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Down by the banks, a sunflower blooms
Reaching into the clouds
Ever young and ever-growing
Defying the hardest winds' blowing
Time and again I have drawn her
Ever since she was a golden-haired girl
Taken up by devotion
I still hear her sing by the ocean.
Tamino, Sunflower
The sun was raising through the slim trees, silently.
Galadriel’s eyes were shut as shining rays of sunshine moved carefully, caressing the tick, rough trunk of the pine trees and her snow white skin. She felt warm.
Behind her closed eyelids she witnessed their prolonged movements, for the sunlight casted a bright glow she sensed through her eyes. No sound could be distinguished except for the wind – it was faint, a distant thing that made all her senses awaken little by little.
Her body was laying on the grass; for a moment, her slim fingers brushed the green leaves as she thought of her home, of the woods bathed in the sun that stretched for miles and miles, and the joy she felt while walking through those tender waves of leaves with her bare feet.
Slowly, she opened her eyes and put her weight on her elbows. A sinister feeling reached her stomach, burning her chest and making her look for her sword frantically just to recall then that Finrod’s blade was gone.
Her heart started to pound as she tried to fight the battle that was happening within herself – she couldn’t remember anything. Where was she? What had become of her memories?
Only an image popped into her head, but it was more of a feeling than substance – a languish fear, or rather a brutal shame, and eyes as bright as the flames that got caught up in her breath. She didn’t want to admit it to herself but she started to long for that warmth, for she felt cold and devoid of any aspiration.
Where am I?, she asked herself, but as soon an answer gushed up between the state of utter uncertainty and bewilderment she was tied to, she shut it down. Where was she? She knew, of course she knew, but how could she believe her senses when they could fail her again?
Suddenly, Galadriel found herself in the waters of Glaundin again. In her heart, she felt the same pull – hands clasped around the thread of her thoughts as they tagged it fiber by fiber; a gnawing sense and an evergreen hunger of power and, deep down, sorrow and dismay. Where did her emotions begin and Sauron’s end?
She couldn’t tell, for they were One at the moment. Bounded by destiny, perhaps, or a trick of nature.
Galadriel got up. Her white vest caressed the grass beneath her, making the bees that had found shelter on the flowers fly away, followed by their buzzing sound.
“Elrond?” she called, and her voice sounded like paper against rock.
“Galadriel,” a familiar voice said behind her. “Galadriel, is it you?”
Her body tensed. A small tear ran down her cheek as her hands started to shake.
“Galadriel, turn around.”
Galadriel closed her burning eyes and clutched her chest with her hand. “It is not you.”
A breathless laugh escaped Caleborn’s mouth. “It is I, Galadriel. For you are dreaming.”
Galadriel’s legs moved, following her intricate thoughts. She tried to escape him, escape what she knew he could never be, but as soon as Caleborn’s hand rested on her right shoulder, she turned.
There he was: Caleborn. Time seemed to move backward as he grabbed her hands and placed them on his cheeks. He was exactly how she remembered him.
Their foreheads touched, and Galadriel felt in the fingertips of her fingers the same trill she was once so accustomed. The trees held their breath as a sigh of relief brushed her lips and elevated in the air, reaching with their hands the bright skyline. Galadriel’s hair was lit in gold.
“You are not real,” Galadriel murmured.
Her eyes raised and met Calebron’s. “I am but a mere dream.”
Slowly, Calebron began to swing. A sob escaped Galadriel’s mouth as she recalled the very first day they met – she had been dancing and he had stared at her for minutes, or perhaps hours, before he made the first move.
Galadriel missed him. How could she not? He had been her husband and companion, but even then her thirst hadn’t been satisfied, at least not entirely. She had longed for action ever since she exhaled her first breath. She didn’t know herself without Sauron, for he had given her a purpose.
While Caleborn’s hand roamed her back, she heard Sauron’s words echo in her head. Where did Galadriel begin and Sauron end? Again, she didn’t know, not even now that she was in the arms of the elf she once loved.
She had given to Sauron a purpose, too. Of that she was certain. He had gone to her as a wanderer and she had fed his thoughts with hope, making him retrace his steps and reclaim the very crown she had yearned to destroy with her bare teeth.
Guilt ate her alive. She had been searching for him for centuries, sensing something in her heart she once mistook for fate, but when she finally found him, found Sauron in Halbrand, instead of feeling anger, she sensed homeliness.
She didn’t know back then who Sauron was, but how could she not? She had been certain of that for hundreds of years, that once her eyes looked into Sauron’s, she’d know. But when she escaped from the ship and found Halbrand, she found herself in him, and something of her companions too, for he had no purpose or hope. And once he revealed himself to her, humiliation found shelter within her.
What could the Dark Lord and the Lady of Light have in common?, she asked herself, and when she remembered their talk after she almost killed the leader of the orcs a shiver ran down her spine. She had felt something then, and he had too. But again, she shut it down.
Caleborn’s pinky reached her pointed chin and she quivered, for that gesture alone made her long for someone else.
“Galadriel,” he said, smiling. “What are you thinking of?”
Galadriel didn’t reply to him right away. He stared and stared at him, and when she no longer felt his fingers on her face, she spoke.
“Once someone said to me that looks can be deceiving.”
“They must have been very wise.”
Galadriel took a step back. Caleborn’s arms fell on his sides. “He is nothing but a fool.”
He tilted his head and in his expression she glimpsed the Dark Lord. “Are you certain of that, my love?”
Galadriel clenched her jaw. “Yes, I am.”
He laughed again, and his mocking smile made her feel repulsed. Under her gaze, he started to walk around her like a wolf with its prey. Their bodies weren’t close anymore, but she could feel ants gnaw at her thoughts.
“And what if I told you that I can read your deepest thoughts?” His placid steps made her feel impatient. “He knows you, Galadriel, as no one ever known you. Your impatience mirrors his, your hunger too. That day, when you found him on that raft, you convinced yourself he was but a mere man. But you felt a pull, like a flower bending to sunlight. You are scared.”
“Liar!” she screamed. “You betrayed me.”
“I did not. You did it yourself.”
“You made me think you were the king–”
“Again, I did not. You came to that conclusion alone, I just played along.”
Galadriel followed him with her gaze. She felt anger boil within her.
“Galadriel,” he said, and for a moment she closed her eyes and pretended it was Halbrand who spoke her name. “You make me a better man, can’t you see it?”
Galadriel opened her eyes, but she was no longer in the glade of flowers she met Caleborn for the first time. Now, she was in Mordor as snow fell down the sky. The wind howled.
“Look at me, Galadriel.”
She did not turn, but once she lowered her gaze she found her silhouette reflected on the surface of the ice. There she was, standing proudly, and beside him, Sauron.
“You bind me to the light as deeply as I bind you to the darkness. We are but one, Galadriel. Do not fight it, embrace it. If I fade into nothingness, you fade with me.”
His breath brushed her hair, but when she turned the landscape changed again. Now, Númenor chanted its gracious songs with the help of its wild waves crushing down the shores.
“Listen to the water, Galadriel. What does it whisper to you?”
Galadriel did not reply, for she ran and grabbed the sword that she found laying on the marble floor. As soon as she aimed it to the voice behind her, Númenor faded in favor of Lothlórien.
The sword throbbed in her hand as Sauron stood ahead of her. He was just like how she remembered him in Númenor, with his damaged robes and his hair greasy with sweat. His lips curved into a small smile. She only wished to take it off.
“I’ve been waiting for this moment ever since I saw you fight.” He brandished his sword and took his hair out of his eyes, making her recall the moment they were on the raft and he wet it with clean water. “You looked glorious.”
“And you are dolt.”
Sauron laughed, and Galadriel felt warmth in her chest. If she could hold onto that feeling forever, she would. But it was hopeless. As her brother used to say, the rock would eventually drown. It was in its nature and no living thing could oppose it, not even Sauron.
“Come,” he said, “and fight.”
Like dancers, they began to move. None of them fought for dominance, choosing instead to play with each other. They were even – both in battlefield and in heart. For a moment, Galadriel pretended this was just a dream and the man who was dodging her blows was Halbrand, a smith’s aide and a mortal man. Men and elves’ stories ended in tragic, but theirs would eventually end in flames. Fire against water, as wind would rise above, feeding each of them and leaving in its path nothing but ash.
“You told me once that I could be free of my past,” Sauron eventually said, striking a blow with his sword and making her fall to the ground. “That it didn’t define me.”
“I didn’t know you then.”
“You are mistaken,” he replied, always smiling. “You knew me even then, but suddenly you asked for my name and I was a stranger. You are afraid.”
Galadriel gritted her teeth and moved forward, hitting Sauron again and again. She aimed for his throat, but when he elbowed her she shifted her grip on the sword and scratched his thigh.
Sauron hissed and fell to his knees. She moved, carefully. His grip on the sword was hard, but he ignored the weapon altogether and stared at her gracious movements.
“You are afraid because you saw yourself in me.” Suddenly, Galadriel stopped. She felt her heart skip a beat. “I could have killed you, but I didn’t. I could have left you drowning during the storm or in the waters of Glaundin, but I didn’t.”
She felt her eyes water, but she didn’t let herself cry. Instead, a tear ran down Sauron’s cheek, mirroring her pain. “Why?”
Sauron looked away. His sword was a distant thought now.
“Why, Sauron?” she asked again, this time with her gritted teeth. “Why didn’t you kill me?”
Sauron didn’t reply. His gaze landed on his lap.
“You say I am afraid, but I think your fear runs deeper than my own.”
He wet his lower lip with his tongue. The shadow of a smirk loomed on his face. Galadriel took a step forward, and another one and another one, until she stood a breath away from him. He didn’t look up, so she grabbed his hair and locked their eyes together.
“Why, Sauron?”
He hissed in pain. His bared throat moved as he gulped; strangely, she didn’t aim for it with her sword again. Instead, she looked at him in the eye and left herself cry silently.
“I don’t know,” he murmured in defeat. “I don't know.” For a moment, she thought his eyes followed the bridge of her nose and her thin lips. “I bore many names in my lifetime, almost all of them long forgotten now, but I... There is something new with you that I thought impossible.”
She shook her head. “You want power.”
“I want to heal Middle-earth.”
“By enslaving its creatures?”
Sauron shut his mouth. He seemed to think of his reply, and when it finally came to him his expression shifted slightly. His hand searched for his sword again, but Galadriel kicked it with her foot.
Sauron smiled again. He was mocking her.
“Then answer my question, elf.” Her eyebrows furrowed, she didn’t like the sound of his voice – it ran deep, reaching her whole being and making her tremble in trepidation. It was then that she gave a name to her emotions: it was a sense of uncertainty. The same trill and excitement she felt during battle was now knocking on her door. “Why didn’t you ever mention Caleborn? You said it was to avenge your brother, why didn’t you speak his name too?”
Galadriel hesitated, and Sauron took advantage of the moment to kick her feet and steal her sword.
They were now laying on the grass with Galadriel’s back touching the crushed flowers beneath her while he towered above. Sauron held the sword against her throat but he didn’t move.
Galadriel felt his heart pound against his rib cage and caress hers as well. It was as if they were one being sharing the same breath, needs, and wishes.
Sauron brushed her face with his breath. He told her once that he’d been awake since before the breaking of the first silence, she believed him that day, but now she couldn’t help but admire the choice of his words. He felt ancient against her body; a living thing that vibrated though her feverish skin and sought shelter in the fairness of her judgment.
How could she despise him when he held within himself something that was hers as well? Together, they balanced each other. Light, darkness – what were of them? Nothing but dust.
The depths of the ocean spoke through them. That day, when the storm threw her into the ever changing waves, he went after her. She was drowning like the rock Finrod once spoken of, for darkness was growing inside of her. But he had saved her with the same dagger he was pointing at her throat now – in a blink of an eye, the sword she found in Númenor gave away to Finrod’s dagger. She almost felt content.
Unlike her, he hadn’t drown. And now, she wondered if she could tame the flame that burned in his heart.
“Answer me, Galadriel. Please.”
Her hands were pinned to the ground by his legs, the weight of his body started to hurt. She could only breathe his ashy air.
Instead of answering with words, Galadriel raised her leg and flipped them. Now towering above him, she held the dagger to his face as he panted.
Galadriel moved closer. Their noses brushed and she felt Sauron hold his breath.
“You could have had it,” she found herself saying. “All of it. Instead, you decided to betray me.”
Galadriel’s gaze shifted to his mouth. He was no longer looking at her bright eyes either, for he was following the expanse of her skin with his piercing gaze.
“Would have you accepted me then?”
It wasn’t the first time he entered her mind. She remembered the time he told her that the first time he looked at her he had thought her eyes were as sharp as the sea, if not more.
“No,” she said. “I wouldn’t have.”
“Why?”
“Because you are Sauron.”
Another tear ran down Galadriel’s cheek, meeting Sauron’s shortly after. It touched his mouth. “It’s amusing, because if I had been in your place I would have accepted you for who you are. And I do accept you, Galadriel.”
Her grip on the dagger loosened. For a brief moment she looked up, and the despair in his eyes felt like a blade entering an already open wound. She loved him, even now that he was asking something from her that she could not give to him. Even when he pointed the sword to her throat and made her fall to the ground like a star falling down the sky.
She closed her eyes as a hand reached her jaw. The ghost of his caress made her limbs quiver. She felt his calloused fingertips brush the tips of her ears and follow a lock of her golden hair. Lastly, he touched her chin and traced the outline of her lips.
“Look at me, Galadriel.” She opened her eyes and found Sauron smiling sadly.
With his fingers rested on the side of her mouth, she connected their lips. His hand reached the back of her head, bringing her closer to him as he kissed her back.
Where did Sauron begin and Galadriel end? How could she come back to Elrond after betraying him again? How could she keep fighting Sauron when she felt as if she were bounded to the elements of the earth again? How could she extinguish the fire that ran within him when its twin moved inside her like a parasite?
She lost her humanity for the sake of battle, ending the lives of many innocent people. And now, between the arms of her enemy, she sensed peace. How could their bond be wrong when it felt so right?
When their lips parted, he framed her cheek with his hand. “Galadriel, I–”
Wake up, Galadriel. Wake up!
Galadriel frowned. Meanwhile, Sauron began to shake his head and apply force to his grip, making her hiss in pain.
“Galadriel, do not listen to his voice. Stay with me. Be with me.”
Galadriel, wake up!
Slowly, Sauron faded into nothingness and Galadriel woke up. In her hands, she felt the ghost of Findrod’s dagger.
Now I water the ground in which she stands
And shield her from every storm
For if I don't, we might go under
Forever bound asunder
No god above who will wonder
What about us?
Tamino, Sunflower