The Light Between Our Scars | Adar x Galadriel | Rings of Power

Chapter 5: Shared torments

Galadriel, Adar, and Belanor were continuing their journey, skirting the forest and getting closer to the Elven camp. It was a beautiful sunny autumn morning, and the vibrant colors of the leaves on the trees reminded Galadriel of the beauty of Lindon. It was a bittersweet memory; on the one hand, it made her think about a peaceful place that seemed so far away. So many things had happened since, so many mistakes had been made, and so many hopes had gone. On the other hand, seeing nature still fighting fiercely against the darkness that was spreading in Middle-Earth revived her courage. She took a long, slow breathe, exhaling on a sigh, enjoying the fresh air on her face and forgetting about all that was broken for a minute.

Behind her, Adar had entirely different feelings. He was trying to hide how much suffering he felt in every nerve, bone, and muscle. A pain that wasn't simply related to the stab wounds of the orcs - the temper of the Uruk was enough to bear much more than that. What was draining his vital energy were the wounds of Morgoth's Crown. They were burning to the limit of what he could tolerate, and the pain wasn't only physical. The darkness was trying to put down its roots in his most inner being. He felt waves of an external, unwanted energy that aimed to take control of its body, mind, and heart. He knew that sensation too well, and he had never expected to feel that abyss of despair again. His brain wouldn't function properly, and the Uruk couldn't shake off the feeling of missing something - not because he had forgotten, but because it was hidden to him.

It was a deeply unpleasant feeling that made Adar feel vulnerable, and vulnerability wasn't an option for him. He wasn't used to not being in control of the situation, and he wondered if following Galadriel to the Elves was really the best option for him. The sunlight, dazzling to him after spending so much time in Mordor and in dark tunnels, gave him a sudden sense of dizziness. The Uruk involuntarily tightened his grip on Galadriel's waist to maintain his balance. He felt the Elf holding her breath and realized he was squeezing too hard, so he immediately released his grip again.

He stared at Galadriel's hair, so near his face. The soft, blonde shine wasn't lost under the dust of the battle, and the wind gently moved them from above her shoulders. It reminded him of a time when he used to live with the Elves, ages ago. Galadriel looked so fiercely pure and powerful in her delicate essence - a combination of ancient light and feminine strength that he couldn't ignore. She represented the Elvish essence at its best. In the brief moments they shared together before the battle of Eregion, he felt a deep longing to gain her respect. After all the darkness that had surrounded and permeated him for an age, her light infallibly attracted him - to what extent he couldn't understand. His tight lips arched in a little smile recalling the soft warmth of her hand in his that morning. Those thoughts gave a slight sense of relief to the torture in his body, so he continued to get lost in Galadriel's closeness, finding surprising comfort in it.

Trying to ignore the strangely pleasant soft touch of Adar's hands on her waist, Galadriel fell deeply into her worried thoughts about what would possibly happen when she would bring the Uruk to the Elven camp. There were many facts to consider, because that decision was taken when she still considered Adar an ally after Nenya healed him. Now, he seemed to have reverted to his old self. He wasn't completely the same, though, she realized. Something different burned in his eyes - what was it? She couldn't say.

She could sense his sufferings behind her, even if he was apparently trying to hide it. Why couldn't the Uruk remember what happened the day before? And what would this imply? She assumed that the wounds of Morgoth's Crown had a lot to do with it. That cursed Crown was materialized darkness, and she couldn't imagine what it could do to an already tormented Uruk like Adar. She stared at the horse's mane, trying to find a single good reason to justify her decision in front of Gil-Galad and Elrond. She had seen Adar as a completely healed, beautiful Elf - they didn't. She had heard his gentle voice saying No more flames, and no more darkness - they didn't. She had been saved by his sacrifice - they didn't. How could they even remotely understand why she was bringing the Commander of the Orcs to the Elves?

Galadriel's heart squeezed in her chest, her brain starting to slowly think through the events. Nenya had revealed a power and a light that she had never experienced before; would it heal Adar again? When he took off the ring the first time his scars and wounds had appeared again, though. Letting him wear Nenya permanently wasn't definitely an option. He would be lucky if Gil-Galad would approve the use of Nenya to heal him in the first place. And there was something else to consider, a thought that Galadriel's mind was avoiding at all costs. Their hands locked. His hands on her waist now. She blushed a bit, wondering if the Commander of the Northern Armies was just making a fool of her again. The whole situation was dangerously similar to what happened with Halbrand when she brought the enemy among the Elves. This time, the mistake - if it was a mistake - could be even more serious. She perfectly knew who Adar was - he wasn't disguised as someone else like Sauron.

From every point of view, it seemed an impossible situation to solve. She frowned, raising her eyes, and glimpsed a small squirrel dancing among the branches of a birch. The beauty of nature didn't give her comfort anymore. She knew that Adar deserved to be healed. She knew that he was ready for redemption. She was helping him because every Elf in Middle-Earth deserved to be saved, and he was an Elf, first and foremost. Moreover, he would be a powerful ally in the battle against Sauron. There weren't any other reasons, she decided.

Belanor stopped in front of her, and she was so lost in her thoughts that she almost hit him with the horse. The animal whinnied and stopped abruptly. Adar was diverted from his trance as well and moaned in pain. Galadriel shot him a worried gaze; he didn't look good at all, his hands were trembling, and the strips of bandages on his chest were soaked in black blood again. The herb she applied the night before had only a temporary effect, and if he had not been treated rapidly, he would certainly die.She and Belanor helped him dismount, and he crashed to the ground under a shady tree. "I think the Elven camp is just behind that hill, Lady Galadriel" said Belanor. "Thank you for your help, Belanor. I still have to ask you one more thing. I can't bring Adar directly to the Elven camp because..." She looked at the Uruk. Belanor raised an eyebrow and filled the phrase for her, "...because he is our second worst enemy?". She quickly turned back to him, surprised by his boldness. She couldn't blame him; she would have said the same - if not worse - if she was him.

"Because he is too badly wounded, and he can't proceed" she said firmly, looking Belanor in the eyes. He couldn't keep her gaze. Galadriel continued, "I need you to go there first, find Elrond, and tell him I'm here and that I need to talk with him. Don't add anything else. Just tell him where he could find me". Belanor nodded "Yes, Lady Galadriel. Do you need...?" he questioned, gazing at Adar interrogatively and showing her his knife. She could hardly hold a smile. That butter knife would just tickle Adar; she already had her sword, and the Uruk definitely didn't look dangerous at all in his condition. But she appreciated the young Elf's bravery and his loyalty in her regards. "No, Belanor. Thank you. Just go now".

She watched him going in the direction of the hill he mentioned before, then turned to Adar and kneeled beside him. She could feel his skin burning from the fever. The herb should have avoided infection, so there must certainly be something else going on in his body. She tried to place her hands on his chest and forehead again, like she had done the night before, but it didn't seem to give him any comfort.

He opened his eyes and looked into hers intensely. For a moment, she glimpsed that green gentleness of the old Elf again. Then he grabbed her hand, squeezing it in his with so much strength that she could hardly contain an exclamation. "Don't let him win, Lady Galadriel" he said, "He has to be destroyed, at all costs. I'm not afraid of death. I've been ready to die for an age. But don't let him win". She softly moved his hair away from his damp forehead with her free hand. Adar slowly released her hand. "I might be defeated" he added with his rough, low tone, "but you're not".