Work Text:
Blood as black as the night closing in bled from his innumerable wounds and seeped into the ground beneath him into the soil and earth. Earth that had been here longer than all the peoples of Middle Earth and would be here long after their passing. His last thought had been of his children and how he had failed them, all of them. His love had not been enough but it was all there had ever been and ever would be. Pain tore his heart in twain and so painful was it, that he did not feel the final killing blow that Glȗg inflicted with his curved blade. Eru’s fire in him dwindled to nothing as he stared up at the blue sky far above the treetops as the breeze caressed his face and the birds sang and chirped despite the destruction around them.
Galadriel sat beneath the trees as the gentle morning sun bathed her face in golden light as the Bruinen river’s waters flowed past her. Blue lavender sage blossoms grew upon the bank, their gentle floral peppery smell scenting the air, reminding her of simpler times long ago. Sauron had won a great victory over them all, wounding Middle Earth in a way that many did not yet realise, festering beneath the surface. She gently rubbed the scar on her chest, still tender and sore though the ache in heart was far worse. They had all suffered great loss, but one had suffered more so, picked and torn apart by the Great Deceiver’s machinations. Tears rolled down her cheek as she replayed his last minutes over in her mind for they had been cruel and barbaric beyond belief and she had just stood there, frozen in fear. They had been on the verge of something that she did not understand, something new, something tenuous and fragile, but she felt its loss.
“Galadriel?”
She was pulled from the awful moment by her dear friend’s gentle voice. Elrond. As ever his face remained boyish and handsome, as familiar to her as her own, but she could see the change within it. His eyes now held a haunted look, pain and loss of battle had left their mark upon him, scars etched upon his soul, his heart battered and bruised.
She held out her hand to him as he sat beside her upon the soft grass.
“For whom do you weep?”
“My tears are for all that died needlessly in Eregion, for all those that are yet to die in the war to come, for Celebrimbor, for…”
“Adar?”
She nodded, brushing her tears away with her hand. He didn’t understand spilling tears for an Uruk, an enemy that had taken many lives, walking the path of darkness for centuries. Elrond in his heart knew that Adar had not been what he had thought.
“What happened? Tell me,” his voice held no judgement, only kindness.
“Nenya, had healed some of his wounds, I don’t mean his physical scars, though it had healed them too,” she looked down at her ring and how it caught the light. “It had bound his heart in light, removed the poison planted there all those millennia ago. He saw and felt with great clarity the way one can only feel without the burden of darkness and shadow. He gave me the ring Elrond, willingly, chose to bear his physical scars once more and remain Uruk. He made a pact with me that we would end Sauron together and then he and his children would leave and live in peace in Mordor.”
“You agreed?”
Galadriel nodded as another tear fell.
“The world is not so black and white as we always believed. Were they not once elves? They deserved a chance at another life, Uruk, a chance to be something else.”
“A haven,” Elrond whispered.
“ Now…”
Elrond’s heart filled with sorrow at what could have been for Sauron had taken more from them than they had realised, now years of war and death lay ahead to an end none could yet see.
“The first race Morgoth and Sauron enslaved were the Uruk, who are we to deny their suffering. In that way Adar had more compassion than any of us.”
“We have to do better Elrond.”
He sighed deeply, resting his head upon hers.
“It is as you said, where there is light there is hope.”
Their fingers remained entwined as neither spoke, both watching the crystal clear waters of the valley’s river rushing past. Galadriel leant her head against Elrond’s shoulder, warm and comforting, solid and steady.
Whilst smoke still rose from the ruins of Eregion, high on the peak under the trees and amidst the gentle mist of rain, Galadriel and Elrond placed the last couple of logs upon a pyre as the sun began to set. She had contemplated burying him in the elven way, but in the end, in his last moments, he had chosen to remain Uruk, though she sensed he had been overwhelmed by the ring’s power. She would never know now.. She could not ask him what he wanted but giving his body to the flames as he had done for his children seemed fitting, the Uruk way. Galadriel knelt beside Adar’s body, ignoring the black blood staining her white gown as it spilled around her legs upon the floor. His eyes were still open and stared blankly up at the sky, once full of pain they now held nothing, just empty, glassy pools. She gently placed her ring covered hand over his eyes and drew his eyes shut holding her hand there for a few minutes, as she closed her own eyes.
“Savo hȋdh nen gurth,” she whispered. (Have peace in death.)
Elrond stood over them, waiting, head bowed and hands clasped. When she was ready, they gently and slowly lifted Adar together from the place that he had fallen and carried him over to the pyre. Neither of them spoke as they performed the task, sorrow weighing heavy upon them. He was placed with his hands upon his chest, his black hair laid out around him as a shroud, his grey face almost blue under the failing light of the evening.
Whilst Elrond went about lighting a torch, Galadriel walked over to the black stained spot Adar had fallen near to the pyre. Kneeling down once more she scraped out a hole with her hands in the dirt and soil before reaching into a pouch on her belt, bringing out a handful of Alfirin seeds.
“New life in defiance of death,” she whispered.
Tears began to fall as she shakily scraped the dirt mingled with Adar’s black blood and her tears over the seeds. Elrond knelt beside her and helped her cover the seeds, patting the soil in place.
“May Yavanna protect them and watch them grow,” he said with a soft smile at his friend.
Galadriel returned his smile and took his hand as he helped her to her feet.
“Are you ready?”
She nodded, taking a deep breath, the scent of pine and smoke in the air. Elrond took the torch from where he had planted it in the ground and went to set it amidst the pyre.
“Wait,” she said. “ I will do it.”
Elrond nodded and passed her the torch, its orange, glowing flames flickering between them. Grasping the wooden torch she held it against the kindling upon the pyre until it lit, moving around the pyre lighting as she went. It did not take long for the wood to catch and the flames to grow, ever hungry, growing in strength and heat, licking at the logs.
“Díheno nin,” she said quietly. (Forgive me)
Wood cracked and hissed as the flames grew more ferocious until Adar’s body was consumed along with them. The rain passed and the clouds parted, r evealing the night’s stars strewn across the inky sky where the smoke drifted up to meet them.
“In flames, return to the light, may the grace of the Valar protect you,” she said in prayer, remembering the words he himself had spoken over fallen Uruk.
Elrond held her hand as he began to sing a lament for the fallen and there amidst the stars and smoke, two friends mourned an elf, an Uruk and a world that could have been.
He could hear the ocean, the soft swell of the waves as they washed upon the shore and the singing of gulls upon the air. His eyes opened as he took a deep breath as sweet smelling air filled his lungs with the scent of flowers and salt. He was bathed in a bright and golden light, warm and comforting upon his skin like the first day of spring. He slowly pushed himself up, surprised to feel no pain, confused and unsure as though he had just woken from a long nap. He felt his chest, looking down at himself, there were no wounds, only his old scars, though his skin looked warmer, no longer pale grey. His black armour was gone, replaced with white robes so soft they felt like a caress. He was wet as though he had washed ashore but he felt no cold. He stood shakily, looking around him, his bare feet sinking into the soft white sands as the clear waters of the sea lapped at the shore.
“Gi nathlam hi,” a feminine voice behind him spoke. (You are welcome here.)
Adar turned to see a tall woman with dark hair streaked with white flowing behind her approaching him upon the sand, dressed in a grey gown the colour of the sea’s mist. There were pearls woven into her hair beneath her grey hood and she was ageless in face but her eyes held the sorrow and tears of all the ages. She was beautiful in a way that hurt his soul to look upon so pure and radiant and full of something he couldn’t name at first. He fell to his knees, averting his gaze as he stared at the sand beneath his feet.
“Ú-chenion,” he whispered. (I don’t understand.)
She was soon before him, holding her hands out to him.
“Stand my child,” her voice was gentle, reminding him of the gentle stream as it trickled down from the mountain side.
She held out her hands and pulled him to his feet. She lifted his head and held his face in her hands, soft and warm, at her touch he began to cry.
“Man ci”? (Who are you?)
“I am the Winter One, the Sighing One.”
Adar began to cry, his tears falling thick and fast and he felt shame and pain within his heart at the darkness he had wrought.
“Goheno min,” he whispered, bowing his head once more. (Forgive me)
“Eru looked into your heart and saw past the shadow and pain and found love and where there is love, there is light.”
“Where am I?”
His heart knew the answer but he needed to hear it.
“You are in the Halls of Mandos, here you may rest for as long as needed.”
He looked around him, marvelling at how blue the sky was, how calm the waves were.
“It is not as I thought it would be.”
Nienna just smiled kindly, the natural sorrow in her face softening to a warmer melancholy . Adar felt a pull in his heart as he looked back over the ocean at the mist and cloud.
“What am I to be here?” he asked quietly. “Who am I to be?”
She heard the wistfulness in his voice and knew the pain in his heart would take an age to heal.
“Whoever you want to be, Adar.”
He smiled faintly at the use of his name, one that he felt that he had lost.
“My children?” he asked, turning to her, the smile gone once more.
She too turned to the sea, her green and hazel eyes as bright as the stars and containing the knowledge of every soul mourned for, every heart lost. .
“We remember the night you awoke in cuiviénen, young and new and full of promise. We wonder what path you might have taken had not Melkor’s poison spread and corrupted. The same can be said for your children.”
“I failed them.”
Nienna smiled and placed her hand softly upon his arm.
“You were the only one to show them pity and love, that is not failure.”
“It was not enough.”
“Was it not?” she smiled, but there was no mockery within. “Come, there is someone who wishes to meet you.”
She took him by the arm and led him up into the grassy dunes bordering the beach, the sound of music and laughter upon the air as she led him to the halls of her husband.
End Of Third Age
High on a peak, on a rocky outcrop amidst the trees and shrubs, far above the crumbling ruins of an Elven city from long ago, a group of hooded figures moved amidst the woods. On the horizon, the sun had begun to sink back into the earth, casting a pink and orange glow upon the land newly healing. Under the rustling branches the group came to a stop before a carved marble figure partially covered with vines, the leaves acting as green raiments. All around the base of the figure grew a carpet of Simbelmynë, the small white flowers looking golden in the dying light of the sun.
“It’s here,” the leader of the group announced with a raspy voice, removing her hood.
Gathering around the statue, the small group dropped to their knees looking up at the tall white figure.
“The White Lady was right.”
“Adar.”
“Adar.”
They all began to murmur with a reverent wander.
“Mam, who is that?” the small orcling asked, looking up with her wide black eyes flecked with amber.
The older orc who had led them there cocked her head, her somewhat wonky ears pointing in opposite directions as she looked up at the figure. Her expression was full of curiosity and something her and her people had not felt for an age, hope.
“He’s the one who saved us.”