Beasts of the Hill and Serpents of the Den. Galadriel/Sauron | Halbrand. Explicit. 202.3k | 5.1k chapter [40/150] Ch. 40: A Dutiful Wife
During the First Age, the War of Wrath changes course. On the island of Tol-in-Gaurhoth, the Isle of Werewolves, one of Sauron’s former strongholds—is the seat of the Necromancer’s power. Instead of sending his wolves out to kill Finrod after capturing Felagund in his dungeons, Sauron demands an exchange for his life. Galadriel offers herself.
“Madness,” Halbrand offered softly, the word a mere whisper across his lips. “That is all I have seen. From the day I had defected, and even before that, I saw a wild madness spread from one corner to the next. Extreme lengths on both sides. None willing to listen to reason.” Halbrand paused, his bottom lip trembling as he recalled an old memory, and with its recollection, a glimmer swelled within his eyes. “Reason used to be my best quality, Galadriel. Reason. Can you imagine? Being the only one speaking any sense, and no one willing to listen to you? I was a ghost.”
Gently, she brushed her thumb over his cheek, giving him a slow nod of understanding. “I can imagine,” she whispered back.
“I believe,” Halbrand murmured, his own thumb mirroring her action onto her cheek as well, “that you spoke of reason, too, though no one listened, did they? But you spoke true to what was in your heart, whether they wanted to hear it or not, and you stood your ground.”
“I did,” Galadriel confessed, raising her chin. “My kin, Fëanor, for one.”
“Hmm,” hummed Halbrand, “a mess of an Elf.”
A little laugh, nothing more than a soft chuff of air, escaped Galadriel in a huff of agreement. He was right, of course. “The one who started this mess,” she whispered, a hint of sadness within the words.
