Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Smoke rose in the east, darkening the otherwise bright blue sky. Not a cloud dotted it, the sun beating down against the shoreline. It should have been a relaxing scene, waves lapping against the sand and rocks. Fishermen dotting the space, casting out their lines as others out further in the water dragged their nets, bringing back the bounty that lay within.

But blood darkened the shoreline, swirled within the water, darkening it as well as the tide pulled it back out to sea. Screams erupted from every space, the harsh cut of blades rendering flesh from bodies, steel clashing against steel as arrows whizzed by, landing their fatal blows. The ships out in the sea, the ones meant to bring new warriors to help beat back the onslaught were burning. Sailors abandoning their ship in droves, meeting their fate in the water as arrows continued to fly, seeking them out within the churning blue.

Those that made it to the shore met similar fates.

Exhausted already by the struggle to swim to shore, most sliced through before they could leave the water completely.

Halbrand stroked the neck of Morendë, the fell beast that he rode high above in the sky, easing him to swoop down again. To let out another stream of fire against the fleet of ships that Númenor had sent this time. Other riders soared through the sky as well, targeting other ships, putting an end to the invasion he’d learned of in the months prior.

It had taken careful planning, years of preparation to infiltrate the harbor of Vinyalondë. To convince its people that they were no longer beholden to some island across the sea.

Why should they pay fealty to kings who never stepped foot on their shores? Who had done nothing against the scourge of the orc or had only taken their resources as they dealt with plague, famine and drought. Was it not better to swear fealty to one who brought them refuge, who traded with them to replant and bring back their harvests, who’d helped them clean up their shores so they could gain what they needed from the ocean and forest that surrounded them again? Who asked for nothing in return but their loyalty?

They fought against their forefathers even now. Distant cousin against cousin, family lines torn asunder as they sliced through the men who’d come. Some seeking their own fortune, others simply following the orders they had been given. All of them bloodying the land.

Elves from Greenwood were in the trees, supplying the arrows that cut down many, slowed down others. He spied them hidden among the canopies, blending into the greens and browns, swift and thorough with their part in the matter.

Halbrand pulled back on the fell beasts reins, steering him higher and motioning for the other riders to do the same. Now, he sent downward, into the mind of the one he needed.

The horn was blown, ordering the others to head back, to move to higher ground. They scrambled up the shoreline, any windows nearest the water being wrenched shut as Halbrand rose higher still. There were shouts of confusion below as more sailors and soldiers jumped from their ships, as they began to reach the shore now with no one coming to slaughter them.

He could feel their relief, the beginning of hope to curl up within them, and smiled. Ready to obliterate that flicker of light within them all.

His ring shined on his finger, eyes more golden as his body began to echo his ring’s brightness. Halbrand let go of the reins, his thighs tightening around the beast’s body as he focused on the sea below. Water had never been his element, it still wasn’t, but he’d learned a trick or two with it. He pulled on it, drew it back from the shoreline, let it recede enough as his people continued to move away, to seek higher ground while the others scrambled, unsure what was happening.

Halbrand slammed his hands together and the water came back in earnest, racing toward the shoreline, far higher than any wave had managed in all the storms before. The Númenóreans tried to run then, scrambled after his people, clawed their ways toward the rocky coastline as arrows flew at them again, cutting them down if they managed to get high enough.

The wave slammed against the shoreline, knocking them off their feet, pulling them back into its watery depths. Their ships slammed against the rocks, any chance of survival for those still on board lessening significantly. He swooped downward, the other riders following him and helped to pick off the last few survivors.

They would be finding bodies washed up on the shoreline for weeks on end after this but considering the thundering roar of cheers from his people, Halbrand didn’t think they would mind. He smiled as he looked down at them, as he heard them calling his name. Praising him. Everything was going exactly as he’d planned and he could not be happier.

Until he saw one of the bodies on the shoreline.

Not a Númenórean.

No.

Not with that pointed ear, not with that armor he’d seen before when he’d been preparing to attack Lindon.

An elf.

One of Gil-galad’s ilk.

And there was another.

And another.

He looked toward the wrecked ships, mouth pinching tight as he spotted the elven vessel among the others.

So the High King had joined with Númenor.

It didn’t surprise him. Halbrand had considered the possibility. Knew the elf would be looking for allies after losing out on the dwarves, after Oropher had turned his back on Lindon as well, seeking out a friendship with Halbrand’s kingdom instead. Not because of him, no. Because of Galadriel. Which had suited Halbrand just fine.

It had made her happy and he would do what he could to make her happy.

Especially when it benefited his vision for their world.

But this—this would not sit well with her.

Not when she still hoped to somehow bring them all together, when she wished to heal the wounds he’d caused. A foolish notion, a futile one, but Halbrand had been happy enough letting her think that was still possible.

This was a definite sign it was not.

He landed Morendë and dismounted, gave the beast one last stroke before sending him off to feast on the flesh of the fallen. His boots scrunched against the mud with every step, his soldiers moving out of the way as he headed toward the command tent. The gold crown glistened on top of his head as the ring settled against his finger. He could see the elves climbing down from the trees, knew the leaders among them would be heading toward the tent, that they too would have seen who had washed up on those shores.

The generals that he had brought along for this endeavor were already heading toward the tent. Theo, his personal squire, pulled back the tent flap as he neared. Deftly undid the cape along his back as he continued forward before shifting off to the right, folding it neatly onto the chair to be laundered. The boy followed him to the table, setting down a glass of water before ensuring the map was perfectly spread out, pieces still in place.

Halbrand drank slowly as Theo worked at the armor, undoing the pieces as needed, setting them to the side as the others began to file into the tent. The boy was thorough, and would make a good soldier much to his mother’s chagrin. One that he had a vested interest in keeping alive considering his mother’s close relationship with Galadriel.

“They were hardly worth the effort,” Kent started, ruby ring shining on his finger as he took an offered glass. Blood stained his hands, his face and armor. Halbrand doubted that any of it was his.

“Did you see their faces when the wave came?” Ridoc added, clapping the former on the back. The emerald ring on his catching the light as he took his place at the table.

Halbrand barely listened to their joyful prattle as papers were handed to him. Accounting for the dead, for any damage that had been made to the harbor. They would need to mourn those that did die. He’d ensure the families were well compensated for their loss. Determine what would be needed for repairs before they left.

But there were words that he needed to say before the elves arrived. He could feel their approach. Still far enough away that they would not overhear this conversation. But first. He turned toward the boy. “Theo, let the cooks know that I require food.”

“Yes, my lord.” The boy bowed his head and hurried out of the tent.

Halbrand turned his attention back to the others, pleased that they had the wherewithal to shut up, that having the boy leave meant they could truly talk now. Halbrand lifted one of the forms from the map—the one that represented Kent. The man’s gaze fixed on it. His greed, his need for power was an intoxicating scent, one bolstered by the ring on his finger.

“This is your land now, Kent,” Halbrand began, setting the man’s figure down at the harbor’s location. “These people know you, they trust you. I expect you to have them bend the knee and be fully in line quickly.” It shouldn't be difficult. Not with all he'd put in place.

Jealousy wafted from the other man, but he quickly tamped it down as Halbrand looked over at him. Your time will come, Ridoc. Patience. He glanced toward the area Ridoc was hoping to receive, that he would have control of soon enough.

“And those that do not?” Kent asked, drawing Halbrand’s attention back to him.

“Then you deal with them.” There was no softness in his tone now as he looked between the two. No doubt what he meant by that. “Discreetly for now. I want no rebellion.”

“It will be done, Dark Lord,” the man promised, the last part said with a reverence he only allowed when they were alone.

Theo hurried back into the tent, a tray of fresh bread and meats in hand. Set it down on the table beside Halbrand before stepping back, waiting for his next directions. The boy was useful in more ways than one.

There was movement behind them, low words being said before the flap was pulled aside again. It wasn’t the barely audible footsteps that gave away who was entering nor the way his generals stood a little straighter, a little more wary, cautious of their words. It was the way Theo’s gaze flicked toward the entrance, the brief smile on the boy’s mouth as he refilled Halbrand’s glass.

Halbrand motioned for the two to step forward, unsurprised to find Arondir at Ithilbor’s side. He cut them both a look, a slight shake of the head, received a slight nod back from the two of them before he looked toward his generals.

“All that we’ve done will be for naught if we do not strengthen our own fleets,” Halbrand pointed out.

They’d done great damage, it was true. Númenor would be licking its wounds.

But they would have more ships. Ones far greater than any his own ship builders had managed. And if Lindon had joined with them then they would have the ships made in the Grey Havens as well. A place he could not attack.

Not yet.

Not until he had Galadriel’s buy in.

And that would take careful planning.

Something that he might need to draw Oropher into as well.

Perhaps it was time he made his way further south, toward Umbar. Brought in one or two of their leaders with a ring. Three still remained to be doled out. At least one utilized there could be useful.

Truly though, Númenor needed to be dealt with. Either destroyed or drawn into his web. Especially if the Lindon ilk was trying to form alliances with them.

He let the others talk, listened to their ideas as his own plans formed. Let them have their say, even if it mattered little. His generals would do as he wished. The rings on their finger binding them to him, denying them any chance of betraying him, of doing anything he did not want. They left with their orders, leaving him alone with the elves and Theo.

“You saw them,” Ithilbor started and Halbrand nodded. There was little point in denying it. “None of our intelligence mentioned they would be there.”

“Nor did mine,” Halbrand replied, finally sitting down in the chair. He held out his glass and Theo hurried over to refill it again. “King Oropher should be informed. Quickly. In case this is not the only area they have planned an assault on.”

“They would need to pass through the Southlands in order to reach Greenwood.”

“Not if they come from the North.”

“But if they come from the West—”

“If they come from the West they will not make it beyond the Misty Mountains. Not with the dragons protecting those borders.” Dragons. Plural. He’d left them behind. Ensuring the Southlands had its own layer of protection without him present.

Galadriel could take care of herself, but he’d still rather have that assurance in the back of his mind. “Not to mention the dwarves would have alerted us.”

His alliance with King Durin remained, closer than ever. As much as the prince and Disa did not like him, they would not want harm to come to Galadriel or Celebrían either. His mind still shifted though, plucking away at the dwarf king’s thoughts, slipping in to ensure there had been no deceit on his part. But nothing was there. No hidden truths, no secrets that hadn’t been laid bare.

Halbrand had deterred their digging into the depths where the balrog lay in wait for now. Steered them toward other caverns, their alliance more of a use to him. But once that ceased, he would not stand in the way of their own destruction.

“We all knew it was only a matter of time before they began to make their own plans,” Halbrand continued, taking the glass back from Theo. “We knew they would wish to force our hands.”

“Elf against elf,” Arondir murmured, a layer of sadness in his voice as he shook his head.

“It would not be the first time such a thing has happened,” Halbrand pointed out. “Many of those from Lindon either participated in that first Kinslaying or are descendants of those who did, are they not?”

The two elves exchanged a glance with one another. “But not all,” Arondir said, always a voice of reason. One of the many reasons for Galadriel’s appreciation of the elf. It was maddening, but useful.  “Many of them have never stepped foot from these shores.” Such as him and Ithilbor. Born in Beleriand. Such as Oropher and Thranduil and most of the Greenwood elves.

“Then hopefully they do not wish to participate in such an endeavor either.”

More words were exchanged, further ideas given and Halbrand filed them all away. Some he would utilize, some he would not, but all of them were useful in their own way. Allowed him to see how best to manipulate this lot further, to keep the alliance that Galadriel wished to have.

Halbrand picked up the pieces on the map that represented the Númenórean fleet once the others had left. They melted in his hand, becoming nothing but a dark piece of sludge that he fashioned into a circular disc before he stepped out of the tent. Cleanup continued, bodies being tossed onto newly eruct pyres, the broken ships looted of anything that could be useful.

He walked along the hill that led toward the shoreline below, looked out at the waves that dragged bodies in and out of the sea. As though the water wasn’t quite sure what to do with them. One wave shifted differently than the rest, rising up until something close to humanoid formed within it.

Halbrand knew that face.

It was one he had not seen in ages.

One that had left him.

One that seemed to be holding out a hand, beckoning him.

He expected a tantrum, anger over his manipulation of the sea. Something this very Maia had taught him. Not a name of old.

Mairon.

Ossë’s voice echoed in his mind for a brief moment, but then Halbrand slammed the connection close, eyes narrowing as he took in the figure once more before turning away from it.

He did not look back. Did not see the figure sigh before it faded into the water once more.

No, Halbrand called for Theo, instructed the boy to get his horse ready.

His men could continue with the cleanup and repairs. Deal with the bodies and wreckage. It was time for him to get away from the sea.

It was time to go home.

****

As wonderful as the flocks of villagers lining the roadways and the crowds that lined the streets of the Southlands had been as they’d neared the castle, nothing took Halbrand’s breath away like spotting Galadriel and their daughter standing at the top of the stairs. Halbrand had been dutiful, smiling, waving. Playing the part of the good king, doling out all that was expected as he’d driven his horse and the others hard across the landscape.

It was one thing to be knee deep in death, doling out well deserved punishments to those that continued to defy him. Another to be so far from where he wished to be because of distance.

He’d left the horse behind with the others after the first day, secured Morendë and flown the rest of the way. The others would return within the week, but even one more hour parted from Galadriel was an ordeal he would not willingly give himself. The servants quickly moved from the courtyard, giving enough space for Morendë to land.

Halbrand barely acknowledged the beast as he dismounted, leaving the saddle to one of the stable hands. If they approached with caution they might keep all their limbs.

Celebrían bounded down the steps, two at a time, and practically leaped into his arms. He easily caught hold of her, swung her around, his smile echoing her own as she laughed and laughed. “Atto!”

He adjusted the four-year-old to his hip as he continued to ascend the stairs. Galadriel had not moved, her attention currently on Morendë as one of the stable hands approached the creature. His grin only broadened as her mouth pinched, knowing full well that she was instructing his trusty steed to leave the boy working at the straps be and to go munch on a cow afterward.

Her hair seemed to glow under the sunlight that illuminated her, catching the diamonds on the crown he’d painstakingly crafted for her. But it was the way her gaze softened as she finally looked at him that had him doubling his steps. He drew her close, hand moving to the back of her neck as he kissed her. Celebrían squealed as she was gently crushed between them for a moment before wiggling her way out of his grip.

He eased her to the ground, drawing Galadriel even closer then, unwilling to let her go.

We need to meet with the council.

They can wait.

Halbrand.

He nipped her lower lip. The generals could wait. He needed to be inside of her. It had been far too long. Needed to taste her, to fuck her until she was hoarse from crying out his name.

She didn’t push him back, simply let out a low moan before kissing him again. Clearly he wasn’t the only one who’d been left wanting.

But then Galadriel was pushing him back, pulling herself out of his arms. “Don’t you dare, Celebrían!”

Halbrand whipped around as well. Spotted their daughter trying to climb onto Morendë’s back. “But Atto promised we could go riding when he came home!”

He would not look at Galadriel, would not take in her annoyed look as he started back down the stairs. “He meant with your horse,” she said but the four-year-old was shaking her head.

“No, he said we could ride Morendë.”

Halbrand couldn’t avoid Galadriel’s glare as she turned to look back at him, already a step ahead of him. “He’s perfectly safe,” Halbrand started. Galadriel’s eyes only narrowed.

Clearly that hadn’t been the correct answer.

Celebrían attempted to go limp as Galadriel pulled her off the creature, but she simply adjusted her hold on the girl, shifting her to her hip. The ground shook beneath their feet as Celebrían glowered. Her mouth tightening, face reddening. “None of that,” Galadriel chided, gently bopping the child on the nose. “You are too little for flying. We shall discuss it when you are older.”

“How old?” Celebrían whined but the shaking had stopped.

Halbrand beamed, pleased at how quickly she’d managed to gain control of her outburst. Not even a month ago it would have taken him helping for her to do so. “Seven—”

“Ten,” Galadriel cut in, earning another pout from their daughter.

“Ten,” Halbrand agreed, leaning over to kiss the girl’s head. We’ll work on her, he let drift to Celebrían’s head, enjoying her little smile—so much like his own. He would simply not look at Galadriel’s face for a moment as he gestured back toward the steps.

You do not need to indulge her, Galadriel’s voiced echoed in his mind. She loves you regardless.

He knew that, he did, but he could not help but want to give into her whims. To help their child grow into the powers that were slowly unfurling within her. She would have a fell beast of her own one day. It was only natural that she learn how to ride one now.

Did you not learn to ride young?

Riding a horse is not the same as riding Morendë.

Because he is a beast?

Because falling from the sky is infinitely riskier than falling from a horse, Halbrand.

You think I would let her fall?

I think that once we have allowed her to ride with you that there will be no stopping her from attempting to do so by herself when we are not watching her.

Then her attendants will have failed at their jobs. And their lives would be forfeit.

You know as well as I that there is little they can do if she is adamant about something.

Considering the girl could meld with the shadows, Halbrand knew she was not wrong, and yet still he would blame the others if something happened to the child. But he kept that to himself as they entered the palace.

He handed off his riding gloves as Devin stepped over to them, filling him in on the happenings as the trio headed toward the family’s private wing. Galadriel interjected every so often, adding her own thoughts on various matters, as Celebrían sang softly to herself, still nestled against Galadriel’s hip. Halbrand stopped once they were at the door to his and Galadriel’s room.

“Let the Council know we’ll meet in about an hour.”

“Make it two,” Galadriel said. Halbrand arched a brow but nodded, pleased with that outcome.

Devin bowed and hurried off. Celebrían tried to hide her yawn, burying her head against Galadriel’s chest. “How about Atto settles you in for your nap?” Galadriel suggested. For a moment it looked as though the girl would fight that but she nodded instead, reaching over for him.

I’ll be waiting, she murmured in his head, fingers brushing his cheek before she slipped into their room.

“I want five stories,” Celebrían said as Halbrand turned toward her room.

“You may have two.” Short ones.

“And a song.”

In the end she only needed the song before she was softly snoring.

He expected some sort of protest when he entered his bedchambers. For Galadriel to remind him of duty, of the meeting with the council, even if she had been the one who had suggested meeting with them in two hours.

Not to find her gown already discarded on the chair, underdress and garments laid out beside it. She was nowhere to be seen but he heard the running water through the doorway off to the side. Steam slowly billowing out of it. Halbrand divested himself of his own clothes with a flick of his wrist. Hurried steps carried him quickly to the doorway. She was already in the sunken basin, delicate shoulders peeking out of the array of bubbles. Crown still on her head.

“Someone in eager.”

A wicked smile graced his lips, halfway considering leaving her wanting, waiting, until he realized she hadn’t looked at him yet. Her eyes were closed, the bubbles nearest her moving, her chest rising and falling as she let out a slow moan. Any chance of taunting her deflated quickly out of him. Not with her touching herself. Not after how long it had taken for her to feel comfortable doing so in front of him. Another annoying little elvish barrier that he’d stripped from her, one that he was not about to allow to slam back into place.

Shame was not a feeling he’d allow her to have any longer.

Halbrand stepped into the water, enjoying the way her breathing grew heavier, her eyes finally opening, gaze drawing over him. Following the trail of chest hair down to his cock. Erect and more than ready for her.

She’d been so tentative when they had first reunited. Partially because of her own warring emotions regarding him, but the differences in his current form had been fairly pronounced from the one he’d previously taken. Halbrand remembered her cautious touches, her fascination with his beard, with the curves of his ear.

But as much as he looked the part of a mortal he was not one. Not with his strength, with his stamina. Not with the power that reverberated within him, not with the bond that locked her to him forever.

He grasped hold of her chin as she gasped, working herself harder, faster. Nearly on that precipice. Swallowed her cry as he kissed her, hard, demanding. His other hand trailed down her arm, the one that moved to pleasure herself. He laid his hand over hers, helped her press her fingers into her cunt, to rub at that bundle of nerves that had her trying to gasp for air again. He kept up ministrations even as she clenched around their fingers, as her legs shook, pleasure breaking over her in endless waves.

He licked at the tears that slid down her cheeks, continued up the pressure, unwilling to cease the movements. “Too much,” Galadriel whimpered, but he tsked at her.

“You can give me another,” he murmured as he kissed along her jaw. Down her neck, nipped at the curve between there and her shoulder. “I’m sure you’ve managed to pleasure yourself enough in my absence, but it wasn’t quite enough, was it? Your fingers not long enough, my cock not working its way into you, my mouth not on you, ringing it all out of you until your voice is hoarse from crying out my name. From begging me.” For more, to stop, her words nonsensical at times.

“Halbrand.”

She cried so prettily as her head dropped back against the basin. “I want them to hear you welcome me home,” he continued, finally letting up, bringing her hand to his cock. Getting her to help him stroke the length of him over and over. “For our people’s cheeks to redden when we leave this room, unable to look in our direction because their queen was heard by all.”

Galadriel whined, clawing at his back as he drew himself between her folds, not quite pushing into her yet. Making her wait. “So they all know who it is that fills you. Who it is that you’ve chosen as your husband, as the father of your child, as your king.” Not the elves.

No, she was his. His and Celebrían’s.

“Please.”

He pressed his hand to her throat, angled her until she was looking up at him but couldn’t move. “Say it, Galadriel.”

“I am yours,” she breathed out and he finally pressed into her. “Just as you are mine.” There was that bit of defiance in her gaze that he adored with the last of it and he grinned down at her.

“Always, melmenya.”

His kiss was searing, pace harsh, unrelenting, but she was the one pulling him closer. Digging her fingers into his scalp, trying to draw him in deeper as she wrapped her legs around him. It would never be enough. No matter how many times he fucked her, there would never be a time he would not want her. Especially not after those months of desolation when she had been lost to him. Out of reach in all the ways he’d never allow to happen again.

Half an hour later she laid back against him in the basin. Halbrand drew his fingers up and down her arm, not yet ready to let her go. “Tell me what happened,” Galadriel instructed, breaking the comfortable silence.

He didn’t reply right away, huffed as she drew herself away from him in order to look at his face. He arched a brow at the stern look fixed on her features. A moment ago she had been out of breath, satiated, but here she was now. Pulling away, rising from him and the water. Drying herself. He scowled as he followed her, as she swatted away his hands, unwilling to let him distract her.

“The Númenóreans were defeated.”

Galadriel continued to look at him, her brow arching now. “I highly doubt that was the bit you have been trying to hide away in your mind.” She spun on her heel and he followed her back into their chambers.

“Rooting around in my mind while I fucked you.” He wasn’t sure if he should be impressed or annoyed. A bit of both.

“As if you do not do similar.”

When he had need of it. She was dressing and he moved to help her. Tying the threads as needed to help her back into the layers. “For all of your talk of a partnership—”

Oh he would not have her spouting that nonsense. “It appears that Lindon has united with them.”

That stopped her, had Galadriel turning to face him. “One of the ships was full of Lindon soldiers,” Halbrand continued, watching her closely. “We did not know until the end but I’ve informed by Ithilbor to let Oropher know. To ready themselves for a possible attack.”

She shook her head, lips pressing thin for a moment as she seemed to consider his words. “Gil-galad has no need to attack them.”

“Come now, love, you are not that naive in the art of war,” Halbrand said, enjoying her glare. “He has no need to ally with Númenor either and yet here we are.”

“He sees you as a threat,” she snapped.

Because he was one. They both knew that. He might not be actively trying to kill the lot of them but he had wiped out nearly an entire city of theirs. Felt no remorse over doing so. Would happily do so again if it became necessary. Something he knew Galadriel worked to ensure would not. Even if they didn’t listen to her.

But Gil-galad’s lot were no threat to him now, no longer an obstacle to what he wanted, what he had obtained. And if he could manipulate them through their rings as he had been doing these last few years they would cease being anything for him to worry about soon enough. Clearly he needed better spies watching those particular elves though. He hadn’t known about their ties to Númenor.

He’d not done anything overtly nefarious to them through the rings. Simply heightened their desire to leave, to follow that path beyond the sea. To sever that allegiance that Galadriel continued to grapple with.

Oropher’s lot could remain. Surely that would be enough.

“Plans change,” Halbrand replied and she pursed her lips, clearly unhappy. He leaned forward, pressed his own against hers, coaxing. But Galadriel shoved him away. Denying him.

He despised it but eased back his annoyance, sighing as he sat down at the table. A quick flick of his wrist and he was dressed again. “What would you have me do, melmenya? Do you think they will welcome me with open arms if I were go to them?”

She didn’t answer as she worked to braid her hair. Crown temporarily set on the table.

Halbrand looked toward the door that led to their daughter’s room. “Do you think they will accept her once they realize how much of me is in her?”

Galadriel’s hands faltered. “She is their kin as well.”

“She is the spawn of Sauron,” he continued, watching her swallow. “Already capable of toppling cities with her cry.”

“That was an accident. She was a babe. We didn’t know she could do anything.”

Well, Galadriel hadn’t known. He most certainly had. “Luthien could not,” Galadriel added.

Halbrand pressed his nails into his palm at the mention of that name but knew better than to let his feelings about her take precedent. “Do you think that will stop them from fearing her?” He moved to stand behind her, picked up threading her braid. “She has her own people who love and adore her.”

“If I could simply meet with them,” Galadriel started.

How many times would they need to have this conversation?

“They have ignored all of your correspondence, calinya.” Something he hadn’t even needed to orchestrate. He delighted in her sigh, the slight roll of defeat in her shoulders. Halbrand pressed a kiss to the crown of her head before setting her crown back on it. “By all means though, write to them again.” Nothing would change on that front. They deemed her traitor. Perhaps saw her as possessed. Fools, the lot of them.

“Perhaps Mithrandir might be able to assist,” Galadriel continued after a moment and Halbrand’s mouth twisted at the name. He didn’t bother trying to hide his displeasure this time. “He should be arriving soon.”

Halbrand narrowed his eyes as she rose. “It seems I am not the only one withholding information.”

“He sent word yesterday that he was on his way.” Galadriel shrugged before reaching up to right his crown. “I had every intention of letting you know. You were the one who could not wait to get me underneath you.”

He drew her close, nipped at her ear. “I did not hear you complaining.”

Her moan was a chord he wanted to continue to pluck at, but Galadriel pushed at his chest. “Our two hours are up.”

Halbrand released his hold on her, the sound of footsteps heading their way echoed outside the door. “A pity.”

Later, herven. Her voice curled in his head. A promise. One he could not wait to make her keep.

****

Halbrand tucked Galadriel’s arm in his as they left the council room. The meeting had gone as he’d expected. Minimal news about Adar and his orcs, the boundary to the west of them still upheld, no movement from Lindon’s elves near the area. The haven that Elrond was creating progressed, unaware of his own spies that lingered in the tree tops reporting back to him of all that transpired there. While those to the east kept up with Adar’s comings and goings from Mordor.

There were stirrings further north, past Greenwood, toward the land where the nomads roamed, but nothing of note transpiring yet. He doubted it would be long before the one who thought himself in power there would make himself known. Before Númenor would attempt their own invasion again.

He would need to gather the other creatures as best he could. Those tucked away in the dark, waiting for the chance to step out into the shadows. His mirth dissipated quickly as he felt Olórin’s presence. Mouth tightening as he led Galadriel into the room designated only for family matters.

The other Maia sat on the floor with Celebrían, regaling his daughter with one fanciful tale or another. Spider on her shoulder and warg at her side, all three seemingly enthralled. Galadriel squeezed his arm, stopping the retort on his lips that he wanted to unleash.

Leave them be.

He did not want to, but any nasty words he wished to say could wait until Celebrían had gone to bed. Halbrand’s resolve nearly faltered as Olórin looked at him. His look all-knowing, far too familiar for all the ages of distance that laid between them. It didn’t help that Galadriel pulled away from him to join their daughter on the floor.

Halbrand did not, no matter the pleading look Celebrían directed his way. He turned from the lot of them, busied himself at the cart of liquor off to the side. Poured himself a tall glass full, barely managed to down even half of it before tiny fingers slipped into his other hand, tugging at him. Demanding attention.

She has missed you, Galadriel reminded him, though it was not needed. He’d already set his drink down and bent to scoop the girl up onto his hip. A flick of his finger sent a chair skidding over to where the others sat. He sunk down onto it, allowing Celebrían to shift in his lap, to make room for her spider while the warg moved to rest his head against Galadriel’s lap.

Halbrand focused on that, not the satisfaction he knew would be on Olórin’s face. Watched his wife gently pet the creature she’d been so adamant their daughter would not have, that she would not allow within these walls. The very one that liked to hurry after her whenever Celebrían slept, that he’d seen Galadriel drop pieces of meat to on occasion.

Was this not proof enough that all he had done was worth it? That he had chosen the correct path? That his methods were necessary? His people prospered, alliances had been formed—perhaps because of Galadriel’s sway and motivation—but he’d allowed them. He’d acquiesced to her desires while ensuring his own continued to flourish.

Middle Earth would become all he knew it should be. Those visions he’d had of it would come to fruition. Perfection in living form.

He rested his head atop Celebrían’s as Olórin finished the story with an annoying little flourish, earning an applause from his wife and child, while all he did was roll his eyes. He despised how that only seemed to amuse the other Maia further.

But Galadriel was rising and scooping Celebrían from his arms before he could protest. “Say goodnight to Atto and Aratto Mithrandir.”

Halbrand pushed down the urge to contradict the uncle moniker for the other Maia as Celebrían reached for him, pressing a sloppy kiss to his cheek. He kissed her forehead before clicking his fingers, drink reappearing in his hand as the little girl said goodnight to Olórin as well.

Behave, Galadriel sent to him as she headed out of the room, their daughter’s pets following her.

He bristled at that, eyes narrowing as he looked over at Olórin once the door had shut. The other Maia was no longer looking at him though, had headed over to the window. Hands clasped behind his back, all the mirth that had been in him moments ago seemingly depleted.

Halbrand sipped his drink, refused to comment on it, to engage in whatever lecture was about to be bestowed on him. Was that not what happened time and again when they were alone in this room? All pretense of civility dropping once Celebrían departed. Barely scraping back into place those first few times Galadriel would step back into the room, but any chance of that had dissipated several meetings ago.

“Have they come to you?”

That question gave him pause.

“They who?” Halbrand asked, annoyed that he’d fallen into Olórin’s trap so easily as the other Maia turned. He expected smugness, not the worry that was etched in Olórin’s features.

“Another of us?”

Halbrand kept his expression neutral, calm. Pushed any thought of Ossë down deep, would not entertain that at all. Would not let Olórin know he’d seen him. “You are aware they do not bother with me.”

“That is not true, Mairon—”

Flames sparked to life along the logs that rested in the fireplace as Halbrand rose, the ones on the candles around the room growing in length. “Do not call me that.”

Mairon was no more. Had not been so in countless ages.

He had been weak.

He was not that Maia anymore.

He never would be again.

“They sent me, did they not? Eönwë came for you.”

Halbrand’s laugh was bitter as all the candles died out, only the fire in the fireplace remaining as any source of light. He preferred the shadows that blanketed the room now, draping the two of them in darkness. Stalked back to the liquor cart as Olórin sighed.

“Get to the point, brother.” Mocking, cruelly twisting the word that Galadriel had taught their daughter for his relation to Olórin. Even when she knew their relationships were nothing of the sort.

“We are to return to Valinor.”

That only had Halbrand laughing again, a bitter sound that echoed off the walls. “Oh, yes, I’ll be sure to pack my bags and hop on over.” He swished the liquid around his glass as the door opened. Did not turn, even though he knew it was Galadriel joining them again.

“I see the dramatics have started,” she sighed, and he snapped his fingers, allowing the candles to illuminate again. “If we could keep from rattling the walls this time, please. I’d rather her not wake up again.”

Halbrand wished she’d come to his side, worked to soothe his temper, but he heard her sit down on the chair he’d vacated. At least she hadn’t gone to Olórin’s side. He downed his drink and then made another, letting the silence stretch between them, before finally heading over to her, handing her the drink.

“Tell me what’s happening, Mithrandir. Halbrand will sit and listen.” She looked up at him as she took the drink from him, stern, commanding in her own way. He bowed his head, a sign of him acquiescing, at least temporarily.

Mithrandir bowed his head to Galadriel, sat down in the seat opposite her. “The Valar have requested our return home.”

“As if I am beholden—”

But Galadriel was holding up a hand, giving him a look meant to silence him. At least for a moment. Patience, melmenya.

Her voice momentarily soothed Halbrand. He took the glass from her and sipped at his liquor, motioning for Olórin to continue.

“Why are they requesting such a thing?” Galadriel continued and Halbrand watched Olorin’s face, looked for any trace of deceit.

“I do not know for certain, my lady. Only that Eönwë was most insistent when he came to me.” Olórin then looked to him. “Directed me to come here as well in case Mairon ignored his own summons.”

The glass nearly shattered in Halbrand’s hand. Rage billowed up in him, desperate to be released. But Galadriel had laid her hand on his arm, tempering his fury as she turned to look up at him. Halbrand hated the concern that he saw there, but it was worry etched into her eyes that bothered him most. He wanted to soothe that away.

Who came to you?

Ossë, but I did not speak to him.

Halbrand.

Whatever else she might have said died on her lips as a scream ripped through the night. Galadriel was out of her seat before she could take a breath, hurrying out of the room. Halbrand on her heels, Olórin following after.

He’d heard Celebrían scream before—she’d been quite adept at doing so before she’d been able to speak words out loud—but it had never been with this sense of terror that had come out of her mouth now. His heartbeat sped up, ready to obliterate whoever dared to harm the child.

Tyelpë was growling, ready to attack but Halbrand sensed no one else in the room. Saw no one. The doors were closed, no trace of anyone having been in the room and having left. He shifted his gaze to the Unseen, looking for traces there as well, but there was nothing.

Galadriel got to their daughter first. Had the child in her lap by the time Halbrand sat down on the bed next to her. Celebrían was drenched in sweat, her hair sticking to her face as she sobbed, clinging tightly to her mother. She hiccupped, unable to form even a word. Shaking. Shivering.

Halbrand brushed his hand through her curls and leaned forward, eased his way gently into her mind. There was nothing of merit at first as he sorted through her dreams. They were usually a rather benign affair, nothing to note. But they shifted after a moment and she whimpered as he pressed a little further.

“No, Atto, no.”

He pressed his lips to her head, ran a soothing hand down her back. “I am only trying to help, little light.”

She whimpered again, clinging tighter to Galadriel but he felt that slight nod, her muffled ‘okay’.

A desolate wasteland loomed in front of him. One that he could not recall and yet there was a familiarity to it. Something ancient, that pricked at his own mind, wanting entrance.

It was the door that jutted out of the vast expanse of sand that Halbrand focused on.

The doorway was cracked in half.

Large chains lay broken in front of it. Dead Ainur were scattered around in front of it as well.

It was the laugh that echoed in his ears that had Halbrand snapping out of Celebrían’s mind and lurching away from her.

“Halbrand?” Galadriel’s eyes grew wider with worry as she reached for him even as she cradled Celebrían against her.

He blinked. Frozen in place for a moment as the reality of what he had seen sunk in. Almost couldn’t look at her, the words trapped in his throat, refusing to be spoken before she said his name again.

“He has left the Void.”

Chapter Text

Galadriel had barely paid attention to the other two once they began speaking of Morgoth. She’d reached for Halbrand when he’d turned pale, unable to hide the terror in his gaze as quickly as he’d wanted to. There were words that needed to be said, discussions that needed to be had, but her focus had quickly turned back to their daughter.

Celebrian had been trembling, her little mind comprehending little of what was being said, but Galadriel knew her daughter had seen the fear in Halbrand’s gaze. Knew that the little girl seeing her father afraid of anything had only added to the child’s overall fear. She worshiped him in the way Galadriel recalled doing her own father when she was a child, the way she’d done the same to Finrod. Following him around with such awe in her gaze, taking everything he said to her to heart, thinking there was nothing in the world that could hurt him.

The first time she’d seen either of them exhibit fear had been a shock, something she’d needed to grapple with for a while to fully understand it. And she’d been far older than her daughter was now.

She scooped the girl up as she stood and walked out of the room. She would not let the conversations continue there, would not sully her daughter’s room further with talk of nightmares, both real and in her head. The other two had followed as she strode into the room she shared with her husband, their conversation halting for the moment.

Dreams were funny things.

Especially for her family.

They were rarely ever something to be taken lightly. Especially when they could be recalled once awake. Foresight, some called it. A curse, Galadriel often thought. One that weighed heavy on her bloodline. Finrod had always been the one most gifted with it but even he hadn’t begun to deal with them until he was well over forty. Her own hadn’t begun to plague her sleep until she was nearing eighty.

Celebrian was only four.

Four was far too little to need to worry about what might come to her as she slept.

Four was far too little to need to handle the chaos her little mind could create when her emotions got too big.

Galadriel laid the girl down on the bed and curled up beside her. Eased her way into Celebrian’s mind as her daughter closed her eyes. Whispered words of comfort as she stroked the little girl’s hair, all the while working to help fortify her mind. Building up barriers that she should have done long before, that she hadn’t thought necessary. Not yet.

She felt the mattress dip beside her, Halbrand’s mind brushing against her own as he aided. Mithrandir’s moments after, helping the little girl sink into a dreamless, restful sleep. Mithrandir was the first to pull out. And then Halbrand. Galadriel felt his lips brush against her cheek, sensed him moving away, but she remained, ensuring Celebrian was alright, uncertain how much time passed when she finally did move away from her daughter.

Galadriel kept the link open between the two of them. They had been working diligently with her to not always tug on it, to not root around their minds as she pleased, but now it was all Galadriel wished for.

She let out a long breath as she headed over to the table, took the glass of liquor that Halbrand handed to her before she sunk down onto the seat. The fire crackled in the fireplace, giving everything an eerie glow. It seemed fitting for the conversation she knew they were about to have, that they needed to have.

“She would not know that door,” Galadriel murmured, setting the glass down on the table without taking a sip. “She could not have glimpsed it from my mind nor yours. Neither of us have seen it. I have never been to that part of the world and you…” She glanced over at her husband.

Halbrand shook his head. “No.”

Nor had Mithrandir.

No one who lived now in Middle Earth had.

“I cannot think of the last time I even thought of those who laid dead in front of the door,” Halbrand added. It was so matter of fact. No emotion. No devastation. Not that she expected that from him. Not for them.

Galadriel noticed the way Mithrandir had winced though. “Why would they not lead with his escape in calling on you both?”

She hated how Halbrand snorted. “Is it not obvious, melmenya?” His smile was cruel, but she saw the flicker of hurt in his eyes before even those shined with cruelty. “They hoped to pluck me off the board.”

Mithrandir shook his head. “You think too badly of them—”

Galadriel rubbed at her temples as Halbrand scoffed. “They made no mention of my bringing my wife and child with me when I left, did they? Eönwë did not even speak of them at all.” Mithrandir remained silent. “As I said, they thought it best to pluck me off the board so that he could not utilize me.”

Her gaze snapped to his then. Only then did Halbrand’s own soften. “I am not a fool, Galadriel,” Halbrand continued. “I have no interest in joining him again.”

You would have if he succeeded sooner. Her throat had refused to let her say the words but she couldn’t stop her mind from spilling them into his.

Hurt flashed in his gaze, pride seemed to swell up as well, that ever present need to lash out ready to be unleashed, but she reached over and took hold of his hand. I will not lose you, she continued, and the rest of the anger that she could feel swirling within him dissipated. I will not let Celebrian lose you.

No one would ever quite understand her decision, why she had not turned on her heel once she’d been able and fled again. Taken herself and the babe that grew inside her back to that piece of forest she’d found and hidden herself away there. It had partially been because of the devastation she knew he’d unleash upon the world again. That he’d have ripped Middle Earth apart in order to find the two of them and she had not wanted more bloodshed, more destruction.

But Galadriel had recalled the teachings of her grandmothers, of her mother, her aunts when she’d been in that glade with Celebrian growing inside her. When she had not been able to feel her bond with the Maia who sat across from her. When she’d thought him gone and yet knew he could not be. The conflicted joy she’d felt when he’d pulled her from that river. When their bond had snapped back into place, stronger than before.

Even more so once Celebrian had taken her first breath.

Love did not conquer all, she knew that. Nor was it enough to get her to stay considering all he’d orchestrated, all he’d done.

But forgiveness could happen even if one did not forget.

Humans often spoke of fate or destiny but truly it was about choice. About hope, about light.

Because the only way to truly root out the darkness was light.

And if he could love her, if he could love their daughter then he was not completely lost to the darkness. She could not bring back the elves that had been killed, could not bring back her brother or her cousin, or so many others. But she could bring back the light that had nearly died out within him.

She could ensure the kingdom was run fairly, that those within it prospered and were given chances they’d not had before. That they built alliances that benefited both parties. That his experiments were truly halted and a million other matters that she’d made sure she had a voice in this time around.

It was far from perfect.

There was still so much that needed to be done.

“You need to meet with Adar,” Galadriel said, interrupting the conversation the other two had continued.

Halbrand pulled away from her, rose from his seat but she followed, not at all caring about the force of his anger in that moment. “He is the reason I lost the time I did with you.”

“You are the reason you lost all those months from us.” Her voice was soft but harsh, gaze flicking to Celebrian and back to him when he seemed ready to raise his. “We are going to need to allies in this fight we both know is coming to these shores. A united Middle Earth has more chance against him then one divided, that is at war with one another, ripe for him to sow the seeds of discord and have us turning on one another as he did before.”

“I will not—”

“You will.” She would broker no other option. “You will go to him and treat with him. Ensure he will stand with us, that he will not come for our child, and let him know we will not come for his either.”

“Galadriel.”

“You will hear me in this.” It was a struggle to not raise her voice. “They can have Mordor if he wants. That can be the land of the orcs.”

“Ah yes, a desolate wasteland where nothing grows.” Halbrand snorted, his mouth twisting. “I am sure he’ll readily agree and stop pillaging the villages that border it.”

“Make a trade agreement with him. I am sure there is ore in those mountains that we can utilize in exchange for crops and other items they might need.” Something that they could use to enact peace.

Halbrand shook his head. “He wants you dead. Her dead.”

“No, he wants you to suffer, but if he is truly the father he claims to be for his children, then he will care more about their survival and happiness then his quest for vengeance.” As will you.

Any retort seemed to die on his lips at that. He sunk back down into the chair and Galadriel followed, finally picking up the glass and taking a sip. Mithrandir said nothing, but she noted the small tug of his lips. As did Halbrand considering the way he scowled.

“You will do that. I will meet with the elves.”

Halbrand rose again, his voice bordering on thundering. “You will not.”

Celebrian stirred on the bed and Galadriel moved, hurrying over to the little girl. She felt her husband follow her, a small tug of regret as their daughter whimpered. “All is well,” Galadriel assured, fingers threading through silver strands as she coaxed the girl to close her eyes again, to return to her slumber.

Halbrand sat down on the other side, rubbing at the child’s back. Humming to her softly before he began to sing. It was a soft melody, a song reciting various tales of what Galadriel had accomplished before she’d ever met him, pieces of Celebrian’s favorite bedtime stories. She felt their daughter’s breathing even out, the soft rise and fall of her chest before she was sleeping again.

Galadriel did not move from her, reached over to catch her husband’s hand as he made to rise. Better to have this conversation here where he’d need to hold his temper, where Celebrian was a constant reminder of what would happen if he did not. His lips thinned, eyes narrowed but he did not shake off her touch.

“The only way he was beat before was by all of the free people of Middle Earth coming together,” she reminded. By the Valar finally leaving their shores to help as well. “We cannot afford a divide now, Halbrand.”

Galadriel was no fool. She knew he’d wished to continue to stoke that division. That he was hoping that Gil-galad and the others would leave these shores, return to that place across the sea and no longer be an issue. She knew there was more to the rings that had been doled out to the men in their kingdom, to the dwarves. That there was a connection between the one on her finger and the one on his, no doubt to the ones that she’d sent to Lindon and the Grey Havens.

To the ones that had laid scattered among the dead of Eregion.

Had the others taken them when they buried those they could?

She’d not asked what happened to them, her mind occupied with a million other matters.

“They will not even answer your missives,” he reminded, and she knew that to be true.

So it would not be her that sent word for a need to meet. “But they will Oropher’s. And I will accompany him. Or Thranduil. We shall see who he wishes to send.”

“And what is to stop them from running you through on sight—”

“They will not.”

“You do not know that.”

“Melmenya.” Galadriel reached for his cheek. It was what he would do to another. “You forget, Gil-galad is my nephew. Círdan is family as well. Elrond, one of my dearest friends.” They would not physically harm her. She had to believe that.

His hand clasped tightly against hers. “They will try to keep you.”

“Nothing will keep me from returning to you.” She looked over at the other Maia who remained seated at the table. “And Mithrandir will come with me, will you not?”

He canted his head in agreement with her. “I am forever at your disposal, my lady.”

Galadriel nodded her thanks before turning back to look at Halbrand. He still did not look convinced. “They will trust him, even if they will not trust me.”

“Then let him go.” His voice may have been soft but he was seething. “Him and Oropher.”

“You know that will not be enough. They need to see that I make the choices that I do, freely, without manipulation. Without deceit.” They needed to see that she was still her. That the child laying in between them was not the monster she knew some of them must have conjured in their minds. “They need to meet her.”

He pulled away from her then, rose from the bed, practically shaking with fury. Galadriel followed him, pleased that he at least kept quiet, that he tempered himself in order to not wake Celebrian. Halbrand caught her wrist when she tried to touch him again, his grip painful. Galadriel held up her other hand. She did not need to look over to know the other Maia had risen as well.

“Leave us, Mithrandir.”

“Galadriel—”

“Now.” She did look over at him then. Nodded toward the door.

He stared at her for a moment before nodding and heading out of the room. No doubt he would remain nearby. She looked back at her husband, stepped closer to him even as he tightened his grip on her wrist. His eyes were dark, the shadows in the room creeping up on them as if they were ready to devour.

“You think I will let you go and take her—”

“You do not let me do anything,” she hissed, easily slipping out the dagger from her hair. She managed to get it to his throat, something she knew he’d allowed considering how fast he could be. “She must be with one of us and it cannot be you. We both know we cannot risk her being near Adar until we have his loyalty, until he realizes there is a bigger priority than the vengeance he wishes to have out with you. If my plan was to leave with her and rejoin them, do you not think I would have done so when you were fighting the Númenóreans?”

She nearly lowered the dagger but he caught her hand, kept it pressed there. The rage he’d been feeling was peeling away at the edges, revealing the fear that he was desperately working to hide. Fear of Morgoth’s return, fear of losing them. She could practically taste its bitterness from their bond, no matter how he tried to dampen it.

“We do not need them,” he bit out, shifting his neck just enough for the dagger to draw blood.

“I know you wish that were true.”

“All those who were loyal to him are now with me.”

“And how long do you think it will be before he entices them back to his side? Before his threats and terror are enough to draw them over?”

She could see the war in his eyes, the desperation there as everything he’d perfectly planned and executed began to crack. That flicker of wonder if he should do the same, if it would be better to head back to his former master.

“Do you think he would not utilize us against you?” Galadriel glanced back over at their sleeping child. “That he would not want to use the power she possesses.” Or worse. She remembered Luthien’s stories all too well. “Do not go where we cannot follow, herven.”

Halbrand released his grip on her wrists and for a moment Galadriel thought he might pull away completely. That he would try to persuade her, to make her see the benefit of joining with Morgoth—something she would not do. But then his arms wrapped around her, crushing her against him. It wasn’t painful, only the desperate grip of her husband as he allowed her to see a sliver of the fear she knew encompassed him.

“You will take Morendë with you. Her warg as well, others will follow in case they are needed. You will have guards, that I handpick. Ones that you will not shirk off, that will remain with you always, watching, ready to protect you both when necessary.” No doubt one of those with a ring.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes narrowed as he looked down at her, demanding and yet somehow pleading at the same time. Galadriel dropped the dagger that she’d been holding, let it clatter to the floor as she brushed her fingers along his cheek. “As you wish.”

“I will have more stipulations.” His lips brushed against her forehead.

Galadriel could only nod. “As will I.”

****

While there was some resemblance of fear among the Council after Halbrand had revealed Morgoth’s escape, Galadriel knew it paled in comparison to what would happen once the elves learned. Morgoth was simply a tale to these Men that sat around the table. A story passed down through the ages, something that had been tied around their necks, a burden they hadn’t been able to shake until Sauron had returned and utilized that burden for himself.

She could not discount that they had prospered since then. That their lives were infinitely better than they had been even one hundred years ago. That the faults of their forefathers did not mean they would make the same decisions. What chance was there for any of them if she did not think they could all do better this time around?

The guild leaders had left, instructions already doled out to them, as had the generals of the army, their orders given. All that remained was Halbrand, Mithrandir, herself and the ring bearers. She watched each of these men—two she had seen him choose. Good men. Ones who had been striving to protect their swaths of land, to help their people survive the harsh conditions nearest to Mordor’s borders. But the others she did not know well. They rarely came to court, settled into their parts of the kingdom.

Galadriel knew Halbrand communicated with them regularly but aside from seeing them once or twice at a few ceremonies, she’d never gotten time to truly interact with them.

She wasn’t all that sure she liked at least two of them.

There was something unsettling about them. Something she could not quite put her finger on as she watched them interact with the others. A quick glance at Mithrandir affirmed her thinking, had him canting his head in acknowledgement as he looked at the two and then back at her.

The map of Middle Earth was spread out along the table. The Southlands and nearby areas carved out among those that stood in this room. Her gaze flickered to where Eregion had once stood. To where she knew Elrond’s new city was located. But it was the way one of them men looked toward space that had been Eregion that had her narrowing her eyes before she looked toward Halbrand.

He was not watching any of them, busy working on the missive that was to be delivered to King Durin. But she knew he was listening to the conversations, that he was not saying anything against the man who was speaking of the land there. As if it was to be his. As if that was a done deal, something that had been discussed before.

The ring bearer had leaned over the map, was tapping the area as he talked to another and Galadriel moved, dagger unsheathed from her hip and stabbing into the man’s hand. The man screamed, the others hollered, unsure how to react. Hands on the hilts of their swords, but not a one of them drew them forth. Their gazes flickering between the dagger in the man’s hand and Halbrand. Waiting for instructions.

He let out a sigh as he drew himself to full height, letter forgotten on the table as he reached over and pulled out the dagger before holding it out to her to take. “Get yourself to a healer,” he bit out, gaze flicking to the man clutching his hand to his chest. “The rest of you attend to the tasks you were given.”

Galadriel took the cloth Mithrandir held out to her and wiped the blood from the dagger before sliding back into its sheath while the others left the room. Even Mithrandir left, leaving her alone with Halbrand..

She watched him wiggle his fingers and the blood that had begun to stain the map disappear. “Why does he think he has any right to Eregion?”

To her realm. To the place where her people died. To the site of her greatest shame.

His gaze flicked to hers again. “Would you prefer Gil-galad and the likes to reclaim it for themselves?”

“Per our customs they will not build there.” Not for years upon years.

“All the more reason we should—”

“You will not touch it. You will not allow any of them to touch it either. It is a graveyard. It shall remain as one until I have decided to reclaim its lands. Until I am ready to erect it again stone by stone as a memorial to those I loved.” And could not protect. Who had died because of him. Because of her. To keep her safe.

She should not have let him touch her then. Should have pulled away when he cradled her face in his hands. Slapped him when he kissed at her tears, when he pulled her into his arms and ran his fingers through her hair. She should not find his touch soothing, should not seek comfort in this Maia who had destroyed them all.

And yet she did, arms wrapped tightly around him even as she soaked the front of his tunic with her tears. She had not forgiven him for Eregion, not yet. Would not for decades to come. And even once she did, Galadriel knew she would not forget.

Thondir.

Mirdania.

Nellriel.

So many others who’s faces she made sure she recalled, that she had etched in her memory.

Celebrimbor.

Sweet, gentle, loving Celebrimbor.

She would erect a statue for him.

The greatest elven smith. Her cousin. Her friend.

Galadriel pushed Halbrand away, removed herself from his grip. She felt the flash of hurt that pierced through him. The way he seemed to be curling in on himself, the darkness that was always at the edge threatening to take over. It was ridiculous how she needed to offer comfort in this moment, could not find the strength within to do so.

“You have letters to write.” She nodded toward the parchment on the table and started toward the door.

“Galadriel,” he started, a desperation in his voice that had her closing her eyes even if she didn’t stop moving.

“I will find you later.”

There was nothing else to say. Not when she knew he felt no remorse for what he’d done.

****

The cool breeze tickled her hair as she leaned against the balcony that overlooked the small courtyard. Celebrian was below, playing with some of the other children of the court. Hiding behind statues, bursting into giggles as she was found before running after another. Watching her daughter eased the pain in her chest, but it taunted it as well.

Reminded her of those early images she’d had after she had first conceived her. The ones when she’d seen her playing in the streets of Ost-in-Edhil, laughing with the elven children there. Annatar picking her up and spinning her around in the forge. Celebrimbor showing her how to use one tool or another. None of those a possibility now.

There was a forge nearby. One far greater even than the one that the dwarves had helped build in Eregion and while Halbrand could often be found within it was not the same. There were no elven songs sung as they worked, no faces that she’d known for hundreds of years.

“You could always teach them the melodies,” Mithrandir pointed out as he joined her on the balcony.

“You Maia truly need to learn not to glimpse thoughts not meant for you, no matter how loudly we might think them,” she chided, but there was a current of amusement in her voice. “I know now is not the time to be harsh to him—”

“—I would say now is precisely the time for that,” the Maia interrupted and she finally looked over at him. He was not looking at her, but down at where Celebrian played. “You’ve never been one to coddle him, Galadriel. Do not begin to do so now. He needs to realize precisely all he will lose if he decides to make any foolish decisions in regard to the one he followed.”

“I know.” And she did. She would not hold back her opinions simply because her husband was afraid. Would not curtail herself. Neither of them wanted that, though she knew Halbrand wished she saw his vision the way he did. She did not. Would continue to work as she thought she needed to bring balance, to shift him away from his all-or-nothing approach.

He had not been wrong when he’d told her the fate of the elves was in her hands.

She was not at fault for any of his actions in Eregion or elsewhere, but Galadriel did know she had sway with him. That she could forge alliances he would be forced to hold to, that he had been taking her opinion into account these last few years. There were no more experiments, he did not antagonize her kin, did not encroach upon their lands.

Of course she knew he was watching them. About the dragons along the borders and other creatures keeping an eye on things. But Mithrandir kept her up to date on everything that happened outside of the Southlands and she knew he would not lie to her.

“I cannot help but worry that he wonders if it would be…not easier, perhaps safer to rejoin with him? That doing so will grant mine and her safety. Even though we all know it would not.” She did not doubt for a moment that Morgoth would use them against him.

“I think the idea has floated through his mind a time or two but he also knows the price of that.” Mithrandir touched her shoulder. “Your ideas of alliances with the others have merit. Getting him to speak to Adar, you with the other elves, with the dwarves, with the Men here. All will go a long way if the people of this land are united against him. It worked before, did it not?”

Yes, but that had not been enough. They both knew that. The Valar had been needed as well. Only now what was there to offer them in return for their help? Though should they even need to do so? Should the Valar not wish to help with the Vala they’d allowed to escape? That they should have dealt with so many times before.

Galadriel blinked at her own thoughts, tried to push them down deep. Uncertain if she was ashamed of them or not. She never would have thought that way back in Valinor. Nor in Doriath. But so much had happened. So much pain and hurt  and death. And they had stayed away and now he was out again, ready to destroy the world and they still remained in Valinor.

“I do not know why they are not here either,” Mithrandir started and she looked over then. Watched him press his hands against the balcony walls. “I do not know if that will change or not, but it is a matter to consider after you have done all you can here.”

She sighed but quickly covered it, waving to Celebrian as she spied the two of them and vigorously waved her little hands. “He will not want to work with them. He does not even like working with you.”

“And yet he does, because you insist.”

He was right about that. As much as her husband griped about Mithrandir’s presence in their kingdom he never did kick him out, never stopped him from speaking to Celebrian. Nor did he say anything when Galadriel went to Mithrandir for help with her own ring’s abilities. He didn’t like it, she knew that, but he didn’t try to stop it.

“How long do you think it will take you to get to Oropher?” she asked, needing the subject changed. “I would like to leave here within the week.”

“I will take my leave after I say goodbye to her.” He nodded toward Celebrian. “I should be there and back within a day or two. Depending on how long it will take me to speak sense into our Greenwood king.”

“Do you need one of the…beasts?” She wrinkled her nose.

He huffed a laugh. “No.” A glance toward the sky and she saw the large bird that circled above, that she had not seen before.

One of the great eagles, making its way to land in the courtyard below. She reached over, squeezed his hand. “Namárië, my friend.”

“Namárië.” He squeezed back and then released it before leaping over the balcony and landing perfectly on the ground to the delight of the children below.

Galadriel glanced over her shoulder, offered her hand toward the shadows that stirred there. Smiled as Halbrand’s fingers curled around her own, threading them together. He watched her carefully and she tugged him to her. “Tallius forgets his place,” he murmured as he wrapped his arms around her. “I will talk with him about his ambition. Ensure he knows those lands belong to you and you alone.”

“To me and to her.” Galadriel nodded toward Celebrian who was speaking to Mithrandir and pointing up toward the giant eagle continuing its approach. “I get to help you pick the last of the ring bearers.”

He looked ready to protest that for a brief moment before he nodded. Brought her hand up to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. “As long as they are for Men.”

It was her turn to nod, smile tugging to her lips as he grumbled about the giant eagle now in their courtyard. But she watched him nod to Mithrandir after the other Maia was settled atop the creature, watched her friend nod back before they took off into the sky.

Galadriel tugged on Halbrand’s hand, drawing him back inside. There was still so much to do.

Chapter Text

It had been hours since Mithrandir’s departure.

At one moment that seemed like an eternity. The ticking of the clock seeming to take forever, stretching out endlessly before him. At others it sped by, whipping by at a gallop that he could not alter, could not slow. But now the sun had set again, moon hidden behind the clouds that covered the sky. A constant threat of rain hanging in the air, waiting to begin spilling down and covering the world around him in splotches of grays.

He heard Galadriel and Celebrían’s breathing, the beat of their hearts. Practically in sync with one another as they lay upon the large bed, the little girl tucked carefully into Galadriel’s side. If he looked behind him, Halbrand knew he’d see Galadriel curled so that her back faced the balcony door, protecting the child from the darkness that slithered all around them.

His child would have no visions, no dreams that night. Her mind a tightly sealed fortress, impenetrable to all after he’d sealed the last of it, orchestrated it so she’d only think of pleasant things when she closed her eyes. Her warg and spider took up the rest of the bed, steady companions, ready to rip apart any threat that they could.

Halbrand pressed his hands into the stone railing as he looked out at his kingdom. He could hear Morendë and the others perched atop the parapets, ready to devour any that neared the castle walls. The wargs and wolves in the nearby forests doing their own patrols while the dragons in the east headed toward the castle, leaving behind the territories he’d had them protecting.

Everything had been going so well.

All of his plans in place, each section rolling over into the next. Precisely when he needed it to, expanding as he’d wanted. The pace perfected.

He’d accounted for everything. Even all of Galadriel’s plans, every little step she took to persuade him, each scheme he knew she was plotting in order to ease his need to rule into something more akin to ‘saving’, as she liked to call it. The same thing really, but one she could live with, one she could convince herself of as good and just when all she’d really done is swap one word for another.

But he hadn’t accounted for Melkor.

He should have.

He knew that.

But Halbrand had pushed the thought of him escaping out of his head.

Surely Manwë and the others would have prevented such calamity.

Why he’d thought as much was lost to him now? Had they not sorely underestimated the other Vala time and again? Had they not let him free once before? Of course he’d get away again.

Halbrand knew that. Truly he did.

He’d simply expected for it to happen later. That he’d have Middle Earth under his thumb already. That he’d be so intrinsically tied to it that there would be nothing that Morgoth could do to sunder his bonds to it. Nothing that could undo the balance he’d have brought, the order he would have created.

Halbrand could see the cracks already though. Could feel the dread creeping up his spine, the weight that seemed to clench tightly around the back of his neck, unwilling to let him go.

But he also heard their heartbeats.

The ones that he cherished unlike anything else he could recall.

The ones that beat in time with the one in this body. That had done the same when he’d been Annatar. That he did not doubt would have done so when he’d been Gorthaur, Sauron, a million other names lost to time, that he’d slithered into and discarded as necessary, moving from one plan to another.

As Mairon.

As whoever he would become next.

Galadriel was correct in her assessment that Morgoth would use them against him. Halbrand knew that breaking another by destroying that which they loved most was one of his favorite tactics. Breaking a body was easy, but breaking a mind—that was a torture he’d always found most exquisite. One that Halbrand enjoyed as well.

But he would not let that come to pass.

Halbrand stiffened at the feel of the breeze in his hair, far too like the caress of a hand he’d known once before. One that had come to him ages ago, that had listened to his repentance and then done little but order him home. Offering nothing but an audience with the others. With those who’d not bothered with his fate in an even longer time.

Your decisions have always been your own.

Halbrand reeled back at the voice in his head, whirled around as he tried to determine where it was coming from. He saw no one, no flicker of shadow that wasn’t under his control. No glimpse of light as he had back on that shoreline after the war had ended.

Only a familiarity, a hand reaching out for his. One that he refused to take.

It wasn’t until he let his sight slip from Seen to Unseen that he finally made out the shape of Eönwë on the balcony near him. Halbrand had expected to see Manwë’s gleaming sword in his hands, to feel the other Maia’s wrath again as he had after their last meeting. Not find him looking out over the city below, his appearance almost haggard. Shoulders slumped as he pressed his hands to the stone railing.

I am not returning. Surely Eönwë wasn’t foolish enough to think differently.

Halbrand could see Manwë being foolish enough. Thinking his authority would be enough to drive him back to shores he’d never stepped foot on. But Manwë had never understood him, had never bothered with him until well after he’d left the other Valar and willingly followed Morgoth into the darkness. The only one who’d understood that they were meant for so much more, that they could do so much more if only allowed themselves to. If only they did not stick to the regulated boxes they’d put themselves into, letting the world run wild, teetering more off course with every passing day from Eru’s vision of it.

I did not think you would.

There was no mirth in the other Maia’s voice. It seemed more like a long, drawn-out sigh. Halbrand watched him turn, watched Eönwë’s gaze flit to the two on the bed. A possessive anger drew up through him, ready to drive whatever he could through Eönwë, until the Maia simply looked away. Manwë is prepared to give Artanis pardon for turning her back on Valinor, to allow the child safe passage as well.

The words were not the comfort that Eönwë seemed to think they would be. They only left a pit of dread in Halbrand’s stomach. An option he did not wish to take but perhaps one that would need to be orchestrated. To part with them was not something he wished for and he doubted Morgoth would leave Valinor to its own devices this time around either. Nor did he trust that any of the others would protect them as he could. As he would.

But doubt trickled in as well.

What if he could not?

What if sending them away was the best course of action?

The pressure at the back of his neck only seemed to strengthen, the weight pressing down on his shoulders. Laughter tickling his ears, deep and horrid, pulling at him, beckoning him to look toward the east. Halbrand kept his head steady, staring out at the night sky as Eönwë continued to talk, to entreat.

And then little fingers brushed against his hand, a shining light flickered in his peripheral vision before he looked downward to find Celebrían tugging on him. Her little eyes narrowed as she looked Eönwë’s way. She was fury personified, the sun’s rays on the hottest day, beating down relentlessly, giving no reprieve.

“Leave my atto alone.”

Her light was blinding, overtaking the shadows that had clung to them and forced Halbrand to cover his eyes with one hand, his other clutching tightly to her own. When he opened them again moments later, Eönwë was gone and Celebrían was no longer at his side, but tucked still against her mother’s side.

The weight that had been pressing against him was gone, laughter no longer ringing in his ears, the only thing he wanted to look toward was the two of them again.

Halbrand crossed the room, the mattress dipping slightly as he sat down beside them. Celebrían’s breathing was normal, no sign that she’d actually moved from the bed, but she had been in the Unseen. He was certain of that much. Something he’d not expected of her quite yet, something she seemed to have done unintentionally.

He drew his fingers through both of their hair, pressed a kiss to both of them before he curled up against Galadriel. A million possibilities accumulating in his mind.

****

There were a million more matters that need to be tended to, but Halbrand found himself back on that balcony, looking down into the courtyard. Celebrían was below with other children. None of them was anywhere near as special as she was, but they treated her well, and her happiness was what mattered to him. So much that Galadriel had needed to remind him time and again that he shouldn’t simply blink any of them out of existence for any little transgression. That their child needed to learn to stick up for herself, to speak with others and manage her feelings with guidance.

Apparently killing any who annoyed you wasn’t considering managing one’s feelings either. It’d worked out well for him just fine, but he’d acquiesced to his wife’s desires on this one. Knew it wouldn’t be something she would change her mind on. Left those incidents for her to handle. No matter how he wanted to let a warg eat one or another from time to time.

He felt Galadriel’s approach, the brush of her fëa against him before she was standing beside him on the balcony. Halbrand half expected her to keep some distance between them, but the tension in his shoulders eased when she pressed up against his side. He wrapped his arm around her waist, angled himself so she could rest her cheek against his chest.

 “You have been quiet. Your mind troubled,” she began, and he found himself tensing again. Nearly pulled away, but she’d curled her arm around him as well.

He looked away from her, back down at their daughter who was involved in some sort of game. “You are worried I will fall prey to him again.”

Her chest rose and fall and he could tell she was considering her words. Something he detested. He preferred her biting ones. “You chose him before, Halbrand. He can offer much to you that I cannot.”

“And I have seen the ruination that taking what he offers amounts to.” Halbrand grasped hold of her chin. “Do you doubt my love for you? For her?”

“No, I do not. I…” But. Of course there was a but. He could see it in her eyes.

“You doubt if love is enough.” How funny that she was the one worrying about that. Though, he supposed it made considering everything that had happened before.

He did not expect for her to reach for his cheek. For her to brush her fingers against his skin, so gentle. “It is something that must be chosen day after day after day.”

“There is no choice in my loving you, in your loving me. Or do you forget our vows?” Made on purpose, spoken exactly as he had so nothing could sunder it, nothing could keep them apart. Not the walls she’d constructed around her mind, not the death of one of his fana’s, not the rings on their fingers. They were inextricably tied together and not simply because of the child that ran below.

“Do you not see how that is something he could utilize as well?” Galadriel asked, earning a frustrated noise that gurgled out of his throat as he pressed her hand to his cheek.

“Of course I have.” How could he not? “It’s all I have been thinking about these last few hours since—” He dropped her hand and stepped back, released a strangled breath.

“Since? Halbrand has something happened?” Now she was demanding. He heard the shift in her voice. The one that would not be denied.

There was little use in not telling her, but he didn’t want to form the words. Did not want to give weight to the possibilities offered. But Galadriel was next to him again, touching his arm, fingers curling around his chin and directing him to look at her. “Eönwë was here.”

He turned fully to look at her, and drew her away from the edge of the balcony. He took hold of her hands, brought them to his mouth and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “They have offered you and Celebrían safe passage back to Valinor. He says they will watch over you both there.”

There was no relief as he’d expected, only the furrowing of her brow. “And leave you alone here.”

Halbrand dropped her hands, mouth twisting. “You think me weak.”

“No. I think they miscalculate.” Galadriel had not moved but the anger that had surged within him deflated at her words. “Separating us will only bring folly.” Yes, precisely. He could kiss her at that acknowledgement, nearly did but then her gaze flicked back to the courtyard. “But…”

“But?” Halbrand did not like the way she looked as she turned back to him.

“My parents are there still…” Galadriel started, and this time she did not reach for him. She was already turning back toward the balcony, moving back to its stone rail as she continued. “They could…she could…”

He stepped after her, followed her gaze down to Celebrían hopping across stones, the others trailing behind. Surely she was not considering having Celebrían—

“She could be happy there.”

Halbrand reeled away from the balcony, pushed open the doors and headed inside. “They would turn her against me.” His voice grew louder with every word. Could she not see that? Their hatred of him, of all he’d done would sway any elf but her. It had nearly kept her from him.

Galadriel followed, closing the doors behind them. “She loves you too much to allow such a thing and they are not heartless. They may not understand us but they would not wish to harm her.”

This could not be happening. She could not be saying these words. He turned back toward her, unsurprised to see the fury in her eyes, reflecting his own. “You would send her away.”

It was an accusation.

One that Galadriel held her head high against. “I would have her safe.”

“She is safe with us.” He gestured toward the door, toward the two of them. To the castle they lived in, the lands they had.

“Is she though?”

Halbrand had thought he’d seen his wife break before. That night when she’d learned who he truly was or perhaps when he’d found her after everything had transpired in Eregion. Felt it when she felt his fana die. But nothing prepared him for her sob, for the way her knees seemed to buckle. He was upon her before she could hit the floor, arms wrapping tightly around her as she let out another sob, collapsing against him as he lowered them to the floor.

Her sorrow was wrenching, a gut punch that he’d not experienced, and nothing he said or did could quite calm it. He could feel her terror, her worry, the war that was happening within her about what was best for Celebrían.

Halbrand tried to soothe it, to calm her fears. “She has power, Galadriel—”

“Yes, power that she does not know how to control. Power that he will want to utilize, to corrupt.” Halbrand wiped at her tears, but she shook her head. “Do you truly think I would even consider this if I did not think it best for her? She has not been without me since she was conceived. Do you not understand the gravity of my letting her go, of my sending her away? How terrified I must be to even consider it?”

He did, even if he did not want to admit it. “Melmenya.”

“If you think you can protect her from all that is to come then she stays, but if there is even a flicker of doubt in your mind…Halbrand.” Another sob and he wrapped his arms tighter around her. She burrowed her face into his neck, her body shaking.

He wished he could say that he had no doubts. That he was strong enough, that they had enough resources and allies to keep Celebrían safe. But he could not let his pride make this decision. Could not discount the offer that had been given, no matter how he wished he could.

Celebrían’s safety mattered more than a wounded pride.

Even if it meant he did not know when he might see her again.

If he might do so.

Halbrand pressed a kiss to Galadriel’s forehead, his arms tightening around her as he said the words he did not want to utter, but knew were for the best.

“I will let him know.”

Galadriel’s grip on his tunic tightened, her body shook with the force of her sobs, but he could feel the flicker of relief swelling within her as well. Countering the dread that was curling throughout him, wanting to creep into this body’s bones, to sink deep and hurl him into something akin to despair. He recalled feeling something similar after he’d been expelled after Luthien and that damnable dog had defeated him. A gravity to all that had happened, no clear plan on how to dig himself out of the mess that he’d found himself in.

He tightened his grip on Galadriel, pressed his face into her hair. Breathed in her scent, let himself bask in the beauty of her hair, the light that he could feel within her. The love that was there for him. He was not losing her. She would be by his side still. He would not be without her.

Because she had been right in her assessment that they would need more than simply who he already had in his plans. They would need the dwarves. The elves. Adar. And Halbrand knew he would not be able to appeal to any of them on his own. Not after all that had transpired in the last few years.

They might all fear Morgoth but they feared him as well. Would probably not trust him. But they would trust Galadriel. Or at least trust her more than they did him.

But those were thoughts for later.

Now he needed to determine how best to explain all of this to their four-year-old.

Preferably in a way that meant the castle would remain standing after they did.

****

Dusk was beginning to settle in the sky. The vibrant blues of the day giving way to purples and pinks as day turned toward night. Halbrand descended the stairs into the courtyard with Galadriel at his side. She looked serene, as beautiful as always, but he could feel her inner turmoil. It echoed with his own through their bond even if outwardly it didn’t show.

Except for the way she clutched hold of his forearm.

She had been correct when she’d said Celebrían had never spent a day apart from her. They might not have always been in the same room since her birth, but Galadriel had always been with their daughter at either the start or end of each day. She’d trained the fiercest of their armies with the girl strapped to her back. Attended countless council meetings with the child asleep in her arms or the bassinet beside her.

Not because she did not trust him—well, not entirely because of that at first anyway—but the bond between mother and daughter had always been strong. Strengthened further during his time apart from them, even if Celebrían hadn’t even taken her first breath.

The four-year-old was hunched over one of the large rocks in the courtyard, speaking softly to her animal companions. “Five more minutes,” she started, not quite looking up at them as her silver hair spilled down over the rock, hiding whatever she had there. But Halbrand saw her nose wrinkle—the exact way Galadriel’s did when something disturbed her.

How many mannerisms would they miss in the coming months? How many little quirks would go unseen by them? What new words would she discover and begin to use on her own? Would her laugh alter? How tall might she become? She’d grown in bursts and spurts over the last four years. Sometimes it felt as though he’d leave to deal with business for a week only to return and find her an inch taller. Or speaking in sentences. Learning a new song.

Halbrand refused to think it would take longer than a few months, but both he and Galadriel knew the possibility of this coming war stretching out to years.

Decades.

Centuries.

Celebrían looked over at them, her little brow creasing as she pushed herself up. “Ammë, why are you sad?”

Halbrand wanted to grasp Galadriel back when she released her grip on his arm, but he let her go. Let her head over to their daughter before he joined them as well. She’d scooped the girl up onto her lap as she perched on the abandoned rock. “We have something to tell you, calawinë.”

Celebrían stilled in her mother’s arms, her gaze flickering between them. “Because of the bad man?”

“The bad man?” Halbrand ran his hand through the girl’s hair.

Celebrían nodded. “The one you don’t want me to see in my dreams.”

“Yes.” What else could he say but that?

“But you can stop him,” Celebrían replied. Any other time and Halbrand would have beamed at those words. Would have let himself bask in his daughter’s staunch belief.

“We are going to do our best,” Halbrand assured her, taking her small hands in his.

Children had never been something he’d considered. Never part of his plan. Not until the elf holding her had come into his world. And while at first Celebrían had been a means to control Galadriel, to secure her more deeply to him, he’d found himself loving her.

It was a strange emotion.

Part possession, a bit of obsession and pride. Wanting the best for her, putting her safety above all else. Selfish and selfless. He might not care about any other child within these walls, but he would move the earth itself to keep her safe.

He would let himself lose her if it meant she was safe.

“And while we are doing that we need you to be safe,” he continued, unsurprised when she frowned.

“I’m safe with you.”

If it was anyone else but Morgoth, Halbrand would have readily agreed. But he knew his old master, his old friend. He knew that Vala would utilize her in the most abhorred ways if he could and Halbrand was not willing to give him the opportunity.

“You know how much you like the stories atto tells you about all of my adventures from before I met him,” Galadriel murmured, getting Celebrían to look back at her. Celebrían’s lower lip trembled even as she nodded. “Well, now, it is time for you to go on one.”

That seemed to settle her a bit, but Halbrand could see the wheels turning in her head, realization dawning in her eyes as she looked at his wife. “You’re going to come with me?”

“No.”

Their daughter’s eyes welled with tears. “But I want you to come with me.”

“I know, but Ammë and Atto need to help Middle Earth,” Galadriel said, wiping at the child’s tears. “And you’ll get to meet Nammë and Natto and so many of Atto’s brothers and sisters.”

“Like Aratto Mithrandir?” Celebrían looked over at him and Halbrand forced a nod.

He still despised them being called that but he could allow that now, if it comforted her.

“And there will be horses to ride,” Galadriel continued, painting a beautiful picture for what was to come. For all they would miss. “New forests to explore. You will learn how to make paper boats that can sail and fly. Maybe sleep in my bed from when I was your age. Collect seashells from the seashore. Finally be allowed to use a forge with help from others.”

Celebrían giggled at that and it was good to see her smile. But then she looked between them both again, her little face far too serious. “But can I still see you?”

“You will always feel us here.” Galadriel pressed her fingers to the little girl’s chest, right above her heart. “And we will be able to speak here.” Her head.

“What about Tyelpë and Arma?” Celebrían asked, and Halbrand glanced over at Galadriel.

“They will come with you,” he said, once his wife had nodded.

“Who will sing me to sleep? Who kisses my hurts when I fall?” Celebrían asked and Halbrand swallowed at the tears that filled her eyes. This was when he usually destroyed whatever was bothering her, when he righted her world with a snap of his fingers, but he could not do that now.

“Nammë and Natto kissed many of mine and my brothers,” Galadriel assured as she kissed their daughter’s forehead. “They will do the same for you. They will sing and tell you stories as well. Ones that Atto doesn’t even know about me.”

“That you can tell me when we come to get you,” Halbrand told her. “I will need you to remember them all. Especially the embarrassing ones.”

Her little giggle turned quickly into a sniffle. “How long will that be?”

“I do not know, calawinë,” Halbrand replied with a sigh. He drew the child into his lap, tucked her head under his chin as he held her close before tugging Galadriel over to them as well. “But we will do everything in our power to ensure we are not parted from you for long.”

He would raise the entire world if he had to. Destroy it all in order to obliterate Morgoth. They could remake it anew. Him and Galadriel. And then once it was safe, they would bring Celebrían back.

****

Eönwë was waiting for them in the courtyard once they had gathered Celebrían’s things. The child couldn’t take too much with her on the journey across the world, but there were items that needed to go with her. Pieces for her to hold onto, to reconnect her with her life back in Middle Earth.

The blanket she had been swaddled in as a babe and carried around with her as she’d learned to crawl and walk, that she now slept with every night without fail.

A small carving of a fell beast that he’d made her for her first birthday. That she’d teethed on at first and then had become the hero in so many of her adventures with her friends.

A sketch of Galadriel that he’d doodled once and Celebrían had claimed for herself.

Little pieces of her life. Not enough, but it would have to do.

The other Maia nodded to him as Halbrand accompanied Galadriel down the stairs, their daughter curled up tightly in her arms. Celebrían had her face turned into her mother’s neck, arms locked tight around her as she held on. The spider and warg following after.

Halbrand noted the way Eönwë regarded the latter two, the twisting of his mouth.

She will not be parted with them, he warned.

Eönwë shook his head. They are vile creatures—

They are loved and they love her. Galadriel’s voice now. Halbrand glanced over at her as they stepped off the last step. She was focused on Eönwë. Do not let the bias within you shield you from seeing the truth that is there.

Halbrand doubted those words were only for the other Maia. “You will deliver her to my parents,” Galadriel continued, this time for all to hear. “To no one else but them.” For a moment it seemed that the other Maia might protest that, but Eönwë nodded as he stepped aside, showing the great eagle that waited to deliver them to Valinor.

We will know if you do not, Halbrand warned. The consequences that would be rendered if such a task was done would be catastrophic. Something he easily let flow into Eönwë’s mind.

I swear it will be done as you’ve asked.

Halbrand could find no thread of deception in the other, no tick, no movement, no sliver of doubt. His word was true. They would have to trust him.

Something he detested doing.

He wanted to yell for the other Maia to leave. To head back to Valinor empty handed. To take Celebrían and hide her away. But where could he even place her? There was no location in Middle Earth that did not have Morgoth’s stains already upon it. No where that she could be placed that he could not find. And while Halbrand could not say for certain that it wasn’t the same in Valinor—after all he had poisoned the elves minds there long ago—she had more of a chance of being protected.

Anger over his own powerlessness wanted to overwhelm him, to pull him downward. For him to lash out, but he could not yet. Not while she clung to Galadriel, peeking out from under her little arm to look at him. To see the strength he’d always been for her.

He would not let her down now.

“It is time, calawinë,” Halbrand murmured as he reached over to rub his daughter’s back. Celebrían shook her head, pressing her face back into Galadriel’s neck. “You are going to ride on the great eagle you were so happy about.”

“I don’t want to.”

“I know, my darling girl.” Galadriel brushed her fingers through the child’s hair as she continued walking over. “I love you more than anything in this world and the next. And I will see you again soon. As will your Atto.”

It took some effort to unlock Celebrían’s arms and hand her over to Eönwë, but she didn’t struggle once he had her. Only looked back at the two of them with tears in her eyes as her pets and bag were secured to the great eagle as well. Galadriel stepped forward, kissed the little girl’s cheek, murmured something in her ear before she reached behind her, grasping for his hand. Halbrand quickly took hold of it as he stepped forward and kissed their daughter’s forehead.

He brushed her hair from her cheek and wiped at her eyes. “Namárië, calawinë.”

“Namárië,” Celebrían hiccupped as he stepped back, fingers tightening around Galadriel’s.

Galadriel gripped his hand tightly as the great eagle took flight. Her expression might have been bright, reassuring as she waved to their daughter, but he could feel her inner turmoil. He mimicked her stance, lifting his free hand toward the sky, never breaking eye contact with Celebrían until the clouds swallowed her and the others.

Their raised hands fell together, though their joined ones remained steadfast. He could feel the swell of sorrow, of pain that lanced through his wife. The anger that simmered below it. Was unsurprised to see the fury in her eyes when she turned to face him.

She was magnificent like this. The rage of unending sunlight that left lands parched and cracking. That brought about fires that burned all in their paths, rain never quite able to form and offer any relief.

“Morgoth will rue the day he decided to leave the Void,” she told him, head held high. Not a tear in her eyes.

This was the warrior, the Commander of the Elvish armies the founder of Eregion, the only one who had hunted him through the ages when all others had preferred to rest on their laurels, to give into the mirage of peace. As beautiful and terrible as the dawn. Treacherous as the seas, ready to dash any ship that dared enter its waters to pieces with a wave of her hand. Stronger than the foundations of the very earth they stood on.

Halbrand brought her hand to his mouth, kissed her knuckles. “We will do that and so much more, calinya. Come, we have much to do before morning comes.”

And now, with Celebrían gone, there was nothing left in Middle Earth to temper them.

Chapter Text

Foresight was a strange beast.

Knowing what might possibly happen was a burden that few without the gift could truly comprehend.

Finrod had known long before he’d left Valinor’s shores that he would die. He’d known by who’s hand, all the pieces that would fall into place for it to happen, and the tenuous path it would put his beloved sister on.

He’d also known that it would lead to this moment.

All the pain, the heartbreak and strife was worth it as he spotted the giant eagle above.

The others were certain that Eönwë would be successful with his task. That somehow he would be carting Sauron back to these lands—though whether his hands tied or willing had still been up in the air. A significant piece plucked from Morgoth’s hand and now in theirs.

They were wrong.

What Eönwë carried was far more important.

His father had not asked why they needed to ready Galadriel’s room in their childhood home, simply had it done. Rooms refreshed and court matters deferred to that building for the foreseeable future. Old toys pulled out of storage and set back up, ready to be used. His parents held back their questions, well aware that he would give no answers, do nothing to alter the course. Tipping them off could upset the balance, have the Valar deciding on a different course of action. And that would not do.

Finrod stood beside his parents in the courtyard of their old home as the eagle landed. It was not supposed to be there and yet it had come, as Finrod had known it would.

The Maia was grim faced as he looked over at them. Earwen gripped Finarfin’s forearm as a big spider—though hardly the biggest they’d seen before—clambered off the back of the eagle followed fairly quickly by a warg. His parents had never encountered such a creature before, but this one made no move to attack. Simply sat, staring up at the Maia, patient.

Earwen still shuddered though. The darkness that emanated from them could be felt even from the distance they stood.

Finrod kept his gaze on the Maia, on the wisps of blond hair that spilled from the cloaked bundle that Eönwë was helping lower to the ground.

Tiny hands yanked on the hood as soon as feet touched the floor. His mother’s gasp echoed in Finrod’s ears as they spied the little girl. Her hair was a shade or two lighter than Galadriel’s and while the eyes weren’t the right shade either, her mannerisms were like looking at a copy of his sister at this age. Her nose twitched as she let the cloak go, ignoring Eönwë’s protests to keep it on.

Finrod moved swiftly, heading over. He crouched down so that he was eye level with her. “I have been waiting a long time to meet you.”

Her smile was as bright as Galadriel’s had been whenever she’d seen him at this age. Those eyes wide with wonder and a hint of sadness that he’d always seen in his sister as well. Longing, for that which lies across the sea, even if she hadn’t known it at the time. Celebrían leaned toward him and he turned his head as she cupped her hands, letting her press them around his ear.

“I dreamed of you.”

It was one thing to have heard her in his mind, to have seen visions of her, another entirely to have her there, to feel her little hands. “I know.”

Her nose wrinkled again as Finrod looked at her. He bopped it gently before glancing over at the creatures. Her smile quickly faded, mouth tight, hands balling into little fists. “And what are their names?” he asked.

Her shoulders relaxed, the fight that had been stirring within her dying out. “Tyelpë and Arma. They’re mine. They have to come with me.”

Finrod nodded. “You shall not be parted from them.” Eönwë cleared his throat, but Finrod barely paid him any attention. “They are family as well.” That must have been the correct thing to say because Celebrían threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly. Finrod scooped her up and finally looked back at the Maia. “Thank you for keeping your promise.” He took the bag and turned on his heel. “Tell your friends to follow, calawinë.”

She sniffled and pressed her head into his neck. “That’s what my atto calls me.”

Finrod pushed down his feelings in regard to her father. They would do him little good at this moment and had nothing to do with the child in his arms. He could hardly deny that she had been created from his fëa but that did not mean she was representative of his vast crimes.

To this little girl Sauron was father. And if he called her calawinë and she could sniffle and ache for him as much as Finrod knew she did for Galadriel then there had to be some light within him, didn’t there? Galadriel would have needed to want for the child to take, to bring her into this world. Sauron would have needed to as well. Finrod had no desire to know the details beyond that and thankfully his visions had never gone into detail either.

“This is Celebrían, Galadriel’s daughter,” he said as he stopped in front of his parents.

“Of course she is,” Earwen stepped forward, tears in her eyes. “You are nearly identical to how your mother looked when she was little.”

Celebrían peeked out at her, loosened her grip on his neck. “Ammë said you’d sing me to sleep and read me stories.”

“And show you how to sail a boat as well,” Earwen replied. Celebrían reached for her and Finrod let his mother take over. The animals hurried after as he turned toward Finarfin.

His father watched the other two, a smile tugging at his lips before he turned around. Finrod followed his gaze.

Eönwë had not left.

Of course not. That would have been too easy.

“I will need to let the others know. They will likely want her.”

“She is our kin.”

“And she is part-Maia.” 

“Do you think the other elves will stand with you once they know who her father is?”

 It wasn’t a threat, but a serious question coming from him. Concern in his tone, a graveness in his eyes.

“Now is not the time to allow anger to creep into our hearts. No good came from that last time.”

“I do not say any of this in anger but as a warning, to give you time. We all know Manwe will do whatever it takes.” Including using a child if he must. “But you, of all the elves, High King, have other Valar on your side. Now may be the time to call them in.”

Finarfin nodded and finally, Eönwë and the eagle took to the sky.

“Who are you thinking?”

“Yavanna.” Of course. No doubt she’d be able to get Aule on their side as well. “And your mother should reach out to her father. Get him to speak to Ulmo. Osse. Uinen.”

“And what of the other elves?”

“I will speak with them. For now, focus on making sure she is comfortable. Galadriel must see how right she was in her decision to send her here when she finally comes home.”

“Yes, father.” Finrod bowed his head and started for the house.

He did not have the heart to tell his parents that his sister would never permanently return to Valinor.

Her home was across the sea.

*****

Galadriel stared out at the map along the table. The little figurines that represented various parts of Middle Earth’s current political landscape. She wanted to wipe them all off the board. To send them scattering to the floor. How had they all so easily forgotten the folly of dividing themselves as they had in the last millennia?

She could not blame men for this. Nor the dwarves. None of their lives were as long-lived as the elves. Who should have remembered? Who had let so many of the lessons of the past be forgotten.

Greenwood to the East. Lindon to the West. Smatterings of others in various places. Even the dwarven kingdoms didn’t communicate as well among themselves as they should have. It was worse among the Men. The conquering, the land grabs. Even between these chosen ones who wore rings that they should not.

That glittered on their fingers, giving them something. She hadn’t quite put her finger on it, but there was something else to them. Something that bolstered them, that gave them a stamina that far surpassed others. Humans aged differently than her kind and it had only been five years since she’d been among these ones, but Bronwyn had told her things.

Whispered words that Galadriel had not imparted to Halbrand, while she watched and waited. They healed as they should not, getting up from wounds that should have incapacitated them, from some that should have meant their death.

Not quite corruption.

At least not yet.

Though she thought she saw flickers of it in some of their eyes but was it due to their rings or simply their nature? Was their greed innate and the rings plucked on those threads, strengthening them into what she saw now or was it the cause of it? Did it matter?

“The people will not be happy to join with orcs,” Tallius continued. “Especially those along Mordor’s borders.”

“They fought side-by-side with them for decades,” Galadriel recalled. She could not discount all that those nearest the borders had endured these last few years, but grievances needed to be put aside to defeat a far greater evil. “Better to have them as allies than to have them on the side of Morgoth.”

“We could always slaughter them all.”

“Is that not what you’ve been trying and failing at for the last several years?”

“But if we were to make them believe we are forming an alliance and then use that to put an end to them?”

“No.”

“Your highness, surely you see the benefit of—”

“We will not win this fight by manipulating our allies.”

“They are hardly our allies.”

“But they will be.” Had to be. A divided Middle Earth would crumble quickly against Morgoth. “We will only invite more strife, more chaos if we do not learn from the mistakes of the past.”

“Orcs and men worked side by side but five years ago. Under our King’s very own banner.” That ridiculous shape with the eye.

“And then they betrayed him and us.”

She despised how pleased Halbrand looked in that moment. The backing of his men toward him, these ring bearers that he had picked. Using rings made by her kin. Ones who he had slaughtered. Effortlessly with the help of Adar and his orcs.

“They are not the only ones who betrayed—”

“Leave us.”

The others didn’t need to be told twice, sweeping out of the room without another word. It was hardly the first time they had been ordered as such. Especially not in this room. But it had been some time since tempers had flared between her and Halbrand. Not since that first year, especially those first months before Celebrían had finally been born.

Many arguments had been had. Words tossed about, daggers at his neck, clenched from her hand and clattering to the floor before he fucked her against this table or she rode him atop that chair.

“I am not the one you are angry with, Galadriel.”

No. He was not.

And yet, he was if her mind twisted itself enough around. It was difficult to keep it from doing so. The darkest whispers in her mind wanting her to blame him, to believe that if he’d never been aligned with Morgoth in the first place that they would not need to worry about Celebrían. But she knew that wasn’t completely true. Celebrían would still be threatened by the sheer matter of her parentage. As the child of an elf and a Maia.

But if she didn’t hold onto the anger, onto the rage that wanted to swallow her whole then grief would slip back in and drown her all the same. Pull her down into its relentless undertow and Galadriel wasn’t sure she’d be able to pull herself back from it.

Perhaps if it had been fifty years from now or even as little as twenty she could have rationalized Celebrían being away from them better. But their daughter was four. Far too little to be away from either of them and even though she knew Valinor was the best place for her, it did not stop Galadriel from aching for her.

She pressed her palms down onto the table, fingers curling into fists against the smooth marble. “Galadriel.”

Eyes closing at the sound of his voice, at the feel of his hand against her back. She did not want this tenderness, was grateful when his hand slid up her back and caught her around the back of her neck. As he gripped it tightly in his hand, enough to send shivers down her spine.

“Hush,” Halbrand murmured, but his voice was far more like it had been before, and if she closed her eyes she could imagine it was Annatar behind her. "I know what you need.” What they both needed. His voice had altered too.

No longer the pitch she’d grown used to over the last five years. No, this was Annatar’s voice. Annatar’s hands that lifted the skirts of her dress with his uncalloused hands. Ones that smoothed over her thighs, which drew her small clothes from her body.

Galadriel knew that he and Halbrand were the same. That every face he’d taken was him, including the one who had ordered her beloved brother’s death.

But she still felt the most comfort in this one.

Despite all of the harm he’d caused. All of her loved ones that he’d murdered.

Their bond was stronger than the foundations of the earth, part of the music of the world now. Its own melody within the rest of it. She’d glimpsed it in his mind from time to time, pieces of the one that he’d first sung into being, that had been distorted by Morgoth’s undercurrent. But theirs was now curled through the rest, something she knew Annatar had done when they had bound themselves together in that glade. She’d thought the elves’ bond between one another was the strongest, one that supposedly didn’t disappear even when one of them died.

But theirs had sundered all others either of them might have made before. Only giving way to allow Celebrían’s to tie with them as well. It wrapped itself tightly around her as he parted her thighs. One hand pressing her onto the table as his other slid through her folds, seeking.

There was no respite as he readied her. No words shared as he took and gave, that slight edge of pain within the pleasure that reminded her how alive she was in this moment. His hand moved from her back to her throat, holding her down by that as he nudged her thighs further apart.

Its pace was brutal once he was inside her, unrelenting. Everything else pushed from her mind as she focused on the pleasure-pain, on the way he carved himself a place within her. Being the sole focus of his attention was always a heady experience. One that Galadriel had thought before would wear off with time, but it never lessened. If anything she thought it might have grown over their years together, barely scraping the intensity that would eventually come to pass.

She cried out at the absence of him when he pulled out. Her protest died in her throat as he turned her to face him. It wasn’t quite Annatar who faced her now, nor Halbrand. A mixture of the two, with his hair long and dark, his ears pointed like he had been in his previous form but the beard was all human.

Galadriel touched his cheek, fingers brushing against the familiar scruff as she stared into the eyes that echoed her own grief.

He lifted her to sit on the edge of the table and she pulled him closer. Drew him into a kiss. One full of longing even as they battled for control. Her hands fell to his tunic, tugged it, needing it off of him so she could touch him more freely. It was gone with a snap of his fingers, her own clothes disappeared as well, leaving the two of them naked and wanting.

Galadriel drew him to her neck, let him suck and nip as she clutched at his hair, ran her leg up his thigh. She wrapped her hands around his cock and guided it toward her folds, let it slide through her slick once, twice before she was through playing, needing him in her.

“Hard and fast.” It was practically an order, one that he was more than willing to fulfill.

She let her head fall back as he bored himself into her, the movements jerking her body against the table. Wrapped her legs around him as he pressed his hands to the table beside her, altering the angle so he could drive himself more thoroughly into her. And then Galadriel grasped hold of his chin, ensuring her husband was looking at her as she spoke.

“There will be no void for him this time. I will not let them dole out their brand of punishment only to wait another handful of millennia for him to reap all of this again.” The Valar had been given the opportunity to handle Morgoth twice now and each time they had failed. Each time he had fooled them—whether with talk of reform or by managing to escape their so-called prison.

She would not allow him to have another chance. She would not be separated from her daughter again.

“So vicious, melmenya.” She liked the smile on his face, the adoration that she saw, but it wasn’t enough.

Her fingers dug into his chin. “Tell me you agree.”

“He will meet his end, once and for all.” There was no doubt in his voice, only a cold determination in his eyes. “I promise you.”

Galadriel released him, grasped hold of his shoulder instead as she cried out. He whispered plans in her ears. Spoke of their future, of all that lay before them once this was over.

And for once, Galadriel was not thinking of ways to counter his plans, but how to bolster them.

****

Galadriel’s office wasn’t quite what she’d had in Eregion, but it was her own. Trees could be seen from every window and while there was no stained-glass feature like she’d had before, various elven artifacts were all about the room. Some had been salvaged from the ruins of Ost-in-Edhil but most had been gifts from the Greenwood elves as tokens of friendship. The sun brought a majestic light to the space, bathing it in sunlight for most of the day.

Usually it was her sanctuary within this sea of Men. But Galadriel felt no warmth from it now. Not with Celebrían’s corner void of her presence. Her toys were right as she’d left them. A half-finished rainbow waiting to be completed. Her gaze kept flickering to it even as she’d tried to stick to the task at hand.

She had called this meeting.

These were her advisors, those she’d cultivated over the last five years who listened to her above all in this kingdom. There were tasks to complete before she left to speak to the Lindon elves. Ones that would be vital in the coming days for the kingdom, for everyone’s survival.

But she couldn’t stop looking at the space where Celebrían should be. One of the animals with her, curled up at her feet or resting on her shoulder. The absence of her sunk like a rock in Galadriel’s stomach.

Galadriel pressed her hand to her chest. Her heart was beating too fast, her lungs not taking in air like they should. Sweat beaded on her forehead as adrenaline coursed through her.

“Out!” Bronwyn barked and the others filed out.

The healer knelt in front of her as the doors closed. Hands clasping her own tightly. “Follow my voice, Galadriel.”

She did as directed, focusing on Bronwyn’s voice as the woman said. It took time but Galadriel steadied her heartbeat, worked to get her breathing under control.

Melmenya.

Of course he’d felt her distress.

I am fine.

Galadriel.

Do not fret. Focus on your tasks as I am mine. She could feel him lingering in her mind. Bronwyn is with me. Only then did Galadriel feel him recede from her mind. She took the glass from the healer and slowly sipped the cool water. It took a few more moments before Bronwyn moved around the table again and sat opposite her.

Galadriel set the glass down and nodded toward the map of the castle and surrounding lands. “We need to shift the crops a bit from the original plan for the year. Potatoes are a priority. Cabbage and kale. Beans. Carrots, turnips and beats.” Galadriel indicated each field that would be used inside and outside of the castle walls. “I want an accurate count of what we have in storage. How much wheat, corn, preserves. What we have in weapons, wax, linen. Everything and anything.”

She knew they had some, that they had been accumulating a storage to feed the population for a few years, not simply over the long, cold months when little grew. That Halbrand had been stockpiling weapons and materials to make more as well.

“I want new drafts made for accommodating twice the population in this city as we have now. Another if it is tripled.”

Bronwyn’s jaw went slack as she looked up at her, quill hovering above the paper. “Triple?”

“When we laid siege to Angband it lasted hundreds of years. Other sieges lasted a handful of them, some only a few days. I would prefer to plan for the former and hope we do not need to withstand anything for that long.” She did not want to think of being parted from Celebrían for a year let alone hundreds of them.

“It will be done,” Bronwyn said, adding to her notes.

“We have the Anduin but we will want to guard its source.” They could not afford to be cut off from it. “Thankfully it continues downstream and our allies are to the north of us, where it begins.”

Bronwyn nodded again, rising as Galadriel headed toward a window. Preparations were underway for the small contingent that would head with Halbrand to Mordor. One of his Nazgul beside him, barking orders at the soldiers.

“Do you think the orcs will join us?” Bronwyn asked as she joined her by the window.

“I think that Adar will not wish for them to fall under Morgoth’s boot once more.” Nor would he want them to fall under her husband’s. “No good can come of that for them.”

“And the beasts?”

Morendë sat perched on a tower, his shadow cast across all those below. Every so often a passerby would look up to him, trembling, but most barely paid him any mind. Used to seeing him lounging on the castle, waiting for their king to call.

“Many of them follow Halbrand.”

“But not all,” Bronwyn murmured.

“No, not all.” There were many who had their own scores to settle against her husband. Countless trolls and other creatures who would delight in the opportunity to harm him. But the fell beasts, some dragons, and the wargs all looked to him. “The Greenwood elves will stand with us. As will the others.”

Galadriel glanced at Bronwyn as the woman sighed. “They haven’t responded to any of your messages.”

“They will have to when I go to them in person.” She reached over, squeezed Bronwyn’s shoulder before stepping away.

“Are you certain that is wise?” Bronwyn asked and it was Galadriel’s turn to sigh.

“Mithrandir will accompany me. Oropher or Thranduil will as well.” And the Lindon elves would not harm her. She had to believe that. They might never understand her choices but they would see that a united front against Morgoth was the only chance any of them had.

“You will go to them and the king will go to Adar.”

Galadriel’s expression softened. “He will not take Theo.”

Bronwyn shook her head. “Theo is his page. I can no more stop his going then I can the passage of time.”

“He will keep him safe.”

“His priority will be—”

Galadriel reached over and took hold of Bronwyn’s hand. “I will make it one of his priorities.”

Bronwyn squeezed back, her shoulders dropping slightly. “I will ensure the others are given their instructions, ensure they are followed through.”

“Thank you, Bronwyn.” Galadriel glanced back at Celebrían’s corner.

“She is with your family, is she not?”

Galadriel nodded. “Then she is loved where she is, Galadriel. Keep hold of that knowledge.”

Another nod and then Bronwyn exited the room. Galadriel moved back to the window, but didn’t look down at the preparations taking place. She focused on the area outside of the castle walls, allowed her sight to reach as far as it would, Melian’s words echoing in her ears.

She would need to walk it all before she left. Determine precisely where her own girdle would extend and hope her own abilities would be enough to do as needed.

****

The great beast extended its head toward her, tried to nudge her shoulder, but Galadriel side stepped the creature. She shook her head as she glanced over at her husband. Knew quite well what he was trying to offer. But arriving on the back of a fell beast would stir trouble that they did not need. Only add to the beliefs of the others, bringing them further from her goal, from what was needed.

“He will protect you.”

“I do not need protection from my kin,” she hissed, turning to face him.

All pretense of Annatar might have been gone from his form but the cold calculation in his eyes echoed what she’d come to know in Eregion. She rarely saw it within Halbrand, at least not directed toward her. She held his gaze, unwilling to back down on this. Her stubbornness as great as his own, no matter what he might think.

“You will need him more than I,” Galadriel continued. “Mithrandir shall be meeting me in less than a day’s time. Disa and her entourage as well as whoever Oropher has decided to send. I have plenty of soldiers accompanying me. You shall have Morendë and a handful of others that have been trained to ride the creatures.”

Halbrand  scoffed, waved her words off. “Adar is hardly a threat.”

“He took you from me once, órenya, do not doubt his thirst for vengeance.” She hated to remind him of those circumstances, to twist what had happened in those moments. Adar may have been the one to destroy Annatar’s body but all that had led up to that moment had been her husband’s doing. “Do not tempt him to repeat the task before you can tell him of the real threat against us all.”

His mouth had thinned, eyes darkening. “It would be far easier to simply wipe him off the board.”

Galadriel stepped over to him, placed a hand on his forearm. “The orcs do not like you.”

She could see the urge to shake her off in his stance, but these were their last moments together before they would be parted for days. Galadriel was counting on him needing to keep her close until the moment he had to let her go.

He drew her to him, tucked her hand in his arm as he steered them away from the others who were readying her horse. “They do not need to like me to follow orders.”

“But why follow yours if Morgoth can offer them the chance of revenge on the one who killed their father?” She pointed out, deliberately turning her head as he scowled. “These are not the ones who bled under his banner, Halbrand. They are generations apart, only hearing stories of his wickedness. But they know you. They know how little you cared for their existence.”

He stopped walking. “I let them kill and pillage as they desired.”

She arched her brow. “When it fits your plans. You were more than happy to sacrifice them when needed.”

Anyone else who beheld him now would be terrified. Anger radiated from him, his lip curled into something crossed between a scowl and a sneer. “Then why would they bother to follow me at all?”

“Because Adar will want them to and they will listen to him.” Galadriel patted his chest as she stepped away from him.  “And you will offer him what we discussed.”

Halbrand sighed, following. “Galadriel.”

She whirled around. “I will not go from one war to another. From one threat against our daughter to another.” Jabbed a finger into his chest. He caught hold of it, pressed her hand to him “You will put your anger aside and you will think of her. Of the life you wish for her to have. The Middle Earth that she will come back to. Do you truly want it to be one where threats lurk around every corner for her? Waiting to take her from us again?”

The scowl was gone, the anger in his eyes giving way to concern. To grief. “He might not even accept the terms.”

“He will.” Her voice was adamant. “All he wants is a place for his children and you are offering him that.”

Another sigh. “He has little reason to trust in my word.”

“And that is why you are giving him my letter.”  She reached up, brushed the back of her fingers against his cheek. “I do not wish us to part at odds, Halbrand.”

“Then take Morendë with you.” He nodded toward the fell beast that lingered.

“No.”

His grip on her hip tightened, his eyes narrowed. “You try my patience.”

“And you mine.” She snapped and then released a long breath as she stepped forward. Harsh words would not help in this situation. He was looking for a battle and she would not give it to him now. Instead Galadriel wrapped her arms around him, rested her head against his chest. It took a moment but he reciprocated the hug, rested his chin on the top of her head.

She knew the worries in his mind, the fear that wanted to steer his methods, but fear would not help them move forward. She tilted her head so she was looking at him. “I am not staying with them, aranya.”

He stared down at her for a long moment, searched her eyes, her mind. There were no traces of deceit there. She meant she what she said. Finally he gave a nod.

Galadriel brought one of his hands to her mouth and pressed a kiss to the knuckles. “Namárië.”

Halbrand caught her chin, the kiss he pressed to her mouth full of longing, of so many words that would take too long to say at that moment. Promises for what was to come, to the future he was insistent on carving out for them. Galadriel reciprocated it, pouring everything she felt and wanted into it as well.

He brushed her cheek as he pulled back, pressed one more kiss to her forehead. “Namárië, calinya.”

Her feet felt heavy as she turned from him, as she walked over to her horse and mounted.

Five years ago she hadn’t been able to imagine how difficult it would be to walk away. But she would be back. As would he. As would Celebrían.

And Morgoth would be nothing more than a tale told to children, never to darken any doorstep again.