear, moving her well-kept maidenhair aside to trace his fingertips along the nape of her neck, bewitched by the way her skin reacted to his touch. He would’ve liked to press a kiss on her shoulder, but he knew Galadriel wouldn’t appreciate it.
Suddenly, an idea that would’ve normally horrified him flashed in his mind. He wanted the warm hue of the fire to remain engraved in the immortal’s head, and he would have his wish fulfilled right now.
He forced his brain to recall the ancient melodies he had heard singing at the creation of Eä and that he himself had used even after his betrayal to the Valar, especially during his fight against Finrod. It’s been a long time since he last used his voice to create something breathtaking, but he knew that even now a part of his old self remained buried underneath the surface. So he cleared his throat and started singing an ancestral melody of healing and summoning, allowing his hands to skim lazily from Galadriel’s hairline to the tips of her curls.
The air itself in the room came to life, vibrating to the rhythm of the song before changing into a pleasant breeze around their bed, taking the nightlight with it. Mairon kept on singing with his eyes closed, commanding the sylvan rays to accumulate in his fingers to perfuse them into the elf’s hair, spreading them evenly like a body balm; though initially reticent to this ordeal, intimidated by that immense power, Galadriel couldn’t help but gape at the shimmering of the coloured lights starting to rest against her skin now, adding a celestial glow to her skin.
She was saddened at the thought of a creature as good as Halbrand being corrupted by Morgoth’s filthy promises of power and control over the entire world. He could have remained a Maiar bringer of light, benevolent.
The melody came to an end, bedewing their silhouettes with a faint glow and a pleasant heat, leading them to believe, just for a beat, that they were transported into another world. As the last notes began to wane, the light slowly faded, dragging them back into reality.
Mairon lifted his eyelids and smiled, admiring the result. Galadriel’s hair gave off its own light in the same way the three Silmarils had, visible even from the deepest pits of the earth.
“You’re even more beautiful now, thanks to the energy you radiate. You’re really worth your nickname.”
The effect would last for centuries, if not millennia, a testament of what the Maiar had created despite his corruption.
He tried to give her a kiss on the cheek, but she moved away.
“I don’t want your gifts,” she sneered. “You wasted your powers.” In truth, she had already started to like the changes to her hair, but she’d never dare to say it in front of her enemy.
Mairon let out a small laugh, lifting a hair strand and twirling it between his fingers. “I don’t care, I’ll keep giving you all the gifts I want, even if you don’t want them.”
He repositioned her until their eyes locked, stroking her cheek with the back of his hand.
“My beautiful warrior, my Galadriel. My queen. Why won’t you surrender to me?”
Sauron longed for the total destruction of the creature before him, craved to bleed her dry, to obliterate her will. Mairon, or rather, Halbrand, wanted her by his side to worship her, to have a chance at redemption. He was aware of the fact that she would soon stab him in the back and fight beside her elvish friends, but he couldn’t care less.
He enjoyed every second in her company, branding every curve of her body, every look on the back of his lids.
She has binded him to light for a short time, and when she eventually betrayed him, he wouldn’t resent her, he would keep on running after her without a shred of dignity, hoping for her return. Once he conquered Middle Earth, he would build a palace outside of Mordor so as not to smother her splendor among the volcanic vapors. He would forge her a silver crown, erect a crystal throne, and would allow her to rule over him.
Sauron only felt obsession, thirst for power, but Halbrand bursted with affection, happy not to be alone anymore. Why not allow these two impulses to coexist, even if they did address two different sides of him?
In the end he couldn’t resist any longer and kissed Galadriel’s soft lips, as if to seal his loyalty.
Of course, this moment wasn’t going to last for long, nevertheless it would have to be enough, for now.