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‘Give me your ring…’
His voice echoes in her mind while his unnerving emotionless gaze pierces her to her very core
‘Galadriel…your ring…’
He doesn’t blink, doesn’t even breathe it seems. Just stares at her while repeating his demand again and again.
Her thoughts fleet to Hallbrand, involuntary, and make comparisons she never asked for. Haphazardly they bring forth the observation that his eyes were always warm, sunlit even, especially when he smiled and those crinkles appeared in the corners. They appeared whenever he looked at her.
Next is the hair. His auburn locks were so much better than this atrocious wheat blonde. It looks as unnatural as all this Annatar facade. This is Sauron her thoughts conclude. Hallbrand is no more.
She slowly raises her hands and takes what he asks for off her finger not even looking at the ring. She only looked at his face as she proffered her hand towards him with the jewel on her palm. He narrows his eyes, for a brief second doubting her intent and reaches to take it.
Bitter realization dawns on her that same moment, that he will take it. Just as he took the Nine. He will kill her, take it and leave. Her body reminds her that he does not even need to do the deed, as she can feel the poison from the crown seeping in her blood.
It is as if she suddenly feels it all — her broken heart, her aching spirit, her pierced flesh and his coldness. It is as if she is in the wastes of Helcaraxe and broken halls of Forodwaith at the same time. She had never felt this freezing chill creeping in her bones. Like frost liсking at her insides, numbing all her body.
She is not aware of tears streaming down her face. She only comprehends the fact she is crying when she blinks and finds her vision blurred. Pathetic truly. Crying in the face on her nemesis, surrendering in a broken misery. Her palm is open. Her sword is out of reach and even if it was not, what harm could she cause him?
But the moment never comes. He does not take the ring. He looks like he is stricken by the sight of her state. He even takes a small step back. So now he seems to realize how much he hurt her? He had to gut her, destroy a whole city and drive her to the brink of death to notice?
And with this newfound clarity comes her voice.
‘Take it, Sauron! Take it since it is the only thing you truly ever wanted!’— she is half a step away to simply throw the ring in his face when he recovers from his haze and catches her fist with Nenya clenched in it.
‘What an outrageous lie and you dare call me deceiver!’
Galadriel wrenches her hand away and takes a hasty step back, completely forgetting of the fact that they were fighting at precipice of a cliff in throes of anger. She is half a mind to simply jump off it balancing on the very edge, when she hears a loud clank and in the next moment a pair of strong arms pulls her back, pressing her body tightly to another.
The world swirls a little, before she understands what happened as she watches Saurons black sword and Morgoth’s crown, together with the pouch, lying on the ground. She is held in his iron embrace.
‘Don’t you dare to jump, you foolish elf!’ his chest is rising fast as he breathes his warning out in her ear. ‘You are wounded enough, you will not survive!’
‘As if you care!’ she tries to push him away because surely she cannot feel safe in his arms. His, maybe. But not Sauron’s. ‘You only want the rings, so what do you care if I jump and loose my…’
Galadriel does not get to finish her thought as she is turned again and her vision swarms with black dots. She is with her back to the same stone pillar that he used as he thrust that cursed crown into her.
‘You are far greater deceiver than I will ever be. I asked you to join me, to be my Queen. I pleaded, twice. So do not insult me with…’
She does not hear the rest because her body has wrung itself out and she falls into the void, only thinking how strange it is, that she is dying embraced in her enemy’s arms, yet feels somehow content.
//
The great Maia does not panic, but comes so very close to it as he watches her eyes starting to shut. Her fist unclenches and the ring, the one he so greatly desires falls to the ground but he does not really pay attention, as he is focused on a limp body bracketed and only supported by his arms.
His elf is dying. The Unseen world is pulling at her spirit coaxing it out of her physical form. There is a part of him that says he got what he wanted, that he should simply take the Nine and her ring and depart.
Yes, there is that part of him, basking in the triumph of victory, of pained screams from the burning city below, from all the havoc he wreak upon almighty noble Eldar.
Well, there is another part. The one that felt pain from the hurt in her eyes, her accusations, but mostly her rejection. He said he did not wish to harm her. He did anyway, but she was trying to stab him. In his anger he forgot that she was just an elf. He himself barely survived that crown. And her everlight spirit won’t. Unless…
He pulls Galadriel down, laying her gently on the ground with her upper half still close to his chest. She is barely conscious, sweat coating her temples, all of her body burning in fever. Sauron pushes her thin coat to the side, to reveal the inflamed reddened flash, veins blackened around it.
Her ring. Her adamant white ring was right beside them and he tries to contemplate that he takes it to save her. Not from her. But for her.
It feels foreign, almost reluctant on his finger as he places it there. It stings immediately, dowsing him in glacial waters, and yet instantly his thoughts seem clearer, his mind has quieted and that dark part of him is suddenly mute. As if she is back.
He sees a single path forward, as he opens her gambeson, admiring her lithe form, but frowns upon the deep red stain formed on her side. He places his ringed hand above her clavicle where the thickest spike wounded her.
‘Canya ni illi auta ella.' (I command all darkness to depart from thee).
He swore he heard a hiss from the wound as the blackened lines retreated back to the source, which looked as if it has been cauterized some time ago, not as raw as it was mere moments ago. Still, that was not enough and the ring all but willed him to try further.
‘Ilyë márë felmi hondonyassë antainë lyén.’ (All good feelings in my heart are given to you.)
‘Nanwen.’ (Come back) he whispered slowly. He cannot fathom the thought that he called for the light to banish the darkness. That he said these words that had just left his mouth. But the result is momentary: fever released the elf from its clutches, her body cool and the tremors subdued. Color slowly painted her skin and even covered in dirt and grime she was as breathtaking as a star in the skies.
He couldn’t help himself, he just cradled her face tracing her brows, nose and resting his thumb on her lower lip. He wanted to…well, he wanted many things. To kiss, to bite, to suck, to nip, to lave…the list was endless. But those were baser things he desired.
In one single word he wants to have her. To be with him. To be His.
Supporter, friend, lover, Queen.
His.
He never had something of his. Let alone someone.
He labored under Aule and the fruits were his.
He served Morgoth and the spoils were his.
He thought Adar was, but even he belonged to his children.
If only she could see. Feel what he feels for her.