HALADRIEL WEEK: 1st, 3rd, AND/OR 4th AGE
She meanders among the woods of her childhood, fingers brushing against rough trunks. There are memories woven in the underbrush, wound through the branches she once sat upon, legs dangling as she waited to catch her brothers unawares. But these half-recalled images no longer feel like hers. Nothing does.
Months ago—or is it years now?—she stood on the docks at the Grey Havens, pressing Nenya into the hands of one of the East-Elves, the few who have chosen to remain in Middle Earth. She would go west and perhaps her restless spirit would finally settle.
It hasn’t. The tempest within is never quite tamed.
Her next step lands wrong, and she throws out a hand to steady herself—only to be met with air. The forest is gone, replaced by a rolling sea, cold water lapping at her bare feet as she stands on unsteady, creaking boards. No. She squeezes her eyes shut, willing this unwelcome vision away.
Her stomach twists at the voice she hasn’t heard for millennia. “You are not here,” she says. This is only another memory, brought to life by her ennui and the residue of magic in her veins.
“I am.” Her breath catches when his hand lands on her shoulder. “Look at me.”
She turns, gaze falling on the features which have been branded into her mind. “You were banished to the void.” It is where he belongs. They stood as enemies for so long, and yet—
The affection he once inspired in her refuses to die.
“You call to me,” he says. “How can I not answer?”
“You have.” Red-gold flickers in his eyes, but as quickly they turn olive again. “Just as I cannot help but reach for you.” The words are serrated at the edges, as if it torments him.
She would be glad for it if she were not caught in the same tide.
“You promised peace,” he begins with a hint of accusation, but she will not hear it.
“I promised Halbrand peace,” she counters. “Sauron deserves no such rest.”
“I am both and neither.” He draws nearer, knuckles brushing against her jaw. “’No lasting peace in any path,’ you said, ‘but that which lies across the sea.’ For either of us. Tell me, have you found it?”
She wants to say she has, that her seclusion in Valinor is enough. But the wetness in her gaze betrays the truth before she can give voice to the lie.
“There is none without me. Nor for me without you. There never has been.” He grasps her hand, presses it against his chest. “We are bound.”
“No.” She cannot—she will not give the dark lord this.
His expression falls flat. “You will see in time—for that is all we both have now.”
Before she can protest, he disappears along with the Sundering Sea. She sags against a tree, turmoil thick in her chest.
She shouldn’t want him to be right, but she does.
