Chapter Text
OST-IN-EDHIL
51 YEARS BEFORE THE BIRTH OF HALBRAND
"Annatar!" Galadriel called again, although the howling summer winds stole his name from her lips ere it could reach him.
The slopes of Gildor, the mount which rose tallest over the ribboning Glanduin and their noble city of Ost-in-Edhil, had long since disappeared beneath a silver curtain of summer rain. Heather bowed beneath the winds, and rivulets of rainwater coursed over the ancient stone in gleaming threads, while above them the clouds churned with the same restless majesty of the Sea.
Yet Annatar climbed ever higher, scarcely seeming to note the rain plastering his luxurious robes against his frame or the mud clinging to his boots. Flashes of lightning illuminated him in brilliant white, and every bone-rattling peal of thunder drew another laugh from his lips—bright and almost boyish despite the immeasurable age lurking behind those cunning eyes.
At the summit he spread his arms wide as though welcoming an old and dearly beloved friend, his white-blonde hair whipped into streaming banners by the wind. And for one breathless moment, he appeared to her eyes no mere elf standing at the highest peak of a rain-lashed mountain—no, Annatar seemed to Galadriel then a radiant spirit born of the storm itself, and she halted several yards below him, her breath catching hard and fast within her breast.
He was the most beautiful creature she'd witnessed in all her years.
Not merely fair, as all the Eldar were fair, but possessed of a terrible splendor which seemed forever to hover just beyond the reach of words. Lightning danced across the clouds behind him, throwing his silhouette into vivid relief until every graceful line of his drenched body shone against the weeping sky.
Awe welled within Galadriel, and so too did a sudden realization that the storm had grown fierce enough that the fine hair upon the back of her neck stood on end, and the air itself teemed with raw, Unseen power. "Annatar!" she cried once more, louder now, her laughter and her wariness mingling upon the wind. "Come away now, mellon!"
Yet the thunderstorm answered her first. A hurtling spear of searing fire tore downward with such violence that the mountain itself seemed to lurch beneath her booted feet. It struck the peak scarcely a stone's throw from where Annatar stood, exploding the rock in a shower of sparks and steam. For the briefest instant, he vanished behind a blaze of unbearable light.
Galadriel's heart stopped.
Then he emerged through the drifting smoke, laughing still—though now with the wild exhilaration of one who brushed against death and found it magnificent. Her shoulders sagged with relief, and she resumed her nimble climb upwards to reunite with her administrator. "Annatar!"
At last he turned back to her, and whatever manic wonder held him captive upon the summit softened the instant his eyes latched to hers, yielding to a wonder infinitely more tender. The distance between them disappeared in a few of his long, effortless strides until he stood before her, rain streaming from his hair and catching upon the curve of his jaw. Without a word, Annatar cupped her face between cold hands and kissed her, and she answered him with a joy no less fierce than the storm itself as another roll of thunder shook Gildor's mount all around them.
Galadriel arched herself upwards against him, their soaked bodies straining against one another. He wasted little time in divesting himself of his robes, which he folded with neatness and laid upon a flat rock behind Galadriel, his eyes dark and hungry each time the storm caught them in its light. Then he set his mouth to her neck, nipping at her soaked skin, and his hands caressed one little breast over her gown ere he flipped her around and pressed her down upon his bundle of clothing.
She gasped, clawing softly at the rock when Annatar hiked up her skirts and worked his fingers against her dampening seam to prepare her for his cock. Her eyelids fluttered, her face and hair streaming with rain as he fully bared her white backside to the storm. She shuddered a little at the driving rain soaking between her legs, yet Annatar merely pushed her smallclothes aside and sheathed himself within her the very moment he deemed her wet enough to enter.
"Annatar …" she moaned, and he yanked her hips back harder against his with a short, rough exhale of approval. Galadriel's entire body bobbed against her makeshift mattress, her mouth gaping as he plunged in and out, in and out, deeper and deeper until she was crying out for more, more and his clever fingers sneaked between their slapping bodies to massage at her pearl once more.
She yelped once, when lightning crashed not far down the mountainous slope, but Annatar merely laughed, the vibrations of his joy pulsing through her form, and she closed her eyes again with a blissful grin.
"Fear not, my lady," he said, bending over her that he might press a kiss to her shoulder blade. "Heed not the storm … Only I, only my presence within you … Take me ever deeper inside yourself, Galadriel, and never relinquish me … Ahh … So sweetly you take me … Let me hear your voice cry to the wind—let me hear how I unmake you …"
His hips snapped against hers with such sinful rhythm, and such impossible deepness, stroking hidden places within her body only he could reach. Galadriel abandoned all pretenses of her station and her decorum then, gripping harder at the rocks beneath her, her aching breasts smacking gently against his folded clothing and her voice wailing into the storm with all the maddening pleasure he stirred so perfectly in the deepest depths of her being …
One white hand grasped for her nipple, and she moaned in desperation as Annatar scraped his fingernails over its unbearably sensitive peak, chuckling hot and breathy in her ear. Galadriel arched beneath him, lifting her backside higher against his pelvis, and he hummed in satisfaction at the shift in sensation. In reward, he hefted her differently still—and her mouth gaped as he drove down still deeper and harder, peppering her shoulders and spine with moaning, open-mouthed kisses.
"Annatar …" she whined, scarcely able to draw breath from the strength of her mounting pleasure. "Annatar … Please …"
"And what is it you request of me, my lady?"
He tugged at the tip of her piked ear with his teeth, and she gasped, squirming back against him and rocking along with his hammering cadence. Rain plastered their hot, sweat-slickened bodies together such that she could not have peeled away from him even if she wished so—and she most certainly did not.
"Galadriel," he chastised when she did not respond, unable to form words as he flicked against her clit with incandescent skill so bewitching it was surely forged alongside the birth of the stars in the Beginning.
And then Annatar pulled out of her, removing both his fingers and his cock at once, and she actually cried out in fury, which elicited a low, rugged laugh from his lips.
Thunder boomed all around them as Galadriel whipped around and seized a handful of his sodden hair in her fist, tugging just hard enough that he arched into her touch with a lusty moan that was immediately swallowed by the storm.
Kissing his bared throat, she then hissed into his mouth: "On your knees, my lord, and finish what you have begun."
Annatar smirked, eyes black with greed, and he did as she bade. Galadriel sat back on his clothes, running a brief, admiring hand down his naked body as he took his place on his knees before her, and then moments later both hands thrust into his hair as he sealed his mouth over her throbbing womanhood.
She moaned up into the storm, rain pouring down over her face and her heaving breasts and dripping off their flushed peaks while her administrator thrust his hungry tongue into her innermost parts. And within a few mere minutes of him licking and sucking and savoring the sweet cunt of Galadriel of the Noldor, she wailed into the furious heavens while her thighs shook around his gleaming head.
Annatar granted her no respite. He stood, wiping his mouth, and shoved her back against his robes, belly heaving as he stood over her, bathed both in darkness and light as spears of seething fire flared all around him.
Galadriel spread her legs for him, playing with her nipples and grinning as he growled at the sight, and then he hiked both her legs up around his waist as he slid his twitching cock back inside her. She threw her head back, clutching aimlessly at whatever parts of his body she could reach as he pumped her nearly so hard as he'd done before.
And when he came, he did so with a roar that seemed to shake the very heavens, thunder exploding all around them. Galadriel sprawled limp and adoring beneath him, utterly at his mercy, and he pulled out of her only to watch his seed drip out of her cunt and mix with the pouring rain ere he bent before her again and cleaned her with his tongue.
He brought her to completion once more, then notched himself back inside her with a smaller, softer groan of bliss, his lids lowering as he reached down to play with one pert little breast. Galadriel allowed him to do as he pleased, lolling her arms behind her as though reclined on her bed rather than a rock at the peak towering across the river from the city they nurtured together.
Annatar murmured praises to her in Quenyic verse, as he so loved to do, and leaned down to suckle on each breast before turning his face upwards into the rain again. She watched him with a dreamy smile, jostled gently by his thrusting hips, and sighed his name once more.
"Mm …" he breathed with such softness she could hardly discern his words over the raging of the thunder, slowing himself until he dragged with languid gentleness through her clutching walls and elicited a deep groan from Galadriel. "Does it please you, my lady, to be taken upon the rocks of Gildor like a beast? Does it thrill your heart to imagine all our people gazing upon us from our city below as I claim you, empty myself into you, draw such lovely cries from your throat …? Do you yearn for their awe, to let them witness what only I possess, the perfection of your form, of your light, of your beauty …?
"Would you have me place a crown upon your head, so that all of Middle-earth may worship you as I do …?"
And Annatar came once more inside her, the warmth of his seed blooming deep and full within her, and Galadriel clutched him to her, tangling their tongues as she allowed the rain to wash away all those pretty words she would pretend she had not heard.