#halatariel

The anguish, the panic, the desperation of: “Come back to me. Galadriel. LOOK AT ME!”

Because he knew. He told her this would happen.

“When these people find out what I’ve done they’ll cast me out. And so will you.”

But there is something despairing in him, something that has always yearned for her light, for the light she has professed to see in him. A light he longs to see in himself. 

“Galadriel, look at me. You know who I am.” 

Did he even know? 

Somehow she had muddled it all, every perception he’d had of himself, of what he had been, of who he could be. Every interaction... it wasn’t all politicking, all manipulation; there was hope there—a fool’s hope—wasn’t there? Somehow obscured between the lines of their shared, combatting amalgamation of light and darkness—blurred between the lines of their words, of them, body and soul. 

If he could just bind it to his very being. 

She was out of his reach. A brilliant and blinding and searing light to his darkness, never diminished where they touched, mingled, entangled, but nebulous, a gravity all consuming and devouring. 

She had felt it too. 

Two rings. Two. Bind yourself to me. 

“You bind me to the light and I bind you to power.” 

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