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No more flames, no more darkness.
For a brief moment, the sparkling white ring swayed before his eyes. A haunting but harmonious sound reached his ears. The ring sang to him. But the battle raging around him brought him back to reality abruptly, and even though Arrondir and Elrond were now powerless and the Orcs were putting all their forces into battle, he made a good target in case one of the last Elves took it into their heads to notice him.
Taking care on all sides, he quickly buried his precious treasure in his breastplate and drawing his blood-stained sword from its scabbard, threw himself into the fray, encouraging his children with all his guttural voice, though retreating little by little. He wanted to be alone when putting the ring to his finger. The ring was made for Elven and he wasn't one of them... not any more. What would happen, then ? Those Orcs who had in the meantime finally managed to demolish the rampart rushed into the gaping breach, letting out terrible cries in the midst of the immense clamour. The massacre began.
Adar, retreating, soon found himself at the edge of the forest. Only a few Orcs had remained behind. Approaching them quickly, he urged them to join the warriors to take advantage of the victory which seemed close. They then rushed towards the city, grunting loudly.
As soon as they were away, finally alone, he took the ring out of his breastplate, panting, and placed it in his gloved hand. It was magnificent, pure white against black. The sound it made now almost stunned him. It was a call that penetrated the depths of his being. Finally, he was reaching his goal and once on his finger, the power given to him would eventually overcome everything and especially Sauron. He alone could now put an end to all this and once Sauron was finally defeated, demand that he and his children be left in peace in Mordor, their home, from now on.
Without hesitation, he slipped it onto the little finger of his right hand and was already turning towards the battlefield to rush forward and perform the ultimate act, destroy Sauron.
To his great incomprehension, his legs suddenly refused to carry him. Nailed to the spot, his vision blurred, he suddenly heard a shrill sound that twisted in his head then felt an intense heat invade him, turning into an unbearable burn. In spite of himself, he screamed. The noise and the heat stopped abruptly and he fell heavily to his knees, both hands on the ground, his breath cut short. While he tried to breathe again, the unthinkable took shape before his eyes. His right hand, usually grayish and with deformed fingers, began to change, becoming lighter, more regular. The apparent network of black veins turned into a bluish tint, his fingers regained a long and thin shape. At the same time, he felt his whole body and his face transform too and the locks of his jet black hair that hung in front of him as he was still kneeling head down, had regained a forgotten volume. Pain has receeded. The ring started to sing softly on his finger again. A flash of clarity rushed into his mind and he knew who he had become. Slowly, he stood up.
The next few moments seemed like centuries. " Nenya ..." he had been wrong. It was not raw power given to him, but a much more incredible gift, the gift to a fallen Elf that Celebrimbor 's creative power had made possible. The erasure of millennia of suffering, the healing of flesh and soul, the liberation from darkness. He did not have time to fully realize it as suddenly, the tragedy of this situation dawned on him: "My children!" How would his children react to seeing him transformed like this, to seeing just an Elf? Could he stay their father?
Looking towards Eregion in flames, his fists slowly closed. He understood that he could no longer carry out his enterprise alone. In the distance, he perceived a few Orcs returning from the battle. In an instant, he made his decision and took off the ring without really knowing what was going to happen. The reversion process began immediately, painless this time. When the Orcs arrived at his height, Adar, returned to his normal appearance, asked them about the situation. He understood from their words that the end was near.
"My children, I give you a mission: bring me the She-Elf Galadriel. Alive. Quickly. You will find me behind the camp, at the top of the small hill in the forest. I have something important to do. Come on, hurry!"
They ran away.
While thoughts whirled in his mind, he wasted no time and walked quickly, bypassing the camp and climbing this small hill in the forest on which he had come several times to seek a beneficial calm. The day before, he had also come there to bury the seeds in a little hole dug in the humus. Life would go on, according to elven custom. He had pronounced the thousand-year-old words, those that all the torments endured had never been able to erase : "New life, in defiance of death". And he had prayed for his children who would fall in great numbers the next day.
He approached a large, prominent stone, then picked up the ring that had not stopped singing to him and put it back on his finger while stiffening. This time, the pain was almost gone and, fascinated, he contemplated his transformation. Touching his face with his fingers, he realized that all his scars had been erased. His skin was smooth. He knew every scar on his ravaged body, every trace of torture and now everything had disappeared. His thoughts flowed freely, he felt himself flooded with an invisible, warm, benevolent light. All darkness had vanished. Was it possible? His eyes filled with tears, those tears he kept for his dead children carried to the pyres, and, full of gratitude, he fell to his knees, in front of the stone, his hands and head resting on it, as if in prayer.
While he was still in a daze, savoring sensations that had been long forgotten, absorbed in his thoughts, he heard footsteps approaching. The Orcs were coming back towards him.
“She-Elf turned herself in!”
His head on the stone, Adar rejoiced. She was here and now he could convince her to join him in delivering the killing blow.
“Leave us,” he said to his Orcs . “Leave us,” he repeated a little more firmly. For the moment, they were not to see him in his Elf form. Not yet. He heard them walk away and then there was silence.
Galadriel 's voice rose behind him, almost threatening: "I accept your terms, Uruk!" Adar's heart leapt. Uruk. Once again, she'd called him Uruk...
“I have what Sauron seeks. End this slaughter and I will do what you ask. I will help you destroy him!”
She feels proud, brave but also cornered, Adar thought. Alone, she could not fight against Sauron. With him and his children, and the ring that she still believed to be in Elrond 's possession, everything was still possible.
“How do you expect to destroy Sauron without your ring?”. Adar, still prostrate against the stone, slowly slid his hand to the right, revealing his perfect hand... and Nenya on his finger.
He straightened up and turned slowly to Galadriel who had been speechless, "It seems that even wounds that have lasted an age can sometimes be healed."
He now stood before her, revealing all the beauty of the Elf he had been and had become again thanks to the power of the ring. His face, now without scars, was resplendent, his magnificent black hair spread over his shoulders, his gaze filled with kindness rested on her.
Galadriel 's face, which at first had remained closed and angry, suddenly changed into one of deepest astonishment, her eyes opened in stupor and disbelief, then in admiration.
"Adar!"
***
You know the end now, unfortunately.