Rings of Power | Galadriel x Halbrand
Notes: I took liberties with Tolkien lore regarding weather, seasons and how the elves might celebrate yule, among other things. I also used a translator for the single elvish line Halbrand says in this fic. It might be incorrect and if so, please let me know what the correct translation is.
***
Do you just want my blood? Am I just that damn hard to love?
Lindon was a mystery to Halbrand. As winter approached, Galadriel had encouraged him to travel with her to the elvish realm and at first, he had thought it was for no particular reason but it quickly became apparent that she had dealings with the High King Gil-galad and his Herald Elrond. This left Halbrand wishing he’d stayed behind in Eregion; at least there he could continue his work with Celebrimbor.
Lacking the ethereal grace of its residents, Halbrand felt distinctly other in Lindon - where they were graceful, he was wooden and where they retained stillness, he was cumbersome. He did his best to lean into his perceived mortality, ensuring they believed him to be merely Galadriel's human companion. It wouldn’t do for them to learn that he knew much more about them than he let on, including his fluency in every single one of their languages.
“Walk with me,” Galadriel whispered to him where they sat together at a dinner held during the yule festivities. Halbrand glanced towards the table’s head where the king and his herald sat together in deep conversation, before setting his fork down beside his empty wine glass. The moment he stood, Gil-galad broke his attention from Elrond and glared towards the pair but Halbrand ignored him, the powdery snow beneath his booted feet sending ungraceful drifts in his wake as he followed Galadriel beyond the line of trees that sheltered the revelry.
***
They walked side by side along a path lit by bronze-plated, glass lanterns, their design delicate and refined.
“They are from Valinor,” Galadriel said when Halbrand slowed his steps to admire them more closely.
“Of course they are,” he sighed. “Isn’t everything?”
Galadriel inclined her head, the hood of her dark blue cloak slipping down to her shoulders. “Most things in Lindon are, yes.”
Halbrand’s attention moved from the lanterns to the elf, he couldn’t help noticing the way her hair shimmered in the low light - gold and shiver, as though the strands were entwined with any otherworldly alloy.
They continued walking in companionable silence until the lanterns became few and far between and the wood became darker with every step. Before long, they walked into a grove of holly trees, their deep red berries gleaming like jewels among the thorny, green leaves dusted with snow. The sight of them sparked something in Halbrand. He had collected memories like trinkets from the many forms he had taken over the long years. So many that it was difficult to pin them down, to discern the time and place they were from. The memory that rose from the holly trees was one of snow and ice, a wooden floor covered in furs close to a fire that smelled of burnt sugar and cedar. He vaguely recalled dark eyes that shone brightly, reflecting the orange flames and naked flesh burning with desire...
It came to Halbrand fast and hot and a blush stained his cheeks, forcing him to sink deeper into his fur-lined cloak.
“I cannot say I have ever seen such a visceral reaction to holly before,” Galadriel said, a wry tilt to her mouth.
“I don’t know what you mean.” Halbrand croaked the words then coughed.
“It’s just holly.” He broke a sprig off and held it in a loose, ungloved fist.
Galadriel raised a golden eyebrow at him, “I see.”
“I have a gift for you!” He said suddenly, reaching inside his cloak with his free hand.
“A gift? So you are familiar with some elvish customs then?”
“Ni am moina as tare than tye sinte, mime mel,” Halbrand replied in perfect Quenyan.
I am familiar with more than you know, my love.
Galadriel stared at him agape. “Where? When did you learn–”
“Here,” Halbrand held out a small wooden box tied with blue ribbon.
It was Galadriel’s turn to blush as she accepted the offering.
“Do you remember when you teased me about the mithril back in Eregion?” Halbrand asked, stepping closer to the elf as she lifted the contents of the box onto her gloved hand
“You said: will you make me a little replica raft, Halbrand? Or perhaps a golden ring?”
On Galadriel’s hand sat a little gold bell. “Halbrand, I am not certain that I understand.”
Halbrand picked up the bell and rang it. It was a delicate sound, as soft as falling snow yet sharp enough to be heard above the wind that was gathering high in the trees above them.
“This is your golden ring for a golden age.”
Galadriel removed a glove and gripped the bell between two pale fingers. “I suspect you are trying to be amusing, Halbrand.”
Halbrand chuckled. “Your suspicions would be correct.”
“Such a peculiar mortal.” She smirked a little, pocketing the bell and withdrawing a drawstring pouch.
“Here is my gift to you.”
Halbrand inclined his head in thanks and slid his fingers inside the pouch. What he pulled out was so unexpected that he nearly dropped it in the snow. It was a steel S hook, similar to what many tradespeople used to hang things on, blacksmiths included. However, this S hook was small and ornate with an elvish design etched into one side. It was delicate and far too beautiful to spend its existence in a dirty workshop.
Halbrand stared at it with a mixture of confusion and wonder. What did it mean that she was giving him this? Was he missing something? The S shape seemed to burn his palm as he held it…
S for Safety
S for Salvation
S for Sau…
Halbrand’s gaze whipped up to meet Galadriel’s. He searched for any sign of knowing, of recognition but she was glaring at him the same way she usually did.
“Galadriel, I–”
The elf grabbed the front of his cloak and pulled him towards her. Their lips crashed together with such force that he was sure he’d chipped a tooth but he didn’t care. Both hook and holly fell to the snow as he grasped Galadriel’s face in his hands, kissing her with a depth and purpose he couldn’t recall ever doing before. When he slid his tongue inside her mouth she moaned, pressing herself against the Southlander with every ounce of her immortal strength. They kissed as though their lives depended on it. Just like their lives had depended on each other on the raft. Neither of them would have ever admitted it but they had needed each other to survive then, and the same was true as they clung to each other now, the need to get closer as chaotic and strong as a storm upon the Sundering Seas.
The kiss softened for a moment as Galadriel’s hand caught in Halbrand’s hair, tugging until his head tipped back. He felt her breath hot on his neck and where he expected her lips to touch he felt words brush across the sensitive skin:
“You may refuse to be completely honest, Halbrand. But your secrets will be known to me with time.”
His eyes flew open, his breath catching between a whimper and a sob.
Then she was gone, her tracks in the snow already fading beneath fresh flurries.
“Do you want my blood, Galadriel? Am I just that damn hard to love?” He called after her, flushed and panting.
S for Secrets.
Stooping to pick up the S hook, Halbrand swore he heard the distant, hollow ringing of a single bell.
***
Thank you for reading! The title is a line from Golden Age by Ethel Cain.
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