Fallen star Elenion

Chapter 6: A shadow rekindled

The cold winds of the Forodwaith howled through the desolate landscape, carrying with them whispers of the past. Snow crunched beneath
Y/n'a boots as she trudged through the icy wastes, her breath forming visible clouds in the frigid air. Her hand rested on the hilt of her sword,
her y/e/c eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of life—or death.

Beside her, Galadriel marched ahead with unwavering determination, her gaze fixed on the distant mountains. The company of elves that followed them had been searching for weeks, but the elusive trail of Sauron always seemed to slip through their fingers.

"I know he's out there, Elenion," Galadriel said softly, without turning. "I can feel it."

Y/n nodded, though her heart was weighed down by doubt. It had been centuries since Finrod's death, and her grief had been a constant companion through the long years of their search. The once-burning desire to avenge her husband had become a quiet, smoldering flame—still there, but tempered by time and weariness.

"Do you believe we will find him here?" Y/n asked, her voice barely louder than the wind.

Galadriel stopped and turned to face her, the sharpness in her eyes cutting through the fog of despair. "We must. This is the last lead we have." She paused, her face softening slightly. "And when we do, what will you do?"

Y/n looked away, the memories of Mairon—*Sauron*, she corrected herself—swirling in her mind. She had loved him once, before the darkness claimed him, before the war had twisted him into something unrecognizable. And yet, a small part of her still hoped that perhaps, somewhere beneath the malevolence, the Mairon she had known remained.

"I don't know," Y/n admitted. "But I will not let him destroy more lives."

Galadriel's hand rested on her shoulder, a rare gesture of comfort from the warrior-elf. "We will finish what we started, together."

As they pressed on through the endless snow,
Y/n's thoughts drifted back to the beginning of their search. It had been Galadriel's obsession to hunt Sauron, to avenge her brother Finrod. Y/n ahad joined out of her own grief, but as the years passed, it had become more than vengeance for her—it had become a mission to stop the evil that had consumed Mairon before it could spread further.

In the distance, the ruins of a fortress loomed, half-buried in ice. Galadriel's pace quickened, and Y/n followed, her instincts on edge. There was something about this place, something ancient and foul. It reeked of Sauron's presence, even if it had been long abandoned.

The company approached the entrance, and Y/n felt a chill that had nothing to do with the cold. She exchanged a glance with Galadriel, who nodded grimly before leading them inside.

The fortress was a maze of crumbling stone and frost-covered walls. As they delved deeper into the structure, the temperature seemed to drop even further, and Y/n felt the weight of centuries pressing down on her. The darkness was thick, oppressive, but she pressed on.

Suddenly, one of the elves called out, "Over here!"

Galadriel and Y/n rushed to his side, finding him standing over a strange sigil carved into the stone floor. The mark was unmistakable—a symbol of Sauron's dark hand, long forgotten by most, but seared into the memories of those who had fought in the war against Morgoth.

Elenion's breath caught in her throat as the realization hit her. This was no ordinary fortress—this had been one of Sauron's strongholds, a place where his influence had taken root long before the world had known his true power.

Galadriel knelt beside the sigil, her fingers tracing the lines with grim recognition. "He was here," she murmured. "His darkness lingers still."

A flash of pain shot through Y/n's heart. Even after all these years, Sauron's presence was like a shadow that refused to be dispelled. She had once believed she could save him, but now she wondered if there was anything left to save.