Chapter Text
Over the next week, Halbrand’s recovery progressed quickly, to everyone’s relief. Standing up as well as taking short walks up and down the hallway became easier by the day. Soon they went outside of their quarters to explore the city.
Galadriel had been there to help at every step of the way, lending an arm to support, keeping him motivated or distracted, depending on his mood. She would share her meals with him, even bringing them to his room herself.
Both of them had started to relax around each other after their tension-filled reunion at his bedside. They would talk about the city and its history, the more Halbrand was able to see of it. That would lead to stories about the Elves living here and their famous trades. He was eager to learn about the skilled smiths of Eregion, how they were trained and how long it took to become a master of the arts.
Of course she had known that their conversations would circle around his own trade and interest in it, especially since she’d told him about the predicament of the Eldar and how it could possibly be solved.
She had been able to keep him away from Celebrimbor’s forge so far, but he grew restless and reminded her of her promise.
There still was no news from his people or the Númenoréans, but she doubted they would hear from either of them any time soon. That fact seemed to make him anxious, as she could see a frown appear on his face whenever either of them would mention the Southlanders. She empathised with him, but there was nothing to be done about that at the moment, so she contented herself with making him feel comfortable and welcome.
They had come across Elrond on a few of their walks together, who would relegate news regarding the city as well as other elven business to Galadriel or would simply join them in their chosen topic of conversation.
Halbrand turned out to be a knowledgeable and keen listener, offering intelligent insights into whatever trouble with politics Elrond had found himself in at the time. It came as no surprise to her that the Man was charismatic and sharp-minded, with a great sense of being able to gauge someone’s character or intentions. She’d borne witness to that during the time they’d spent together on the Island of the Star.
When Galadriel and her mortal companion had set out for their usual morning walk around the city, Elrond had joined them at the steps facing a busy marketplace full of vendors offering their goods. Soon, Halbrand and the High King’s advisor were deep in conversation, leaving Galadriel to chase after her thoughts for a while.
On the one hand, she enjoyed that two of the people she cared most about in her life got along so well. It was refreshing to see them talking animatedly about one topic or another, as they both deserved time to rest from their respective burdens.
She was glad her elven friend did not express the same sentiments towards Men as the High King, especially not one the Eldar would consider of lower breeding than the Edain. Most importantly, Elrond had not judged her for her attachment to Halbrand. He had seen right through her when she had been reluctant to admit to such feelings even to herself, yet given her only acceptance and support.
On the other hand, she couldn’t help but wish to be alone with Halbrand on their walks, cherishing them as time spent only with each other, away from healers and meddling Elves. It was a foolish thought and unfair to Elrond, as he was making an effort and only meant well.
Galadriel watched them as they walked, Halbrand in the middle, herself on his right and Elrond to his left, but didn’t listen to what they were talking about.
They’d put the Man in elven clothes and this was the cleanest and healthiest she’d seen him throughout their acquaintance.
She’d thought him handsome with cuts and bruises on his face, sunburnt and with windswept hair, but to see him like this made it clear to her that he didn’t need a crown on his head to look royal.
The way he carried himself now was a stark contrast to the demeanour he had displayed in Númenor when he had tried to blend into the background, yet had failed spectacularly.
Despite his injury, there was more confidence in his gait, more sense of purpose.
When she tried to listen back into their conversation, Elrond was promising to take them to Celebrimbor’s forge next and introduce Halbrand to the elven smith.
She should have known that he would find a way around her reluctance to let him throw himself headfirst into work, it was a clever move to be sure.
He had the gall to wink at her when she caught his eye, knowing full well that he had outmanoeuvred her.
Galadriel sighed but followed them the short way to the imposing tower that housed the forge.
With Elrond going first to show the way, they climbed the stairs up to the hallway leading to the circular workshop made by elven and dwarven hands.
She’d never been in here before and had little understanding of a smith’s craft, yet she could tell that this was nothing like the forge she’d seen on Númenor.
The look on Halbrand’s face showed even more wonder and excitement. His mouth fell open while he walked into the middle of the room, turning around a few times to take all of it in.
She was reminded of elven children seeing the Two Trees in Valinor for the first time, all those years ago. The pure joy that exuded them, in disbelief that something this beautiful could exist and yet an acceptance that only sweet innocence could give.
Elrond called from the other side of the room, trying to get the Man’s attention.
“Halbrand! Over here! I want to introduce you to the Lord of Eregion.”
This seemed to break the spell Halbrand was under, prompting him to follow Elrond into a small room to the side of the workshop, that seemed to be an office, a space to prepare sketches, with bookshelves lining the walls and a small round table in the middle.
Galadriel stayed back and explored the workshop some more, sure that the three of them would be all right without her for a while, talking about ores and bending metals or some such. Their voices carried over to her, yet as before out on the streets of Ost-in-Edhil, she didn’t listen closely to the words spoken.
A spark caught her eye, a tiny flicker of light being reflected by a white gemstone nestled into an open box made of wood. She went to take a closer look, finding two more stones, one red, one blue, equally beautiful and gleaming. For some reason, she was drawn to the white gem, as if it were calling out her name.
How peculiar.
There was a power radiating from the stones, almost like the Silmaril had done, but these were not the work of Fëanor.
The voices from the other room were coming closer and getting more excited.
“Are you sure this could be done, given how little we have of mithril?” It was Elrond voicing his concern.
They approached her and the table that held the box with the stones. Celebrimbor picked up the piece of mithril lying on a stone slab on top of the table.
“It is an unusual method to work a metal of that kind, but the idea is sound. I think we can make it work if the High King agrees. It won’t be easy, yet if we were to succeed, it would be well worth the effort. Lord Halbrand, I cannot thank you enough for your suggestion. I was about to give up on the endeavour, but this has provided new fuel for my task.”
The Man stood between the Elves, looking pleased with himself about the praise, a smile lighting up his handsome face. He caught her eyes and his smile deepened like it had when she’d found him on the ship leaving Númenor for Middle-Earth.
“Please, just call me Halbrand. You honour me, my Lord. I was glad to help and would be happy to work with you on this project if you would have me.” Celebrimbor smiled at him and patted his shoulder in a fatherly way.
“I will gladly accept your help, then. We need to inform the High King of those plans immediately.”
Celebrimbor had called for an audience with the High King in his workshop, with Elrond and Galadriel joining to inform them all about his plans.
She only had a vague idea of how the elven smith wanted to proceed, even Halbrand had been unable to properly explain to her what the Lord of Eregion had devised, before leaving the forge.
The Man had been modest about his part in coming up with the plan, simply calling his help giving Celebrimbor an idea. An idea that could be the key to healing the lands and allowing the Eldar to stay in Middle-Earth. She would go to find him after this meeting.
The four of them gathered around the anvil, Gil-galad holding the piece of mithril in his hands, watching it closely as if it would reveal its secret to him, would he just keep looking at it long enough. He looked tense and irritable.
“One object, for all of Middle-Earth?” The High King was sceptical. It was hard to believe, Galadriel silently agreed.
“I know it sounds strange, High King. But surely, we should exhaust every possible solution?” Elrond tried to appeal to the King’s reason, but Gil-galad ignored him, focusing on Celebrimbor instead.
“Precisely what manner of object would that be?” The King’s eyes bored into Celebrimbor’s, flustering the smith who then stumbled over his words.
“It, uh, would be smaller than previously imagined, something that can be carried around…” He trailed off and the others chimed in. Elrond suggested a sceptre, Galadriel herself a sword, but Celebrimbor had something else in mind.
“Something round, that arcs the light back upon itself in one unbroken circle, building to a power that is all but unbounded. A crown, perhaps. Placed upon your head, High King.”
Gil-galad looked intrigued, but not yet convinced, his gaze burning into Celebrimbor.
“You would give one person so much power to wield on their own? Those are dangerous thoughts, indeed.”
Galadriel took a step towards the High King in defiance, ready to argue for the plan’s approval.
“Sometimes we must risk danger because it is the only path forward. I wouldn’t be standing here otherwise.”
All of a sudden, Gil-galad’s rage, which had been well-contained until now, boiled over and he snapped at her, seemingly towering over each of them in all of the regality he could muster.
“You should not be standing here at all, Finarfin’s daughter!” Startled, she took a step back from the anvil, but he was not finished shouting at her.
“You defied my orders at any chance you got, always asking for more, never admitting any wrong-doing or defeat. Yet I bestowed honour and glory upon you, giving you a chance to go back to the Undying Lands, to go back home and you dared to throw it in my face!”
Any retort she may have had died in her throat. Her voice would not do her bidding. Shame ran through her veins, her face heated up in humiliation and anger.
“I will not discuss your defiance right now, I will deal with your impudence later! Leave us or I shall have you dragged from this place!”
Galadriel’s eyes grew wide, she never would have imagined the High King would treat her such, let alone in front of other people. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, tension coursing through her body, shock rooting her in place until she couldn’t take it anymore and fled from the room.
She paid no mind to her direction, almost blind to her surroundings. Her feet moved on their own accord, carrying her to a small place they had found on one of their walks at the banks of the river Glanduin.
A few steps lead to a small stone bench sitting there on the green shores, resting on roughly hewn stone tiles overlooking the river. That was where she found Halbrand skimming stones over the water. When he noticed her approach, he turned towards her, face lighting up in anticipation.
“Galadriel, what did the High King say? Did he approve of the idea?”
The anger had left her, but not the mortification. She breathed deeply a few times before finding enough poise to answer him.
“I do not know. He became angry at me and bid me leave his presence. Elrond and Celebrimbor continued their petition without me, I am sure. I sincerely hope they were successful despite the High King’s fury. All of our hope rests upon it.”
Halbrand’s face fell and he closed the distance between them in a few long strides. He stopped right in front of her, putting his hands on her shoulders, his eyes searching hers. His touch was comforting and she let out a small, strangled noise. He brought his arms around her completely, pulling her close to his body as she came willingly, putting her arms around him as well and resting her head on his chest.
Galadriel instantly relaxed into him, his body providing a shield from the worries on the outside of their embrace, keeping them at bay like a light chasing away nightmares.
He pressed a feather-light kiss to the crown of her head, causing her to close her eyes in contentment. How did he have such power over her?
“Are you all right?” More than all right. She couldn’t remember having ever felt this safe.
“I am now.”
They remained in that position for a little while longer and Galadriel wasn’t sure if it had been minutes or hours, but she knew she didn’t care either way. It felt too good to be in his arms, so she wouldn’t move away first.
Halbrand broke the silence, but not their embrace.
“I think we should head back to the forge to see what the High King’s decision was.”
He was right, of course, but she wanted to stay in this moment for as long as she could. Eventually, she sighed and he let his arm fall from her back, taking a small step away from her. They were still close enough to touch, but the closeness from before was gone.
“You are right, we should go.”
Their way back to the forge seemed longer and shorter than her escape from Gil-galad at the same time.
Galadriel hoped that the High King had already left, not knowing if he would take kindly to her return. She would have to face his judgement at some point, but that didn’t mean it had to be now.
The sunroof of the forge had been opened and there was bustling activity upon their arrival at Celebrimbor’s workshop.
A group of elven smiths carried various tools around, some fetching buckets of water, others busy trying to set up something that resembled a cauldron in the middle of the room.
“Looks like we are to proceed after all.” Halbrand’s lips formed a smile while watching the scene, the same relief visible on his face that bloomed in her heart.
Hope is kindled.
“Indeed.” She could see him twitching with excitement, finally being able to do something productive that suited his skills. Galadriel gave him a smile in return.
“Perhaps you should find Celebrimbor so he can give you a task?”
His smile widened at her suggestion and he nodded enthusiastically, immediately crossing the room to do just that.
For her part, she would try to stay out of everyone’s way, while quietly observing from the background.
Only a short while later, Halbrand was hard at work, kindling the fire and conversing with Celebrimbor on how best to go about their important work.
Not having anything better to do, she wandered into the office with the round table, where she found Elrond with his forehead creased, one hand cradling his chin and looking to be deep in thought.
“What worries you, my friend?”
He must not have heard her enter the room because her words startled him out of his reverie. A sigh escaped him when he noticed it was her who had approached him.
“Galadriel. Forgive me, my thoughts were elsewhere.” She gave a small nod.
“I can see that. What troubles you this time, mellon nín? From what I can tell is going on in the forge, it seems as though you convinced the High King despite his misgivings.”
Elrond avoided her gaze, his body tense. “So it would seem. He ordered the city to be abandoned should we not succeed in three weeks' time.”
Galadriel moved closer to him, gently laying a hand on his arm. She hadn’t believed the situation to be this dire.
“Three weeks? That is not much time to accomplish such a massive task.”
Elrond turned back to her, his arms cradling his chest. He looked smaller, like the scared orphan she found at the river ages ago.
“It is not. Which is why I hope that Celebrimbor and Halbrand will be able to do everything they can very quickly. We are lucky you came across him or we’d be packing our things into ships right now.”
All she could do was nod in agreement, even though she had called it something greater than luck or fate.
Six days later, tensions were running high because there had been only little progress in making any alloy with the mithril available to them. They were running out of time and everybody started to feel the pressure, figuratively as well as literally.
Galadriel had taken to bringing food with her in a little basket, luring Halbrand away from the forge each day to at least eat something in relative peace. They would go to what in her head became their spot by the river, eating whatever had been prepared for them while talking about their day.
When they had finished their food and packed up their dishes, neither of them was ready to leave yet. She could tell that he had something on his mind, so she waited for him to gather his thoughts.
But before he could do that, there was a loud explosion not too far away from them.
The forge!
Both of them got up quickly, Halbrand grabbing her hand while she picked up the basket. He pulled her with him, not letting go when he broke into a run, sure that she could follow his pace with ease.
As they arrived at the tower, there was smoke coming from the windows of the workshop on the top floor. Some debris had fallen down onto the streets close to the building.
They ran all the way up the stairs, smoke and dust making them cough and their eyes water. Galadriel was eerily reminded of Orodruin erupting, burying the Southlands under fire and ashes.
She could hear loud voices coming from the circular room. Elrond and Celebrimbor were having a rather heated discussion.
“Time? We don’t…we don’t have time!” Celebrimbor let out a few frustrated noises and turned to pick up a tool from a table.
Galadriel stepped into the room after Halbrand, who immediately began to assess the damage.
“Perhaps you should stop the work for the day. You may have pushed yourselves too hard.”
Celebrimbor looked at her, sighed and directed a few Elves to begin cleaning up the workshop. Halbrand was unhooking the chains holding the remnants of the melting furnace in place. He muttered something under his breath.
“Pushing ourselves too hard…” She watched his face light up. “That’s it! Galadriel, you are a genius!” His sudden outburst of excitement startled and confused her. He called after Celebrimbor.
“What if that’s the trouble? Supposing we’ve been putting too much pressure on the ores?”
Elrond seemed to share in her perplexity. “Meaning what?”
Everyone turned to Celebrimbor, who had rejoined them with a look of wonder on his face.
“Meaning that the ores shouldn’t be pushed together by force. More like drawn or coaxed together carefully.” He put a hand on Halbrand’s shoulder.
“If that’s true, my lad, we’ve been going at it all from the inside out.” The elven smith paused, then motioned for everyone to set up a new furnace.
“Quickly, we can start anew right away.”
Galadriel still had no idea what she had done to bring about such optimism, but she wouldn’t complain about the renewed motivation after such a dangerous failure.
That same evening, Halbrand came to visit her in her chambers. He must have taken a bath to wash away the soot from the forge, his hair still damp and changed clothes, as he was clad in a fresh tunic. She had done the same after returning the basket to the kitchens.
Galadriel took a seat on a small sofa in front of a large window and motioned for him to do the same. He sat down beside her, entirely too close and yet not close enough. She noticed the same reluctance from before, as something weighed on his mind.
“You’ll be happy to hear that we were successful in our endeavour. We managed to get the mithril to join with other ores. Tomorrow, we’ll forge the objects to save your people.”
It was unbelievable. They had done it! Relief and joy flooded her heart and she released a breath that felt like she must have held it for weeks.
“That is indeed the happiest news! But did you say objects as in more than one?”
He awkwardly pushed his hands together, then took one of her hands in his. Halbrand traced a finger over hers, making her shudder, but not from the cold. It was a soft touch that echoed in her whole body, sending vibrations even down to her toes.
Both of their eyes were locked on their joined hands.
“Yes, we’re making two objects. There is just too much power for one.”
His voice was low and reverent. Her breathing became difficult, making it hard for her to form words. She didn’t dare look up to meet his eyes. She wasn’t ready for what she may find there.
“Two crowns? Who would wear the other one?” She felt him more than saw him shake his head.
“No, not crowns. We would…we would make two rings. One for the High King and one...for you.”
He traced the place where a ring would rest on her hand with his finger tips. His voice was so low, had she not had the hearing of the Eldar, she may not have heard him at all. Or perhaps that was because of the rush of blood in her ears, she couldn’t quite tell.
A ring? For her?
A traitorous part of her wished that the rings were for the both of them, but for an entirely different purpose.
No! It cannot be! It cannot…And yet, she’d been the one to suggest it before, not knowing what would follow. Bind yourself to me. She had all but begged him. Was that, too, the work of that which was greater than fate? After all, even Elrond had noticed that without Halbrand, they would be on their way to Valinor, not talking about forging rings.
But Elves only ever married once and her husband was dead. An elven widow was expected to stay alone, to not remarry. And yet her grandfather Finwë had married again after his first wife had died giving birth to Fëanor. If he hadn’t, Galadriel herself would not be here.
Her thoughts had completely gotten away from her, the rings in question brought no marriage bonds with them, despite how much she may have wanted them to.
“Why a ring for me?” Galadriel couldn’t fathom that Gil-galad would allow her of all people to wield such power. Not after the outburst he had had in the forge…
“Because of your sacrifice. They’re asking for something of yours. Something very valuable to you. And I couldn’t bear the thought of you parting with it without holding on to at least a part of it.”
He seemed to be speaking in riddles. Her eyes found his again. She had been right, what she found there was overwhelming. Sadness and hope, excitement and guilt, darkness and a flicker of light, but most of all, the same thing that had lodged itself into her own heart.
“We need a metal so pure that only one found in Valinor would be good enough. We…we need your brother’s dagger. I’m so sorry to be asking for this, I know how much it means to you. But there is no other way.”
Her eyes closed on their own accord, her chest constricted painfully, making her draw in breath sharply. Was that her punishment, then? Giving up the only thing left of Finrod’s in this world?
Her other hand grabbed a piece of his sleeve, clenching and unclenching her fingers around his arm, needing to hold on to something.
“The rings…they will heal the Elves and stop the rot?” She opened her eyes again to search his face for answers.
“Yes.” He squeezed her hands to comfort her. She bit down the tears that were collecting in her eyes and nodded.
“All right. Finrod would want us to use his dagger to save our people. This is a good thing.”
Halbrand scooted closer to her and put his arm around her, the other one was still holding on to her hand. Galadriel let her head sink onto his shoulder, could smell the lavender soap he had used to scrub away the dirt.
“It was your idea to give me the other ring.” It was a statement of fact, not a question.
”And then they made you ask me as punishment for your cheekiness.” He chuckled.
“No, not as punishment. It was Elrond’s idea that I should ask you, though. He insisted that it should be me, that for some reason, I would be the only one not at risk of losing a limb for making that request.”
Galadriel was glad that he couldn’t see her face flush at the implication. She’d talk to Elrond about his meddling later. And perhaps to thank him, too.
Sleep eluded her that night. With so many thoughts spinning in her head, her mind would not quiet itself and neither would her heart.
When the morning came, she dressed slowly but carefully. Her stomach in knots, she skipped breakfast altogether, only drinking some tea the servants had prepared for her.
There was no point in delaying the inevitable, so she wrapped her brother’s dagger in a piece of cloth and left her room. Right across from her door, Elrond and Halbrand were waiting for her. She was glad for the company, even as they walked the way to the forge in silence.
Time had lost all meaning as they climbed the stairs to the workshop. Galadriel’s mind was numb and it felt like she perceived her surroundings through a veil.
She didn’t notice the people setting up everything for the metal to be melted, she didn’t hear Celebrimbor explain what they would do.
All she could hear was a faint pulsating noise, almost as if someone was calling for her. They must be close, yet she could not see them.
Through her stupor, one thought pierced the surface to her consciousness.
“Wait! It must be three. You must make three rings. One will always fall, yet two will divide. But if there are three, there will be balance.” She did not know how, but she knew it to be true. Celebrimbor nodded sagely.
“Indeed. We shall make three. Make the necessary adjustments.”
Halbrand came to stand next to her. Fixing his gaze on the furnace, he asked her the question she could not answer.
“How did you know? You are right, of course, but I wonder how we didn’t see it, yet you could?” She shook her head, hoping it would clear her mind.
“I do not know. It was as if someone had whispered it to me in a dream. Or a dream of a dream.”
When they were ready to proceed, Celebrimbor asked her to bring forth the dagger.
With one last look at her precious possession, she unwrapped it, put it in the melting pot and stepped out of the way. Someone took her hand and led her to a chair.
Galadriel watched as the dagger slowly lost shape, the metal heating up and becoming liquid. She watched as they bound it to the mithril and as they poured the alloy into three moulds.
She observed the three rings being forged and saw each of them receive one of the gems she had admired not too long ago.
Sometime in between, the High King had joined them. He didn’t seem to spare her any mind, fully concentrated on the rings.
When it was done, Galadriel knew which of the rings was hers. She got up, crossed the room to the table where the rings rested and held out her hand as if to touch it. Her ring.
Celebrimbor offered the golden band set with a sapphire to Gil-galad, who put it on with an incredulous expression on his face.
“Well done, Lord Celebrimbor! What marvellous jewels you have forged! I shall name this one Vilya, the Ring of Air and Dominant to the others. It would be fitting if you received the third ring, my Lord, as a reward for your work and honour for your house!”
The High King seemed to be pleased with their achievement and in a forgiving mood. The elven smith put on his own ring, another golden band set with a ruby, and admired the fruits of their labour.
“It shall be called Narya, the Ring of Fire, befitting for a smith. I am most grateful, my King, I am but your humble servant!” He bowed to the High King with reverence.
It was Halbrand who picked her ring up, took her hand and slid it on her finger, her eyes following it with wonder. It was the band made of mithril, set with a Diamond.
The Adamant Ring. The Ring of Water. Because that was where her life had changed irrevocably. It all came back to this moment. Bind yourself to me.
She held up her hand into the light, the ring sparkled like the sun reflected on the sea.
Galadriel’s eyes found Halbrand’s and something inside of her fell into place.
“This is Nenya.”
When your soul finds the soul it was waiting for
When someone walks into your heart through an open door
When your hand finds the hand it was meant to hold
Don't let go
Someone comes into your world
Suddenly your world has changed forever
Demi Lovato - Heart by Heart