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Galadriel’s fingertips grazed the surface of the Mirror.
The Ring-Bearer had passed beyond her sight, but he did not yet have the Ring. So there was still hope. A fool’s hope, perhaps, but hope nonetheless.
She knew she shouldn’t do this, but she also couldn’t not. Once, long ago, he’d been an ally and a friend. More than a friend. She’d cared for—loved—
She had to try.
Galadriel plunged her hand deep into the water.
The water began to bubble and hiss, to steam. A foul stench, metallic like old blood, cloying like the grave, like the rotten sweetness of secrets too long hidden underground, filled her nostrils. Oily black tendrils seemed to coalesce from the depths, writhing as they rose to wrap themselves in strangling twists around her wrist. Insistently, they tugged at her, seeking to pull her down into the dark.
It was to be a contest of wills. Galadriel tugged back upwards, equally insistent…
…and for the moment, at least, he was weak, and she was the mightier. She pulled the mind of the so-called Great Deceiver into one of her illusions.
***
“You won’t win, you know. You may think you have the upper hand now, but that is all about to change. Soon, the Ring will be mine once more.”
Galadriel said nothing. Calmly, she held his gaze.
His irises were copper with a patina of green at their centers. She’d made him beautiful in her sight. He was Halbrand. Before. As he’d been in Eregion, unarmed and wearing soft, simple blue clothing.
He broke eye contact first and spun about, taking in their surroundings. She’d chosen to show him Lothlórien, last forest refuge of the Elves on Middle-earth, on the cusp of the evening. The fragrant air was filled with birdsong. The dappled sunlight filtering through the late autumn leaves overhead glinted mellow and golden.
“Ah, I see. So this is where you’ve been hiding all this time?”
“I’ve not been hiding.”
He snorted, contemptuous, and when he spoke, his tone was mocking and cruel. “Just look at you. How diminished you’ve become, how small!”
“I’ve not been hiding,” Galadriel repeated, unmoved by his attempts at provocation. “I, along with the rest of my people, am to depart Middle-earth forever.” She gestured. “Already, the halls of Lothlórien are all but emptied. I stand here as amongst the last remaining. Soon, I too will pass into the West.”
This news left him visibly unbalanced. Once, long ago, she had seen a strength in him that he himself could not. She had not known its source—or its nature, to her woe!—but that strength she’d perceived had been real. Even now, after uncounted years of innumerable evils, he still seemed to crave her acknowledgement, her recognition, her grudging admission that, yes, he had indeed met and exceeded her every expectation of his power.
Of course she’d always denied him that particular satisfaction.
“B-but you don’t have to go.” He seemed lost, suddenly. Deflated. “My reign will bring peace and healing to Middle-earth. Your people will be safe, I swear it. Did I not bestow upon the Elves the Three? I’ve saved your people from shadow before. Can I not do it again?”
She shook her head. Once, she’d believed him to be the source of the shadow. Now, she knew better. The true shadow was of a mortal world divided against itself, of factionalism, of fear and petty hatreds. In his misguided quest to heal these rifts, however, he’d succeeded only in making everything unimaginably worse: Destruction which would never be undone. Enslavement. Death.
“You cannot.” A note of sadness crept into her voice. “Whether in victory or defeat, it makes no difference. The Eldar are leaving these shores, and I mustn’t tarry. Sauron, this is goodby—”
He cut her off mid-sentence with a slashing motion of his hand, his expression grown stormy. He wasn’t interested in hearing her goodbye. “Where is the Elf who refused to put down her sword? Where is that old anger, white-hot and incandescent?” he demanded, fury rising. Enraged tears started tumbling from his lashes. “Where is my Lady Galadriel, Commander of the Northern Armies? Where is the strength of my future queen?!”
Weeping like this, he looked so disconsolate. She realized he was afraid to be alone and without peer. She stepped in close to him, close enough that their bodies were almost touching. He wore the face of the Man she’d loved. She reached out and brushed one of his tears away with her thumb. “It was never my strength you desired,” she reminded him gently. “It was my light.”
Galadriel remembered what she’d seen in the minds of the Hobbits: their simple, modest lives, shining with the light of fierce love and laughter, of lively song and dance, of hearty food and drink. It would not be strength, hers or anyone else’s, that would vanquish the darkness. If anything, it would be the Hobbits’ light. Yes. She didn’t know, but with the hard-earned wisdom of millennia, she chose to believe.
“Come with me,” Galadriel said.
“W-what?” Whatever he’d expected from her, it wasn’t this.
“Return with me to the Undying Lands and face the Valar’s judgment. Someday, even the longest of punishments must end, and then we will live free together in the Light of the One.”
She tilted her head up and brushed her lips against his. An impulsive act. He gasped, as if she’d knocked the breath out of his body, before pulling her into a desperate embrace. He wound his arms around her and tangled his fingers in her hair. Their kiss deepened, and she felt his need pressing against her belly. She groaned. Pleasure as piercing as an arrow shot through her loins. Halbrand was the best part of him, and how she loved and wanted him inside of her always—
No! She had to remember who and what he was. Be reasonable. Stay in control. If she let him in now, like this, they might—she might never—
Galadriel forced herself away from him, panting. Searing pain tore through her; she clutched at her chest. Her heart—that heat—why oh why did she feel like…
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.” The words were ashes in her mouth. “If you were to agree to surrender and—”
She froze.
The beautiful face was contorted. He looked so hurt and betrayed. She hated that. Then he turned his back on her, and she hated that even more. “I don’t need your pitiful light anymore.” He sounded like he was grinding the words out from behind clenched teeth. “The strength of the One Ring is all I require. Now get out of my head. I’ve a war to win.”
Halbrand’s fair form collapsed in upon itself. Darkness without, as within. What remained was an abomination of nature—
The illusion shattered.
***
After the destruction of the One Ring, it was said that a huge shape of shadow, impenetrable, lightning-crowned, filled all the sky. Enormous, it reared above the world, stretching out with a vast and threatening hand, but then a great wind took it and blew it away. The shadow passed, and a hush fell.
But within the hidden chambers of Galadriel’s heart, by the grace of the Valar, one tiny light, like the last ember of a dying forge, continued to burn.
She never did tell him goodbye. She never needed to.
END