#artania

Friends of the Dwarves they were too, and trade between the two peoples was peaceful and friendly. Yet, the shadow of the Dark Lord weighed heavy even on the smith-Elven people, and they feared the return of Sauron. They all feared him, but so much time had passed that Sauron was becoming a long-forgotten memory.

Because the whispers said that Sauron had been defeated, or simply disappeared from all of Middle-earth. But the malice and cruelty of Morgoth's servant continued to contaminate the whole land, all the air, as if not even with his departure could his evil abandon Middle-earth.

In Eregion, however, the Elves found a small refuge from the Orcs that Sauron had brought, who had spread throughout Arda without the Master's steady hand. But Galadriel was as impulsive as they, and she would not give up until she was able to find the last trace of Sauron.

This was her burden, was it not? For when Galadriel departed Valinor with the Noldor, she knew that eternal sorrow and bitterness awaited them in Middle-earth, but freedom as well. The price, in the end, was not worth the freedom, and the losses were countless.

The most brutal of them all, the death of Finrod. Because Galadriel could not forgive herself, she did not want to forgive herself. She could not forgive herself until Sauron was destroyed, until he paid for all he had taken from her.

And he had taken much from her. Finrod had not been the only one Galadriel had lost, and when darkness filled the sky, and only the stars could warm Galadriel's breast, she remembered the happier times in Middle-earth.

Times when she had known Celeborn, and loved him deeply, only to lose him to war as well. Never to be able to see her own husband again, to live consumed by the doubt of whether he was still alive, or if she could still find him before she left for the Halls of Mandos.

These were the thoughts that drove Galadriel, year after year, age after age, in the endless hunt against Sauron. But the tracks proved nothing, and Galadriel began to doubt her own thoughts, her own memories.

And she felt so alone, because even her own company had challenged her, the very Elves of Lindon no longer trusted her, and this hurt Galadriel deeply. How could she bear to live in Valinor again, surrounded by beauty and peace, when so many others suffered in Middle-earth?

Elrond, Galadriel thought, was wrong. For she would never lay down her sword, not while Sauron lived, not while Sauron was the poison that contaminated all Middle-earth. This war was not over yet, perhaps it never would be.

So Galadriel fled. Honestly, she was not a prisoner, of course, but that was how she felt when she jumped out of the boat, because she did not feel worthy of that honor, that blessing forged with the blood and suffering of so many Elves.

All that was left for Galadriel was to keep swimming, always moving forward. And she did, she did not know when to stop. She was certain of this when she found the survivors of a shipwreck. Lost, just like her.

Yet, not all of them were lost, not like her. For she was the one who was an outcast among them, an outsider. A lonely, companionless Elf. Like Halbrand, who had lost many things to the Orcs, to the Dark Lord, she supposed.

Halbrand, Galadriel thought, was her chance. Because with the help of Halbrand, the last living person to know the Enemy's plans, she could finally find Sauron and free all beings in Arda from his evil influence.

Galadriel, however, never imagined that she was on the side of true evil, the most dangerous being that walked freely in Arda. And so, she accompanied Halbrand, finding a companion, when she believed she was completely alone. Halbrand, was like a long-lost friend.

He understood her ambition, her deepest, darkest desires, he even encouraged them. For Galadriel, that was enough, because together, they could defeat Sauron. But in the end, they could not. Because Sauron's rule took new forms, and so did the Orcs' master.

And Galadriel, alone and unaware, believed Halbrand's words, Sauron's words. She fought alongside him, against Adar, against the Orcs, against their enemies. But were they really enemies? Adar was right, the desire for revenge was blinding Galadriel.

It would be a long time before she understood Adar's words, until she believed that there was a life beyond this one, beyond the endless hunt against the second Dark Lord.

It was when the Orcs wounded Halbrand, not that she yet understood how they had managed to wound Halbrand while the volcano was collapsing, that she swallowed her pride and knew it was time to meet Gil-galad in person.

Riding endlessly, without pause or rest, Galadriel took Halbrand to Eregion, to the safety and protection of the Elven healers. She was surprised, honestly, she was embarrassed as she gazed upon Elrond. How could she begin to explain all that had happened?

She felt so much shame, so much guilt, that only Elrond could understand what she was feeling, or she had thought so, after so many ages alone, far from her husband, a husband who was lost, who knows, forever.

Elrond soothed Galadriel and begged her to stay in Eregion, at least while Halbrand recovered, but time was running out and the Elves were not safe. The defeat of the Elves was approaching and they would have to leave, to Valinor, to home, once more. And Galadriel could not bear it.

In Eregion, when the sun shone and Elves and their families walked smiling through the realm of Lord Celebrimbor, the birds sang beautiful melodies, melodies of ancient days and the Undying Lands. Songs that still held sway in Galadriel's heart.

In silence, she walked, observing the elven families, she almost felt envious of them, because she felt so alone. Lost in thought, she did not notice an Elf walking towards her.

All Galadriel noticed was the sea of parchment before her feet, as one of Celebrimbor's apprentices apologized. Confused, Galadriel watched her. Surely she did not know this apprentice, Galadriel was sure she would remember her.

“I was distracted,” Galadriel said. “I apologize.”

With a slight smile, a smile that had not come over Galadriel in a long time, she helped the young elf gather the scrolls from the floor. Her face was dirty, Galadriel noticed. She must be in the forge with Elrond and the others.

“Lord Celebrimbor asked me to come looking for you,” Mirdania said, still flustered. “This is not how I expected to meet you.”

“What do you mean?” Galadriel asked, raising her eyebrows.

“Well, you are a legend,” Mirdania said, smiling. “The Commander of High King Gil-galad’s Northern Armies, I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”

“I believe I need to know your name first, do not I?”

“Oh, of course.” Mirdania nearly dropped the scrolls again. “Mirdania.”

“Mirdania.” Galadriel said, with a sincere smile.

Mirdania smiled at her, before walking away, always dropping some of the scrolls along the way. Galadriel did not remember meeting Mirdania before, the Elven memory was too good for her to have forgotten one of Celebrimbor's apprentices.

But that would not be the last meeting between them. Because as Galadriel walked to the forge, watching Halbrand and Celebrimbor talking, so close, so reserved, she felt a persistent gaze on her. As if from a distance, someone was watching her.

Of course she was watching, how had she been so slow to notice? Alongside the other smiths, Mirdania was looking at Galadriel, even as Halbrand tried to get her attention, she did not even pay attention to the King of the Southlands. All of Mirdania's attention belonged to Galadriel.

For long weeks they stood side by side at the forge, while Halbrand had not recovered and Celebrimbor was eager for advice from the mortal. But Galadriel's concern was still there, for something did not seem right.

She had been right, after all. When Halbrand’s name had not been listed in the lineage of the last family in the Southlands, she had known that she had been deceived all along. That Sauron had taken advantage of her, that he had deceived her. That he had trapped her in his web of lies, as he had done with so many others.

She had known this when Elrond had saved her, when all she could see was water and she could not breathe on her own. Yet, Galadriel could not bring herself to speak of what had happened, to speak of how Sauron had revealed himself to her.

All that mattered was finishing the Three, even if to do so, Galadriel needed to say goodbye to the last memory of Finrod, the sacrifice would have to be worth it, she needed to fix what had broken.

Alone in Celebrimbor's forge, Galadriel watched the flames. The Three were ready, but everything felt so wrong. Because Elrond no longer trusted her, somehow he had become suspicious of Halbrand as well, and seemed even more hurt with Galadriel for not being honest with him.

A single tear ran down Galadriel's face as she heard footsteps approaching the forge. Quickly, Galadriel wiped away the tear, staring at the approaching visitor.

She sighed in relief, realizing it was only Mirdania. The apprentice smiled at Galadriel, removing the smiths' apron as she approached her. She already knew about Halbrand, Galadriel thought, as she noticed Mirdania's gentle smile. No, she could not know, otherwise she would not trust Galadriel either, just as Elrond no longer did.

“We have all been worried about you, Lady Galadriel,” Mirdania said.

“We need not be so formal,” Galadriel murmured. “And I doubt very much that the others share your concern.”

“How could they not?” Mirdania said, astonished.

She walked over to Galadriel, sitting down beside the smiths’ bench. Galadriel, Mirdania thought, looked hurt about something, but she would not ask, she would not be intrusive. Not with Galadriel, never. But she could keep her company.

“Lord Celebrimbor nearly snapped moments later, recounting your condition when you returned to the forge.”

Against her will, Galadriel laughed, remembering Celebrimbor's startled look. Perhaps running wet to the forge had not been the wisest or most intelligent idea, Galadriel realized that now. But she needed to be sure that Sauron was not there to influence anyone else.

“It was my fault.”

“Was it?” Mirdania asked. “What could have been your fault?”

How could Galadriel be honest with her, when Mirdania looked at her with such admiration and wonder? Galadriel, however, did not feel worthy of such adoration. She had made a terrible mistake, a mistake she would not forgive, so how could she forgive herself?

“It does not matter.” Galadriel murmured.

“Well, we’re not angry with you,” Mirdania said, touching Galadriel’s hand. “On the contrary.”

“What is this supposed to mean, Mirdania?” Galadriel asked, feeling Mirdania’s gentle touch on her hand.

“Well, whatever you did,” Mirdania said. “We know you only meant well. Do not you?”

But it was not true, was it? Because if Mirdania was right, if Galadriel was not to blame for Sauron's return, why did she still feel the heaviness in her heart, as if evil must be eating away at her spirit?

Then she understood. What she felt was guilt, but not guilt because she had been Sauron's partner, because it was not true. But guilt because she had not been honest with Elrond, or with the High King. But Galadriel felt so ashamed, how could she confess what she knew?

She could not. She would not accept the rejection in their eyes when they learned the truth, not when Elrond already looked so hurt, so wary of her. Sauron, Galadriel thought, was truly the Great Deceiver. Even without words or whispers, he was already making Galadriel doubt the loyalty of Elrond, the one she trusted most in all of Arda.

And if Mirdania could believe that Galadriel was good, that she had not helped Sauron with intent, with true evil, perhaps Elrond could also see the truth.

Mirdania looked patiently at Galadriel, letting her think on her own, letting her mind deal with whatever was bothering her deeply. Mirdania, honestly, was nervous. She had never been around Galadriel for so long, much less alone with her.

It was funny, Mirdania thought, how she looked so silly next to Galadriel, because she wanted for once, Galadriel to notice that she was there, that she deserved to be seen by Galadriel.

The same way Mirdania saw Galadriel. Perhaps only she could see Galadriel's true side now, noticing how small tears ran down Galadriel's face. Mirdania had noticed the Mortal King's departure, but she did not care about him.

In fact, she had not even spoken to him the entire time he had been in Eregion. And whether he had disappeared, or done something to hurt Galadriel, Mirdania was sure she would be happy if she never had to see Halbrand's face again.

“Thank you, Mirdania,” Galadriel said, breaking the peaceful silence that had taken over the forge.

“You do not need to thank me, of course.”

As Mirdania smiled, she felt Galadriel caress their clasped hands. It could be nothing, Mirdania thought, just a small gesture of thanks, a completely normal thing between friends. Friends touched each other, right? It was no big deal, she finally decided.

Only that was not quite true, because Mirdania could feel a heat building in her chest as she was grateful for the flames burning in the forge, or Galadriel would notice the blush that Mirdania knew had come over her face.

“But will you allow it?” Galadriel asked.

“Allow what?” Confused, Mirdania asked, staring at Galadriel.

“May I be grateful.”

Even though she did not fully understand the meaning behind those words, Mirdania knew that she could trust Galadriel, more than any Elf, save Celebrimbor, in all of Middle-earth.

She nodded, with a small smile, but still not understanding. The gentle touch of Galadriel's hand left Mirdania's as she moved her hand up Mirdania's arm, gently.

The touch was light, delicate, almost feather-light, and Mirdania felt goosebumps rise up her body, but she remained silent, just watching Galadriel. Then Galadriel's hand reached Mirdania's face, and she stroked it gently.

It was a good, gentle touch, a touch that felt so right. Mirdania, without realizing it, closed her eyes. Galadriel smiled softly, bringing her face closer to Mirdania's. And all Mirdania could feel was the warm touch of Galadriel's lips against hers.

Softer than the purest silk of Valinor, and Mirdania was too enchanted to think, to do anything but kiss Galadriel back. Like everything else about Galadriel, the kiss was firm, determined, as the Commander's tongue took control of Mirdania's mouth.

Galadriel did not let go of Mirdania's face, bringing her free hand to Mirdania's hair, pulling it hard, causing Mirdania to moan. Which only intensified the kiss, as Galadriel's body was so close to Mirdania's, it was as if they were one.

But Mirdania did not care, wrapping her hands around Galadriel's waist, pulling her body even closer, so that there was no space between them, if that were possible.

Mirdania continued to pull Galadriel's body, until her was lying down and all she could see was Galadriel above her, her lips never parting, never pulling away. Galadriel's golden locks fell against Mirdania's face like golden flakes.

And as Galadriel pulled harder on Mirdania's hair, she wrapped her legs around Galadriel's waist, panting against her lips. All Eregion could be in ruins, and they would not be able to notice.

Because Mirdania's dress was riding up slightly as Galadriel kissed her passionately. Mirdania gasped, tugging at Galadriel's dress, because she could not keep her hands still, not while Galadriel moaned her name softly. And when Galadriel's leg rubbed against hers, Mirdania feared her moans would become too loud.

After all, any of the blacksmiths could come in at any moment, they probably would, to check how the Rings were, but in that second, while Galadriel's kisses went down Mirdania's neck, she did not worry about anything else, besides returning the kiss with even more desire.

Like a golden cloud, Mirdania's hair was spread out, and Galadriel's hair covered Mirdania's face. Never did Mirdania think she would have a sincere moment alone with Galadriel. She never thought they could be anything more.

Galadriel's kisses grew lighter, and she sighed, breaking the kiss. A gentle glow came over Galadriel's face as she smiled at Mirdania appreciatively. Galadriel's hands touched Mirdania's face.

“Will you visit me later?” Galadriel whispered against Mirdania’s lips.

“How could I not?” Mirdania sighed in response.

And as the fire of the forge reflected against Galadriel's golden curls, giving her a divine glow, as if all the light of Valinor belonged to her and no one else, Mirdania knew that she would not leave Galadriel's side so easily.

Dedicated to my dear friend and Artania supporter!! @valar-did-me-wrong  💕