#hellghoul week

Suddenly a light began to appear ahead. Dim, but getting brighter with every step. A clearing. She thought. Almost there. With one final slice of her sword, Galadriel burst into an open space, finding something she did not expect. Something she had never seen before.

Ahead of her was a wall of green. A hedge, with a singular opening in the middle. With her elven eyes she peered deep into it and discovered quickly what lay before her.

A maze.

She had only traded one forest for another.

Then, a soft yet blood curdling laugh echoed in her mind. Galadriel scowled, recognising who it belonged to. “Be gone, Deceiver!” “If you want me gone, Galadriel, you know where to find me.” Sauron’s bodiless voice spoke. “At the centre. Of your mind, your heart. Come to me…” His last words whispered pulled at her like a lure, his hook stuck deep in her flesh. But it did not matter, for they both wanted the same thing.

To face each other.

Galadriel squeezed her hilt and moved onward, breaching the entry of the maze, feeling the atmosphere change instantly. She heard the sounds of vines and branches and leaves behind her, not needing to look back to know that she had just been sealed within.

Only one of us shall make it out alive, Deceiver. Galadriel permeates the words within her head, knowing he will hear her. He responds by pulling at the invisible thread connecting them, and Galadriel senses in which direction to turn.

The sensation brings up many emotions in her, encompassing all that she feels for the one who betrayed her so deeply.

Rage is the strongest, and it is its heat that draws her in, like a moth to a flame and she was begging to be turned to cinders. If it meant putting out the fire for good.

She winds around corner after corner, following the perilous path at her feet. Noises come from the thick brush surrounding her, but they are not just of snapping twig and bristling leaf.

To her horror, Galadriel makes out perfectly with her elven ears, the distinguishable sounds of dark things. Clicking. Scratching. Snarling. Purring. Things seeking her on his behalf no doubt, trained to find her, watch her, and torment her. Fate nipping at the borders of her maze prison.

Yet she remains not rattled by this torturous rattling. In fact, she encourages it, yearning for Sauron’s beasts to burst through the bushes so she could strike them down, warming her up for the duel at hand. What satisfaction it would bring to end the existence of creatures that serve the Dark Lord. Galadriel smirks and waits, slowing her steps but keeping them calculated, her blade ready in fighting stance. A dare.

Though nothing attacks. However the noises continue. Galadriel rounds another corner and is faced with an impasse. The path splitting into two. The dark things go quiet as if to give her time to decide which way to turn.

Both paths look identical, down to the minute detail. It is eerie, false, and concocted by him of course. Only Sauron could craft something that seemed so perfect, a matching illusion to the real world. Perhaps this is the lesson, his game, to decipher which is which.

Galadriel closes her eyes and concentrates, searching for the feeling that lured her in at the beginning. She does not find it. But what she does find is something she did not intend.

A thick black ooze slithers beneath her, ominous and consuming. She cannot help but be startled by it, feeling its intense heat as it moves along her boots, like steamless dark lava. Galadriel attempted to move away, though finding quickly that she was already held in place.

Struggling against it, she waited for the sinister muck to slide up her body and devour her, yet as time passed, it was plain that was not its objective. Galadriel watched as it moved ahead of her, pooling in front of the divide. It began to change form, her elven eyes making out what looked like black worms or tendrils, wriggling and working together to form a new shape. And despite the feeling of fire it gave off, witnessing this obscenity only made her cold.

She began to understand what this was, what it only could be. Refusing to call his name, she simply waited with a steel like glare for him to reveal himself.

His voice was haunted as he spoke to her, ancient and ageless like the world they inhabited, the world he helped to create. “I waited for you, Galadriel. In this helpless state. For thousands of years. Never knowing if I would take the form of a body again. Set deep in a perpetual stupor, contemplating my fate. Waiting for you, the one who would change that.”

“You garner no sympathy from me.” Galadriel uttered in disgust at the faceless dark matter. “And if I had encountered you in this form, it would have been all too easy to snuff you out. To see that you would never return to threaten all that is dear.”

“I seek no sympathy from you. I only offer you truth.” He then slithered across to block one of the paths. A deterrent or an encouragement? She wonders. As Sauron continues, his voice begins to echo around her, shifting into many voices as one, layers of harmonies though he does not sing. “But you are right, Galadriel. I am vulnerable like this, my essence visible to you. You call me The Deceiver but in this form how can I be? There is no facade to lure you, no illusions to blind you. Alone, intangible, unknowable. Rot upon the earth. Proof the first that I needed you. That I needed someone to bring me into the light. To give me form. Give me hope. To heal my disordered spirit as I only wish to heal this world. I have always needed someone at my side, Galadriel. Why should it not be you?”

“Enough of this!” She shouted. “Let me pass or I will pulverise you.” He laughs in her ear, soft yet sinister. “I see that you are not ready. Though I shall leave the choice of which path to take in your capable hands, elf.”

The black ooze begins to fade, and before Galadriel can even contemplate a choice, she dives into it, letting him envelop her completely. The warmth she feels is comforting, pure contentment. A trap? Doubting her peace, she lifts up her sword and slices through the darkness, over and over again. Needing to feel a glimmer of the satisfaction that ending Sauron might give her, contentment she can give herself. Soon, the dark ooze vanishes and the presence of the Deceiver flees, she feels him no longer. Though she trusts that it was not the final duel she was promised.

Scanning her body for any remnants of him, Galadriel spies nothing and moves on quickly ahead, deeper into the maze. The path begins to narrow, the hedges on either side grow thicker as vines begin to wind their way through them, their thorny ropes tangling and twining outward onto the earth at her feet. Was this the right path? She pondered. Could I go back?

Galadriel suddenly felt deep within her however, that there was nothing for her that way. So she pressed on, minding her steps until she saw a light ahead, something that glowed as the moon does in the night sky. Its beams burst through a small gap at the end of the thinning path, a gap she knew she would have to press through, one that would cause her pain. And yet, she had to keep going.

Her sword did nothing to sway the brambles from their sharpness. Any attempt at cutting them down, clearing them, was thwarted as if by some invisible barrier. Galadriel knew the only way out, to the light, was through.

Death by a thousand cuts is it, Sauron?

She tempted him but he did not answer. Instead she steeled herself, taking a breath, then moved onwards towards the pain. This pain was different from that she had felt outside of the maze. There was no ignoring it or casting it off. Galadriel could feel every prick and scratch against her skin as the vines sliced through her presence. She groaned as blood was drawn from her but the sacrifice was necessary. He may have a piece of me, in return for all that he is. Rage once again filled her and pushed her forwards, so far until she burst into the clearing, where her pain began to fade instantly under the glow of the ithildin.

Ithildin. Celebrimbor.

Galadriel’s pain returned, itself taking on a new form, as did someone else, appearing to her now in a loathsome visage.

“Can you read for me the inscription on the stone?” Sauron requested. Tears threatened to spill. “I refuse.” She spat. “But you know what it says. What it means.” “It means that you are a monster!” Galadriel bellowed, sickened at the sight of Annatar, the purported emissary of the valar that tricked Celebrimbor and the people of Eregion. His blonde hair billowed over his shoulders and Galadriel took great offense.

The maia began to pace around the clearing, circling Galadriel slowly like a wolf, though one that is patient. Or perhaps one that liked to toy with its meal. “‘Here is honoured the memory of Lord Celebrimbor.” “Silence!” She protested. “Son of Curufin. Grandson of Fëanor ” “Enough!” “The greatest of all elven smiths, who with the aid of Annatar forged his greatest achievement, the rings of power, before succumbing under the weight of them.” “Stop!” Galadriel screamed, getting to her feet and lunging her sword at Sauron.

He blocked her attack effortlessly, and used a twist of his wrist to remove the blade from her grasp, sending it flying into the maze wall. She went to try and remove it but none of her strength or power could assist in its freedom. With a hiss Galadriel turned back and strode defiantly up to the dark lord, causing him to stop his pacing.

“Celebrimbor did not succumb under any weight! Celebrimbor showed nothing but the truest form of bravery when he went to face you! You who he trusted just as I trusted! You who killed him!” The tears had spilt now, but her rage was increasing. ‘Annatar’ seemed barely moved by any of her words, but he yielded to her all the same. “So you see then that there are truths within the lie? That not everything is an illusion?”

“What?” Galadriel was confused and angry. Why must he torment me so?

“Celebrimbor was of the lineage of Curufin and Fëanor was he not?” “Yes.” “And he was the greatest of elven smiths?” “You know that he was!” “He formed the rings of power with my aid.” “Yes, but their power did not destroy him!” “No. I did.” Sauron was calm as a still sea in his confession.

“You admit it then?” Galadriel practically begged for the confirmation, despite knowing it was true. She only wanted to hear him say it. He simply nodded. “You do not fight me on this fact?” “Why would I when it is the truth, Galadriel? The truth beneath the lie etched into the rock. Look again now at this tombstone. Read to me now what you see with your eyes.”

Galadriel hurried to the front of the stone and let herself be bathed in the ithildin’s light, as if it would mean that Celebrimbor might have returned from the shores of the morning.

She reads aloud, more for herself than for him.

“‘Here is honoured the memory of Lord Celebrimbor. Son of Curufin. Grandson of Fëanor The greatest of all elven smiths, who with the aid of Annatar, forged his greatest achievement, the rings of power. He gave his life in protection of them.’”

He gave his life in protection of them.

She read the final line over and over in her mind, and the image of Celebrimbor appeared within, and their last conversation.

Galadriel felt her tears cascading now, but she kept her eyes closed tight to hold onto her friend, her family.

“But perhaps, the elves need only remember that it is not strength that overcomes darkness, but light.”

It was good to hear his voice again.

“Armies may rise, hearts may fail, yet still, light endures, and it is mightier than strength. For in its presence, all darkness must flee.”

Galadriel felt the ithildin glow brighter before her, and she opened her eyes to take in its beauty, its might. Then, a simple touch upon her shoulder, and a voice at her ear. Though it was not Annatar who spoke.

“Bind me to the light, Galadriel. Make my darkness flee.”

It was Halbrand.

She turned her head fast to face him but he was gone.

And so was the light.

The stone went dim.

Galadriel could not stop the sobs that escaped her, and she fell to the earth clutching herself for it was all she had to hold on to.

*****

She had not meant to fall into slumber, but her grief caused her energy to expire. There was nothing else to do but sleep. Turning over, she gazed up at the night sky. Not much time had passed given the stars still shone overhead. Galadriel stared at them and waited for her numbness to abate, her body, her spirit still feeling the expulsion of her sorrows.

The howling of a wolf startled her.

Then a sickening feeling forced her to her feet. Galadriel had been haunted by wolves since the death of her brother. Knowing how he died and where. Yet she knew not all of them were foul creatures. Huan, the wolfhound of Valinor, was one particular exception. Galadriel could still feel his soft fur under her skin, see his kind eyes inside her mind. But now the one wolf that had played such a role in Finrod’s demise had made himself known. The one wolf whose maw and claws had ripped apart her very being. Sauron had defined so much of her existence, but she was not to let that ruin her chances of taking him down.

Galadriel would define his existence instead.

He howled again, the sound closer this time, and sure enough, the elf soon heard the rushing of wolf steps, and Sauron appeared in the clearing, black and monstrous, wearing a snarl. He barked at her repeatedly, slowly closing in on her position. Galadriel went for her sword but was quickly reminded of its frozen state in the maze wall. Opposite Sauron.

He’s not going to kill me. She told herself. Not like this. I can reach my weapon.

Oh but it would be so poetic, wouldn’t it, Galadriel? Sauron spoke in her mind, spying on her thoughts. To ruin you with these teeth? To tear at your pale skin with these claws? The very same that tore at your brother?

I thought you were trying to get me on your side, Deceiver! Or was that all a lie as well?

Sauron snickered. If you thought any of that was a lie then you clearly have not been paying attention.

The wolf sprung for her across the clearing, and Galadriel sprinted out of his path, narrowly avoiding contact. She reached her sword and with adrenaline behind her, pulled it swiftly from its wooden jail. Though instead of turning to face and strike, she ran on down the untrodden path. Speed had to be her ally now. Any ceased motions would give Sauron an advantage she did not wish him to receive. She had her blade now, and as soon as the opportunity presented itself, she would not hesitate.

You, fleeing from me, Galadriel? How uncharacteristic of you. Sauron taunted. Though, I shall admit, I should have done this a long time ago. Running through the paths of Eregion, perhaps? The rush is simply exquisite. Mmmm, yes that would have been delectable. Hunting you down, forcing you to join me. Pinning you to the earth until you said ‘yes’.

Galadriel chose to ignore his awful words and the strange pang of longing building up inside of her. She kept her head up and straight, her feet moving fast. Concentrating on her breathing, on the obstacles ahead of her, not behind. The future, not the past. An odd sense of clarity washed over her spirit then and she found peace in her sprint. A certainty that she would make it through this. That it would all soon be over. This would be the last time she would face Sauron.

So when she reached another divide in the maze path and hesitated for the smallest of moments, Galadriel smiled as Sauron caught up to her and pounced, sending her into the ground at the beginning of the left path. Making her choice for her? Or was chaos at hand? Knowing Sauron as well as she did, she knew it could be either.

“Please. You think too much of me.” He had told her once when she claimed all was his design. He was capable of grand schemes, yes, but he was also capable of manipulating chance. Of seizing an opportunity and forging it to his will. Fitting it to his design. Like he had done with her, always.

Just as she predicted, Sauron did not kill her. Instead he pinned her as he desired, his four legs astride her body, his dripping maw inches from her face. Looking into his eyes, Galadriel became confused. What laid within them did not match the wolven exterior, nor his threats of violence or domination.

The truth within the lie…

Her peace began to fade, replaced with all too familiar sorrow. Losing herself in those mossy mournful irises, all she could do in that moment was reach up a tender hand and stroke the wolf’s face. She didn’t see the beast that killed Finrod. Not even his low growl could shake off her touch. Though she wasn’t seeing what Sauron wanted her to see either.

She was seeing what she needed to see.

Her confusion fled. As did the facade of the wolf. Sauron ran off ahead of her, down the misty path. Was he entreating her to follow? Or had he simply been caught out in a vulnerable moment?

It could be either.

Rising, Galadriel picked up her sword and sheathed it, moving down and into the mist. It was chilling, and soon her breathing became visible but only for a moment as it disappeared into her cold surroundings. Galadriel had not felt cold like this since she crossed the Helcaraxë. The further along she moved, she started to notice the hedges had frozen. Covered in ice and snow, but looking battered and desolate. The leaves had all but drifted away. The icicles on the branches all pointed behind her, looking like they had been formed in the wake of some massive power surge.

Holding onto herself and what little warmth remained, Galadriel saw something ahead in the centre of the mist, but she could not make it out. Though to discern it was not to know it. For it was already clear to her. The mist began to dissipate, revealing an icy waste. A dead, cold land that was familiar yet foreign. It saddened her to see it this way.

“Perhaps you should choose a different path, elf. Other than killing me.”

Something else that was familiar yet foreign haunted this space. It had been so long since all that time they had spent together, he was almost a stranger. Or perhaps, just an old friend.

“Halbrand?” She uttered, hopeful like a fool.

“This is an unfortunate consequence of my power. My defiance. You dare to break my body?” He chuckles, “Then I shall break the world.”

Galadriel looked around at the devastation before her, the ruin that was this clearing. All ice and bent wood, scattered rock and dry leaf. All stretching out from one location. She watched in silent horror, as Halbrand became fully visible to her. But he was not as she remembered him. He was like a ghost before her eyes. Pallid. Void of warmth, of life. Containing almost nothing of the man she befriended.

Because he never was a man. She attempted to remind herself. But she couldn’t help but gaze into his eyes, holding onto the one thing present of him she could.

“No… I was never a man, was I? But being around you, Galadriel, I began to believe I could be. You pushed me to great heights, remember? You did that. And now… you can do it again, if you so seek to. Save me from this cold death. From the nothingness of my destruction. I ask you again, Galadriel.” He spoke, slowly stepping towards her. “Bind me to the light.”

He reached out for her, but she caught herself before she could take his hand. Frustration and anger rose to the surface, and she turned away from him, seething. “You mean to trick me, again!” “It is not a trick. Not this time. I know you sense that, stop fighting it.” “I came here to fight, Sauron! Not to be played like the harp you once carried at your side!” She yelled, facing him so he could see her rage. “At my side you were in full control, elf. All you sought I gave to you because you made it so easy! Remember the good we achieved?” “Failing to stop Adar, destroying the Southlands? Forging the rings?” Nenya prickled her skin. Always listening. “Rings that saved your kind. That healed your tree, your lands.” “And how do I know that you weren’t behind the blight in the first place? Your influence so clearly left the dwarves with no choice but to need a ring!” “True creation requires sacrifice, Galadriel!” He was sounding so earnest it was borderline pathetic to her. But he was not backing down. So determined, so defiant, willing to prove himself right at all costs.

“The rings of power… they are meant to heal Middle-earth. Truly. I only wish Celebrimbor was still here to see their success.” “Why did you destroy him then?” “There was… no other way… he put himself on that path. All I could do was follow.” “Then are you saying that if I had stayed with you long enough… you might have killed me too?” “To spare you of your madness, yes. To bring the world some peace, yes.”

Galadriel was crying now. “Do you speak truthfully? You have said you do not wish to harm me. I know… I know that you care for me. It is as clear as the bluest of skies. Please… tell me the truth.” As she wiped her cheek she already knew the answer. She only needed him to say it.

“Yes, Galadriel. I would kill you if I had to. And it would give me no pleasure.”

She started to laugh. Only that sound, and that feeling would quell the madness she felt rising in her now. It was the only thing that made sense. Halbrand did not move, nor did he speak. He simply stood in his chilling manner, waiting patiently for the elf to gather herself.

“The truth is not the ally you think it is, Sauron.” “Do not call me that.” “But it is who you are. Or part of who you are at least! There are many lies and truths contained within you, and I see all of what you have been trying to show me this night. That not all of it is a lie. Not all of what you did or do is an illusion. That somehow, inside of you, is the real you. One who only wishes to do things for the betterment of this world. One that seeks to foster perfect order. One that wishes he does not want to hurt me. However, I have a truth for you, so hear it.

“You killed my brother. You helped to unmake this world with Morgoth. You saw to the devastation of many peoples and their lands. You played a part in the tragedy of Middle-earth. You… you broke my heart, in all the ways in which a heart can be broken.”

There was a silence between them. And an understanding. As everything sank in like blood in the earth. Both of them spoke honestly. Their words real and carrying much weight. But the scales would not balance. There was too much misery and destruction and violence and betrayal tangled up between them. Their paths to each other were labyrinthine, so akin to the maze they found themselves in. A maze they still found each other in, yet his darkness and her light would never meet.

“I am the tragedy of Middle-earth.” He spoke, defeated. “I have fallen too far from Eru’s light. So far that no matter what I do… the world only sees my lies. They can no longer see my truth. But… you do. And if I live to see the breaking of the world knowing that only Galadriel sees me… then I will accept my fate with peace. In hopes of… starting anew.”

Galadriel was overcome with unabating sorrow. She mourned for him, what he could have been, what they could have been together. Walking slowly towards him, she knew now what she had to do. The elf placed her hands upon his haunted face, then pulled him down and into a tender kiss. She was surprised to find that warmth was restored between them immediately. His lips were not cold against hers, in fact they were soft and perfect and exactly how they should feel. He breathed in desperation against her between touches, and their kiss blossomed into the true manifestation of their desires. Their hopes for each other on display with every sweet caress of their mouths.

Around them the environment began to change. Life was in the air, and dawn was upon them with the stars overhead beginning to dwindle. The ice, removed of its harshness, dampened the ground softly as it melted. The wind swept in, bringing all the leaves back to their rightful home on their branches. The scent of lilies and gardenias permeated the air. Everything was fresh and vibrant and whole again.

When their lips did part, Galadriel almost didn’t want to open her eyes. She sensed her surroundings but doubted their existence. “Oh, Galadriel…” Halbrand laughed, his voice full of joy. She had no choice but to open her eyes now. Seeing his face, his smile, it made her heart so full. Then she took in what lay around them. It had become the most beautiful of gardens, and reminded her keenly of Lindon, after the tree was restored by the rings.

Though what surprised her the most was Halbrand himself. Looking now only like what he once did. A spark in his eye, colour in his cheeks, humour in his step. Everything she wanted him to be. He held tight to her as he surveyed the consequence of their kiss, and she watched him revel in it all.

Sorrow nipped at the edge of her mind.

He kissed her again, quickly yet sweetly. “This is only the beginning! You and I… you must stay with me, Galadriel. Here is the proof of our binding. The light you have given me. I am restored! The land is restored! Let us continue—”

He stopped as her sword dove straight through his chest. Halbrand looked down at his wound, then back at her who would strike him down. Like she always intended. But like him, she would gain no pleasure from it.

“I am sorry…” She heard herself say, a witness now to her own actions. “You know why…”

Halbrand fell to the ground, and Galadriel gladly went with him, wanting to cradle him in his final moments, secretly hoping the blast of his demise might take her out as well.

He started shaking, blood dripping from his lip. Galadriel wept and kissed him anyway, tasting copper and feeling even more bitter for it. Halbrand smiled against her mouth. “At least… at least it was real.” He uttered between coughs. She nodded, struggling to smile back at him. “And now.. now I will.. start… a… a…”

He could not finish his last words.

Galadriel’s body shakes with grief and no regret. Only a wish that things could have been different. Instead, the one they called Sauron is no more. But the one she called Halbrand will live within her heart.

She waits for the sonic boom of his spirit disintegrating, but to her incredible surprise, it does not come. Instead she watches as her tears softly land on his face, the colour that had only recently returned there now fleeing, leaving him even worse than she found him. Hollow cheeks, flesh deathly pale. Even the clothes he was adorned in began to fray at the edges and seams. It is a silent death, not meant as an act of revenge upon those that might take him down. This is intimate. Private. Meant for Galadriel only.

Blinking her tears, she noticed Halbrand was beginning to fade away. “No, no, no, no…” Galadriel could not help but call out, reaching for him in a futile effort to see him return to her. Could she not ask as part of her sacrifice in killing him, that she keep his body and bury it where she can always visit? Were she not allowed such a gift? Perhaps if he was truly the man she once believed he was, then he would receive the gift of men, and she the gift of his tomb.

Instead, Galadriel watched as her love became a spectre, and in the blink of an eye, an empty space. A void in her grasp. Her sword struck the ground with a heavy thud, the music of finality. Then something different struck her. Everything was still so… warm. The sunrise was above the horizon now, causing this beautiful garden to glow as if it were a treasure. It was bathed in all consuming light. This was no icy waste, no barren plain, no dark and desolate ruined land.

Galadriel smiled.

The darkness fled from the light.

Their binding had not been temporary, had not been undone by her blade. Halbrand was one with the light now, one with her. His death was not meant to be a sad and destructive thing. It was meant to restore hope. The final thing that he could give to this world. A vision of lasting peace for all Middle-earth.

His truth.

*****

Endless time had now passed, and Galadriel was ready at last to leave these shores. To heed the call to the undying lands that she had delayed for so very long.

But first, one final visit must be paid.

Walking slowly but with purpose through the woods of Lothlorien, her queendom, Galadriel felt Nenya stir as the entrance came into view.

It was funny now to think of the maze as a once monstrous place, filled with twisted and dark things, for so long now it had been a place of serenity and wonder. Giving her and her people nothing but joy. Young elves ran through it, older elves tended to its every brush and branch. She never told anyone what it did for her. That was a truth kept for only them. No one need know what really happened that night. Knowing or not knowing was not going to change anything. All that need be known was the smallest of truths: Sauron was defeated, taken down by Galadriel’s sword.

The Lady of Lothlórien was allowed one secret.

Funny, she thought as she wandered on through the maze, down the path once travelled. Now I am the Deceiver.

The further in she moved, the familiar feeling she had held during her first visit here those many years ago came back. As it did every time she let herself be surrounded by the hedge walls. That sense of a certain being close by, growing stronger the deeper she got. Galadriel closed her eyes a moment, and it was as if no time had passed at all.

As if she were still pursuing her foe, her enemy, her love.

As if he were still within her grasp. Her embrace.

She reached the centre of the maze, that most beautiful and bountiful of gardens. Colourful butterflies flutter about, honey bees buzzed their song of nectar. This precious space continued to flourish year after year, never waning, never fading.

Moving near the centre, stepping carefully over a gathering of hyacinths and begonias, hidden beneath the thicket Galadriel found what she had come to seek.

A small stone sat in the earth, etched in an old language few left in this world understood:

For the memory of Mairon. Halbrand. He found the light once more. And I felt it too.

Galadriel shed no tears as she prepared to say her farewells to the one she did not get the chance to love. She sat down and let the sun, the light, envelop her. Taking a deep breath, the scent of fire and forge filled her nostrils and she smiled.

“I’m so glad you stayed, Halbrand.” She spoke to a silent companion. “After all this time. I hope you continue to remain here until the world's fateful end. For the time has come when I cannot. I’m ready to take the final journey. I never thought I would be ready. But it feels right. Time. I have joined you in peace. And I know you would want me to go. I do not wish to linger and lay here with you until the greenery consumes me. I shall go to the shores of the morning. I shall see Celebrimbor again. And you will be with me, in some small form anyway. Bound to my light. Light that will never dim.”

The wind brushed past her shoulder, causing her hair to billow. As if in response to her words. It was a bittersweet thing. A being such as he could regain their form or amass their power once more. Though it seemed that still after all this time, Halbrand understood why Galadriel did what she did. He had to remain formless, powerless, if he intended to remain in the light. And if he loved her as she knew he did, he could not undo her will, nor her bravery to sacrifice him for the greater good. Air caressed the back of her neck, now exposed, and Galadriel hummed, leaning into the softness.

She laid there a while, listening to the mingling sounds of the wind and her breathing. Allowing her body to fall into slumber, Galadriel dreamed of that time long ago.

Written for Day 5 of @hellghoulweek - Grave