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Galadriel knew, of course - the moment the deed had been done, the moment they’d been successful, and good had triumphed. Just as she always knew it would. It was as if a great burst of energy had been released within her, halting her mid-speech. A weight, that had been placed upon her for so very long, she had assumed it had melded to her very being, lifted from her so sudden, she gasped.
“I felt it, too,” Celeborn said instantly, his eyes wide and sparkling with joy. “It is done then.”
She was unable to respond. Just as quick as the ease of weight had been, so too was the immediate sadness the followed, as if a dam had burst and a flood of bittersweet emotions rushed through her, tearing out long rooted beliefs and long healed over wounds, so that she stood raw and tender and unable to move at the shock of it.
“My love?”
She could not hear the soft tone of her husband, deaf and blind to everything as she was in this moment. It was only when he took her face in hand, his thumb stroking her cheek, so gentle, that she could finally notice the world beyond her once more.
With a smile, she covered Celeborn’s hand with her own, leaning into his familiar touch. “I am fine. It is surprise, is all.”
“Indeed.”
“It has been...” How did one describe the magnitude of it all?
“It has been a long fight. Hard won.”
“Yes,” she whispered. “Very hard won.”
Galadriel’s slippered feet stepped soundlessly through the yellow leaves beneath her, as if they parted before her in reverence, creating a silent path ahead.
Walking through The Golden Wood had been meant to bring peace to her mind and soul, to release the burden of feelings long twisted within her. But still they remained. A hazy darkness in all the light, not even the surroundings of such beauty could extricate it.
She’d hoped the end would be truly that - the end. But it seemed, for her, even after all these centuries, this darkness would remain. She wondered what that meant for her, if she would ever feel truly worthy of Valinor.
“You’re making this far too complicated for yourself.”
Her breath caught at the familiar voice, her shoulders going rigid and her spine straight as steel. Surely it was only wrought by the tumult of these recent events. Surely it was-
“No.” It was said in hush but laced with such amusement. “I am here.”
Swallowing, she blinked. “You are not. You cannot be. You have been defeated.”
The crunch of leaves underfoot came from behind her, as well as the prickling of skin signaling the presence of another.
“What is it that I’ve been hearing for so long now? Oh yes, the only way that Lothlórien could have been conquered by the armies of Mordor, is if Sauron would go there himself.”
A red wash of panic began to rise, coming from a place deep within a primordial part of herself.
It had been a trick. The battle had been lost.
He released chuckle, deep and warm with nostalgia. “Fear not, my good Lady Galadriel. As of this most recent development, I’m afraid my conquering days are no more.”
A moment of silence reached out for what felt like a millennia, her heart hammering as she heard the breath of him from behind her.
How?
“Won’t you look at me?”
“No,” she answered, swift and sharp - a parry like in her younger days of sword fighting.
“Why?”
What if she turned, and he were there? Or if he wasn’t? Which idea did she yearn for more? Which frightened her more?
“Because that may make you real,” she finally said.
“Oh, I am. Very real.”
More crunching leaves, followed by the warm disturbance of air at her back, and she knew he had come closer. The hand on her shoulder, gentle and languid as it brushed down her arm, stole her breath. But whether it was out of fear or something else, she genuinely could not discern.
“I’m not here to harm you or your kin, Galadriel,” Sauron whispered with lips barely grazing her skin, the soft breath of his words tickling her ear, whisking away the lingering fear.
Very real.
Her head tilted, almost imperceptibly, in an unconscious invitation. Though it was not imperceptible to him of course, for as always, he saw all, and she could practically hear his self-satisfied smirk.
He took what was offered, selfish creature that he was, pressing his cheek against her temple, before nuzzling the soft skin behind her ear.
“Galadriel.” Said like a prayer that sent her skin aflame. “Will you look at me?”
Her eyes closed against the desperate want to do just that.
“I cannot.” If she had been younger, she would’ve hated the way her voice trembled, giving away such weakness. But now, the heat of her youth had given way to a cool acceptance of things that were and had been. One could only move forward, after all.
Leaning back against his chest, he again happily took what she willingly gave. He slid one arm beneath her own, palm flat on her stomach, and his other journeyed across her clavicle, his hand clasping firm to her shoulder.
Galadriel felt as much as heard his deep sigh, rushing against her face and rumbling against her back, as if he’d been longing to hold her for forever. “If only you’d been so receptive centuries before,” he teased, and she couldn’t hold back the smile at the absurdity of it all - she, the lady of light, being held in a romantic embrace by the dark lord himself.
“You would not have been so enraptured with me if I had been.”
“Shows what you know. You have enraptured me always.”
A long silence enveloped them, with only their breathing and the hushed shhh of the breeze through the golden canopy of leaves above disturbing it. She gave herself over to enjoying the feel of him.
Eyes closed, her other senses began to open anew, and she felt the hold he had of her tighten almost unnoticeably, as fear seeped from him.
She raised her hands to cover his own, fingers intertwining and grasping each other against her stomach, as her thumb began stroking the back of the hand that gripped her shoulder.
Sauron sighed once more, resting his face between her neck and shoulder.
“How are you here,” Galadriel questioned, finally breaking the quiet solitude they’d fallen into. “Why?”
His chuckle was grim, the sound of it muffled against her and dripping with such poisonous dread and self-hate, it shocked her that he could feel such things still. “I go to a dark place soon. One I know I’ve earned.”
Now she understood. He was scared. “This is a goodbye?”
“It is,” he answered simply.
Her hands squeezed his in comfort and sympathy, aching to soothe him as her eyes burned, her throat full. “Do not be afraid.”
“I deserve to be. The Galadriel of the past would agree.”
A harsh, choked laugh escaped her. “Indeed.”
“Do not worry for me.”
She shook her head. “I do not. Only...” She couldn’t finish. Didn’t know how. And he lifted his head to kiss her temple.
“You truly are full of light.” He pressed his lips close to her ear and whispered, “And I am grateful that you had such sense as to not allow me to twist it for my own selfish purposes.”
A confession raced through her mind, as it had many times before, yet she would not dare speak to any other. “Sometimes I wonder. I wonder if I had stayed. If I could have changed it - stopped it. Stopped you from falling.”
“No.” He said it without hesitation. “I was always going to give into my selfishness. My need to control. Even now... it calls to me.”
“More than me?”
With this he did hesitate, though the answer was obvious. “Yes.” The single word of truth was whispered out long and distorted, desperate and sinister, and she froze in his grasp which tightened still.
She contemplated escape, but then with a grunt, the shadow of Sauron’s darker self retreated, and she released a slow breath of relief.
“So I go where you cannot follow. And you will do likewise.”
Her brow furrowed. “Likewise?”
“Valinor.”
Some ancient thing took hold of her, clamping down on her heart.
“Stop it,” he ordered softly.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
He raised the hand from her shoulder, wrapping his fingers round her chin. “You know exactly what I mean,” he said, raising her head playfully to kiss her throat, his chapped lips, so tender. She noticed dark hair out the corner of her eye, and she dared to wonder what form he had taken.
“You,” he punctuated with another soft kiss, “are not-“ -kiss- “-unworthy.” With that, he released her chin, his thumb stroking her jaw and making her shiver. “Hmm?”
“Hmm.”
“Say it,” he demanded with a grin.
She couldn’t. It had been so long. A feeling that had grown into truth. “What if I am unworthy?”
“Galadriel,” he groaned with disappointment. “Believe me, or don’t, but I know there is not an elven soul more worthy than your own.”
She smiled. “That means much coming from the Lord of Darkness, himself.”
“Mm, dark I may be, but that only allows me to distinguish the brightness of your light even more.”
“Besides,” Sauron chuckled, “if you do not go, you will force me to cling tooth and nail to this earthly plane until I make certain you do. And I guarantee you, those who have just battled to rid themselves of me would not be happy with that.”
With a watery roll of her eyes, Galadriel managed to slip herself from his pleasant hold, stepping away, her back still to him.
“Galadriel, do not deny yourself peace because of me,” he pleaded.
She clenched her jaw. Ridiculous. He was ridiculous.
“I am responsible for much suffering. Most of which, I do not even feel shame nor guilt for. But you have always been a light... my light.”
He was silent for a few heartbeats, and the urge to turn to him, to look upon him, was greater than ever before.
“I could not bear it.” The words came out broken and heavy - truthful.
Unable to hold back any longer, she turned, first head over shoulder and then body.
The sight of him, in the image of one who stole her heart so long ago, had a tear finally escape.
He grinned once more. “Well, hello.”
“Because of you?”
He looked away for a moment, green eyes taking in the majesty of their surroundings, before finally returning to her. “I don’t claim to know your every mistake. But I can guess that I am the one you torment yourself over the most.”
It was true, and it would be silly to claim otherwise.
He came closer. Though not close enough.
“Be free of it, Galadriel.”
His words had her gasp, bringing forth faded, tattered memories for them both.
“Please, I beg you. Let me go to this place at least knowing I have done something worthy at the end.”
She finished the journey he’d begun, coming so close she could feel the heat of him. But she could also feel it beginning to wane - to cool. He was leaving her.
With a thick swallow, she raised her hand, fingers trailing through his scruff and across his jaw, and her chest clenched at the sight of him closing his eyes, taking in her touch as if to sear it to memory.
“Yes. I will go.”
Eyes opening once more, Sauron smiled. “Good.” He brought her hand to his lips, kissing first her knuckles and then her wrist, holding her there.
He suddenly gave the look of a naughty child. “You know, you are much more accommodating now.”
With a scoff she fisted her hand into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him down to her, with him still teasing all the way, it’s incredibly alluring, Galadriel, until finally she silenced him with her lips against his own.
It was deep and it was slow, neither of them willing to rush what was to be their last kiss. Breath, hot and needy, mixed between them before their lips would fuse together again. She did her best to memorize him, the strength of him, the feel of him, how with even just a look he could both tantalize and infuriate her.
Galadriel slid her hand from his jaw into his hair, tangling the silky locks between her fingers before hooking her arm around his neck, wanting more, though not certain how to get it. Splayed across her lower back, his hand pressed her closer, and she complied, mewling into his mouth, molding herself to him, and wishing she could bind his very soul to her own, where she could keep him always.
With ease he lifted her from her feet, his arms holding her securely against the solidness of his body in a fierce embrace before setting her to her feet.
“Galadriel,” he breathed onto her flush face, his nose nuzzling her own, “you must go.”
She merely answered with another kiss, selfishness refusing to let him go, refusing to let it end. But he was becoming so cold, even his lips chilled her. She broke away, but not far, pressing his forehead against her own.
“Hold on to me,” Galadriel gasped forcefully against his lips, voice breaking as her tears fell liberally. “In the darkness, when you are alone, and afraid. Hold onto me.”
Sauron’s miserable laugh shattered her heart. “Only if you promise to let me go.”
She kissed him again. “I can’t.” She brought their clasped hands to her chest - to her thundering heart. “I will keep you here, whether you want it or not.”
“Silly elf,” he said with a grin, “thinking I wouldn’t want such a thing.” He carded his fingers through her hair, his breath shaky. “You must go now.”
“And you?”
“I will be here,” he replied, tapping the back of his finger against her heart. “Or have you forgotten already? My, you are getting on in age, aren’t you.”
Finally, with one last kiss to their held hands, he did what she obviously could not, stepping away.
Warmth surrounded her again, only her fingers still cold and slowly losing feeling in his grasp.
She stood tall, her eyes boring into his own. “I love you,” she declared, voice steady and unwavering.
He smiled, appearing genuinely happy at hearing her say the words, and she wondered how often, in his incredibly long life, he had been.
“And I, you.” He tilted his head, gesturing down the path she came from. “Go now, please. And don’t look back.”
Severing their final link, she released him, turning away while she still could, cheeks wet, yet tears no longer falling. She did as he asked, continuing on her path without looking back, though the pull to do so was tremendous.
Instead, she focused on placing one foot in front of the other until she could no longer feel his presence behind her at all. She halted, the sudden ache of his absence nearly too much to bear. But bear it she would, as she had with all those she’d lost before.
“I’m ready,” she announced to Celeborn. “It is time for me, I think.”
The smile he gave her was one of relief. He’d known full well how long she’d agonized over the decision, desperate to see their daughter once more, though afraid to be given that which she felt unworthy. “So it shall be. There never was another so deserving, Galadriel.”
“And now I believe it.”