#human haladriel

It's often easiest to outmanoeuvre them (Human!Halbrand/Galadriel Oneshot)

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Summary: Halbrand reluctantly watches on as Galadriel teaches the Númenórean soldiers how to correctly slay orcs. The display of her skills and commandeering attitude leaves him wanting and fighting against the lust that’s brewing inside him.

Following their argument by the forge, he finds himself stomping to her chambers that night, eager to give her a piece of his mind.

It doesn’t end in the way he imagined it would.

The Heat & the Pulsing Rush (Human!Halbrand/Galadriel multi-chapter fic)

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Summary: “There is the heat of Love, the pulsing rush of Longing, the lover’s whisper, irresistible — magic to make the sanest man go mad.” — Homer.

A Man and an Elf; an unlikely pairing that brings with it judgemental eyes and inevitable tragedy. Galadriel knows this, and even still she cannot resist the cosmic bond she shares with Halbrand of the Southlands, the human with a mysterious past who saved her life. Nor can Halbrand resist the connection he shares with this unruly Elf. They are alone, cast out for their past actions, and tempted by both desire and darkness that consumes them. In her, he sees an opportunity for redemption and in him, she finds an unlikely sense of belonging.

While evil forces work in the shadows to destroy that which they hold dear in Middle Earth, will their bond lead to salvation or result in their doom?

Chapter 1: Don't Bury My Ashes Far From Yours

Chapter 2: Let Fire Soothe Them Quickly

Chapter 3: Be Strong, Saith my Heart

Chapter 4: Man Who Hides One Thing in his Heart and Speaks Another

Chapter 5: The Rising, Blazing Sun

Chapter 6: It is His Own Courage That Kills Him

Chapter 7: I am a Soldier

Chapter 8: I Have Seen Worse Sights Than This

Chapter 9: But Listen to Me First

His own tent was well decorated given the circumstances — tables were littered with plenty of candles and some hung from the support beans above his head, a jug of fresh water and a chalice sat by his bedside, and a number of fresh-smelling herbs and flowers were littered about to add to comforting the atmosphere.

It was when he managed to shrug off the last of his chest-piece that he could get a better look at his wound. The material of his tunic was stained red but it didn’t look overly deep and a small feeling of relief washed through him. With a heavy sign he sat down on the bed and called out to Bronwyn. “You can come in now.”

Upon hearing her King’s command, Bronwyn entered the tent, pulling the flap back before shutting it after her. She looked worn out and Halbrand couldn’t blame her in the slightest, not after everything that had happened.

“Please,” she began, approaching his bedside with a number of salves, liquids, and bandages in hand, as well as a small bowl of water. “Lay back on the bed so that I can examine you, My Lord.”

He did as he was told, but offered a simple reply. “Halbrand.”

“Excuse me?”

“You can just call me Halbrand,” he elaborated as he clambered on to the cot. “I fear I’m not used to the titles that come with my position.”

“Perhaps you just need time to get used to them,” she offered with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. She then nodded to his stomach as she set down her supplies. “Do you mind?”

“Go ahead. I don’t make a habit of arguing with healers.”

With his permission, she lifted up the bottom of his tunic and took a long look at his injury. “Well, upon first sight it doesn’t look very bad. If it remains uninfected you should heal in due time. For now I’ll clean it and bandage it so that you might rest easily.”

“Thank you,” he said gruffly as she pulled up a chair to sit next to him. “But are you sure there aren’t others who might need your help more than me?”

“The well-being of our king is important. We’ve only just found you, so we have no intention of letting you go just yet.”

Halbrand bit his tongue despite the urge to fight her on it. He merely let her work, already knowing that Bronwyn was not the type to buckle under his insistence. After all, she was the healer and she knew better than him. He wondered would she so readily treat him if she knew who he really was. 

Instead he pushed away those thoughts and allowed himself to ask what he’d been wondering since he arrived. “Where is the Commander?”

“Lady Galadriel?” Bronwyn briefly looked up to meet his concerned gaze. She was watching him in a way he couldn’t discern but offered him a slight shake of her head. “We’ve heard no word of her yet, My Lord.”

His brow furrowed and he tried to still his heart beating in his chest. While it seemed natural for his mind to wander to hopeless thoughts, he tried to remind himself that if he — a useless mortal Man — could survive the eruption, then surely Galadriel could too.

“I wouldn’t worry,” Bronwyn said, now focused on his injury again and working away. “I’m sure the Commander will be fine. Arondir has told me that she is known for her prowess and skill in battle. She will turn up eventually.”

“I hope so. Arondir… He’s the Elf from your village?”

A small smile pulled at the corner of her lips. “Yes, he is.”

Halbrand might have found her previous expression difficult to understand, but this one he recognised immediately. He assumed from the brief time he had seen them interact in the village that perhaps something was going on between them. Her smile simply confirmed his suspicions.

“What of your son?” he asked. “I don’t know his name but I saw him with you in Tirharad.”

“Theo,” she replied but her smile had disappeared now. “We… I’ve not seen him since…”

Halbrand spoke before he could stop himself. Bronwyn had offered him some small comfort when he showed distress at Galadriel’s whereabouts, so it seemed only fair that he would offer some in return. “He’ll be alright. From what I have heard, survivors are arriving at this camp nearly every hour. I’m sure he’ll be amongst them.”

“Of course, Lord Halbrand.”

Sensing that she wished to say nothing else on the matter, he lay back on the bed and let his eyes stare up at the roof of the tent while she finished her work. They had little healing supplies but Bronwyn still did her best regardless. Once it was washed and dressed with a clean bandage, she left him to rest and Halbrand fell into a deep sleep.

o O o

The King of the Southlands awoke suddenly with a start.

The burning in his side flared harshly and he let out a rough groan. In his exhausted state his mind reeled with confusion as he placed a hand on his side and met a soaked bandage. He let out another moan that seemed to grab the attention of the Númenórean soldier posted outside his tent. “Lord Halbrand?”

Something didn’t feel right and his head was swimming. His vision blurred, his eyes not knowing where to look.

“Fetch Bronwyn,” he managed to get out through gritted teeth. “Now.”

He blinked and suddenly Bronwyn was standing over him with Arondir by her side. She took one look at his wound before she turned to gape at her companion.

He wasn’t sure whether it was his half-asleep state or the wound, but his heart began to pound and he began to panic a little. The fogginess in his mind was making matters worse.

Uncertain as to how long he’d been asleep, he moved to sit up. “Where’s Galadriel?”

A great urgency to find her overwhelmed him, his panic rising with each quickening breath. He suddenly felt two sets of hands on his chest but he was already swinging his legs over the side of the cot.

“Lord Halbrand—”

“Where is she?”

Arondir spoke to him now, holding him steady. “We do not know where the Commander is—”

Halbrand made a very confused attempt at pushing his hands away. “Then I must find her!”

“The only thing you must do right now is rest!”

“No,” he insisted weakly, grasping the Elf’s wrist. “Please. Why is no one looking for her?”

What if I die? What if this wound kills me? What if I leave this world before I can talk to her again? Before I can make things right in the Southlands? Before I can repair what I did?

Bronwyn was the one to speak now as her companion kept him firmly in his seat. “We are, Lord Halbrand. There are soldiers out scouting the area for any survivors, I can assure you of that. But you need to lie back down and let us treat you. Your wound has soured and you will be no use to anyone if it gets any worse. Let us help you.”

With the way his mind swam, it felt like he was back in the Sundering Seas, desperately clinging to Galadriel’s hand as they tried to ensure each other’s survival. It took great effort to focus on what Bronwyn was saying to him and an ever greater effort to realise that she was right. The way he heaved breaths through his parted lips and the manner in which his heart hammered in his ribcage urged him to go and find her, but he was in no state to do so. Right now, he doubted he would get very far on his own with a souring wound and no medicine.

With a heavy groan, he allowed Arondir to gently push him back down on to the cot. They both fussed over him while he stared at the roof of his tent again, trying very hard to stay awake. Whatever they were whispering to each other, he couldn’t hear.

“Stay with him a moment,” Bronwyn asked the Elf. “I will go get what aid we have.”

Without another word, Halbrand found himself alone with Arondir. By now his mind had cleared somewhat and his body calmed, though the burning pain in his side only faded slightly. He watched as the solder studied his injury, his expression not giving anything away.

“What of my wound?” Halbrand asked him gruffly.

“Bronwyn is the healer, My Lord,” he replied evenly. “Not I.”

“You’re a soldier, aren’t you? Surely you can hazard a guess.”

 He glanced down at it again before replying. “I would agree with her — it looks to have soured.”

“Any clue as to why?”

“You told her that you were stabbed, correct? By an orc?” When he nodded, the Elf continued. “Orc weapons can be crude but they can also be deadly. I have seen my comrades receive wounds that are harder to treat because they come from such blades.”

“That’s great news for me then,” he chuckled sarcastically and looked away.

Arondir didn’t laugh. “We will do everything in our power to ensure that the King of the Southlands lives. You have only just arrived to rebuild what your people have already lost — do not assume they will not do everything in their power to ensure your survival.”

“That’s a lot of pressure to put on one man.”

“Commander Galadriel would not have brought you here if she did not believe in your ability. How long have you known her?”

Halbrand met his gaze again and was momentarily stunned with the genuine depth behind his eyes. “About a week or so.”

“You seem have formed a strong bond in such a short time. The camaraderie between you is reassuring to see.”

While at first Halbrand was going to contest this, he merely coughed and said. “I suppose so.”

The last thing he wished to do was talk about his Elf to Arondir, especially when he had no idea where she was or if she was even alive. Thankfully though, the soldier seemed to be quite astute because he made no further comment on his relationship with Lady Galadriel and Bronwyn soon returned.

She got to work, using whatever medicine she had to try and aid him. “I must apologise, My Lord. We have so few supplies. The eruption destroyed so much of it and the Númenóreans have very little left to use as well.”

“You’ve nothing to apologise for,” he insisted, feeling his eyelids growing heavy. “Far more of those Southlanders would be dead if it wasn’t for you two.”

He didn’t see the smile she offered in return, for his eyes were already closing despite the pain in his side. What he could discern however was the smile in her voice. “Rest, Lord Halbrand. We will aid you while you sleep.”

Very soon, exhaustion took him again and he fell fast asleep.

o O o

Halbrand wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he awoke again. He was relieved that he felt slightly better over all, but his stomach still burned viciously. He stayed in his cot for a while, fading in and out of sleep with little control but he hoped that the intermittent resting would do him some good and help him to heal.

It was during this brief state of half-awake and half-asleep that he heard his name being called. Light shone on his eyes as he slowly opened them to find a familiar face walking up to his bedside.

Galadriel stood before him, shining as bright as the sun in her armour, caked in soot and yet so mesmerising it left him speechless. He gulped, glistening eyes fixed on her form — he feared that if he blinked, she may disappear from his sight.

She spoke with what sounded like such genuine relief. “I thought you had died.”

She’s here, she’s actually here…

Halbrand allowed himself a heartbeat to drink her in, the pain in his side fading away with it.

“Better for me if I had done,” he said thickly, offering her what he hoped was a charming smile.

Arondir quickly explained the situation to the Commander. “The Southlanders found him on the road like this yestereve.”

Bronwyn added more information as Galadriel gently moved his tunic to assess the damage. “The wound soured overnight. I thought to try and treat him on the road, but…”

He felt her hands softly inspecting him and a dull ache flared through his whole abdomen. He shut his eyes, released a heavy breath, and gulped.

Her gaze was on him — he could feel it so intensely that he knew it to be fact. When she spoke next, he could feel himself growing anxious. “This wound needs Elvish medicine. Can he ride?”

“I’ll have the healers gather what provisions they can.”

Bronwyn left the tent with a determined beat in her step and Arondir followed without hesitation, leaving Halbrand alone with his Elf. Galadriel looked over her shoulder to met his gaze and spoke with a small smile. “Well, my friend, it seems fate has in store for us one more raft.”

“This is not over,” he insisted with a shake of his head. “I will not abandon these lands and condemn them to burn.” She looked away for the briefest of moments before looking back when he added. “Nor will you.”

Halbrand truly hoped that she understood the promise behind what he was saying. Back on Númenor, he had been so insistent about never returning to Middle Earth, and now he found himself desperate to restore whatever normality he could for the Southlanders. When he felt responsible for so much of their sorrow, it was hard to turn away now, but he hoped that he could do so with Galadriel by his side. Their connection ran so deep that it had left him blindsided after the battle in Tirharad, but he was so viscerally… vulnerable in the woods when he confessed to her. The terror that surged when he uttered those words was worse than any possible orc-army could cause. And somehow, with the soft statement that came spilling from her lips in response, it was suddenly worth it.

Parting from her didn’t feel bearable — not after that day, not after he got a taste of how it felt to fight side by side with the noble daughter of the Golden House of Finarfin. 

When he met her gaze, he tried to give her another genuine smile. When she returned it with just a hint of one of her own, his heart quickened.

“I’ll prepare our horses for travel,” she said, turning to leave.

“Someone else can do that,” he grunted, halting her momentarily. “Stay with me a moment.”

“I have to go and prepare for our journey.”

“But you have only just returned and I’m sure that there are soldiers to spare who can manage it themselves.”

“There is work to be done, Halbrand.”

He hoped that his teasing was clear to her. “Are you so eager to get away from me?”

“I am eager to get you the help you need,” she offered with surprising kindness. Perhaps she was going easy on him because he looked half-dead. “We will have quite the long ride ahead.”

He stifled the urge to say the first thought that came to mind and instead chose to delay her leaving with questions. “Where will we be going?”

“The city of Ost-in-Edhil in Eregion, an elven realm north-west of here where the river Sirannon meets the Glanduin. Their healers will be able to provide you with aid.”

“And how far away is that exactly?”

The Elf hesitated before answering. “About a two-week ride.”

Halbrand had to resist the urge to gulp again. The thoughts of getting on a horse for two weeks was less than pleasant. Two weeks travelling halfway across Middle Earth with Galadriel however… “Do you think I’m fit enough for a two-week ride?”

“You do not have much of a choice; it is the only place in which you can be treated. But I believe that with whatever provisions we shall receive and with my help, you will make it there before your wound is beyond healing.”

If it was anyone else urging him on to horseback for two weeks he probably wouldn’t believe them, but he was hardly going to argue with one of the Ñoldor. She was still the safest travel companion he could hope to have.

“To Ost-in-Edhil then,” he said resoundingly and carefully eased himself into a sitting position. A groan escaped his lips before he could help it and Galadriel was suddenly by his side. “Thank you for agreeing to take me there.”

“Think nothing of it, my friend,” she responded, all business. “Give me your hand.”

He didn’t hesitate to let her small hand grasp his and with her arm gently wrapped around his back, she eased him up to sit. He gave her a nod before he carefully got to his feet. Once he was steady, she released him but remained close — the urge to reach out and grasp her hand again was strong, but he resisted to keep whatever self-respect he had left intact. “Allow me to pack some of my things and then I’ll be ready to leave.”

“I am afraid you can bring naught but the clothes on your back and whatever provisions the healers share with us,” she explained quietly. “We cannot afford to have the horses carrying any excess weight. Our main concern is getting you to Ost-in-Edhil.”

Halbrand nodded before reaching down to where his sword and a blue cloak lay on a chair in the corner. The garment was left by one of the healers when he first arrived at the camp and it was secured with a silver circular clasp, intricately detailed with a wolf’s head eating its own tail. He took the heavy material in hand before he gestured down to his Númenórean blade. “Surely I can bring my sword?”

Without any hesitation, Galadriel took the sword in hand before sticking her head out of the tent’s flap. She acknowledged one of the guards outside. “Please secure this to Lord Halbrand’s horse.”

The man left to do just that and she returned to the tent to find him struggling with his cloak.

He looked at her bashfully. “Do you think you could give me a hand with this?”

“Of course,” was her firm reply. She then stood directly in front of him and he passed her the garment. It was quickly slung around his shoulders, the material warming him up in its embrace. Her eyes were fixed on the task at hand as she fitted the brooch closed while his remained focused on her countenance. Her skin was dirty with ash and sweat and her braided hair was messy despite the fact it was still tied together. His eyes watched as he lips carefully parted with concentration.

The physical restraint it took to not kiss her in that moment was even more strenuous than it had been in the forge on Númenor. She knew he was watching her — she had to — but even still she never said a word as she focused on the clasp. He wouldn’t have been surprised if she could hear how his pulse quickened — he could certainly hear the pounding in his own ears. With a long drawn-out gulp, he turned his gaze down to her hands just as she snapped it shut.

“There,” his Elf announced and took a step back to appraise him. “Are you ready?”

“I think so. Does the cloak suit me? One of the healers said it was kingly.”

“It is certainly fit for a king,” she offered and gave him a brief look up and down. “The colour suits you.”

“Blue, eh? I’ll keep that in mind. I’m sure it will suit be better when I’m not wearing a bloody tunic as well.”

He didn’t miss the way her brow briefly furrowed with his comment. In half a second the worry on her face was gone. “Then let us leave at once so that we might ensure you return to these lands to finish what we started.”

“Lead the way, Elf.”

Though she walked ahead of him, she was stood waiting outside as he exited the tent. A crowd of people quickly formed on either side of the path to see them off, watching intently as Halbrand and Galadriel walked side by side. The Southlanders bowed low as they passed and from his left, Bronwyn let out a shout. “Strength to the King!”

A chorus rang out amongst his people. “Strength to the King! Strength to the King!”

He glanced around him in amazement, trying hard to focus on the pride that welled within his chest instead of the paralysing guilt in his gut. Their shouts continued even as they approached Arondir, who held on to the reins of their horses, tacked and ready for travel. With a heavy grunt, Halbrand managed to get himself into his saddle — the fact he could manage it on his own was a relief and gave him a small amount of hope that perhaps he wasn’t as sickly as originally thought. He gasped as he steadied himself on the horse and then watched as Bronwyn’s son, Theo, approaching Galadriel with her sword held out in his hands. He blinked for a moment, shocked to see the child was alive and well. 

From atop her own white steed, Galadriel smiled at the boy. “Keep it, Soldier.”

Theo nodded up at her with a hopeful glint in his eye. “Commander.”

Halbrand then cast his gaze to his left and found Galadriel looking back at him. As she turned and lead her horse away from the camp, he followed obediently as another chorus of cries erupted from the gathered crowd.

“Strength to the Southlands! Strength to the Southlands! Strength to the Southlands!”

Even as he and Galadriel urged their horses into a gallop towards the grassy plains ahead, he could still hear the hopeful shouts of his people travelling through the wind, following him as they set off on their journey.