"𝙋𝙪𝙧𝙚 𝙇𝙚𝙜𝙤𝙡𝙖𝙨 𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙮." ༄ 𝘖𝘳𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘉𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘥 │Illustrated by our Legolas Cosplay │ Sensual, detailed, romantic MEGA SPICY smut / lemon (some is skippable) ❤️ Ardalings has been over 4,000 hours in the making. Part 1 is COMPLE...
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The vernal equinox drew near. Preferring solitude of late, Galadriel wandered in a quiet part of the wood, watching as the light on the smooth trunks of the trees dwindled from a gold sheen to a pale pink. Each day and night was but a breath to her, even, steady, never ending.
An unknown force compelled Galadriel to her mirror grove. Dusk fell and she reached it just as the full moon ascended the horizon. Magical lanterns and iridescent insects gleamed and glistened throughout the wood, lending their ethereal glow to the moonlight pooling down. She knew not why, but this was the place to be that night.
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Galadriel waited upon a stone step. Moonshadows danced in the light, balmy breeze, gilding the muted green of the moss and ferns with a silvery sheen. The Lady of Light had the distinct sense she was waiting for something. Something hair-raising, unimaginable, and cosmic in proportion, the shift of an eternal tide.
At midnight, a rushing sound enveloped her ears. It was coming from her mirror. The waters within had roared suddenly to life. With graceful haste, Galadriel leapt to its side in time to witness the formation of a whirlpool. It churned around and around, funneling down, down...
At the miniature whirlpool's center a blue glow shone. The hair on the nape of her neck rose and unease curled in her stomach. Something was wrong. Very wrong.
From that point within the whirling waters, Galadriel sensed pain on a scope untold. Chaos. A world utterly changed. A world in great peril. Arda... fallen almost utterly to evil.
The flare was too sudden and jumbled for her to discern any individual setting, but the obvious pain of Arda and of trillions of struck Galadriel. She grimaced, wanting to look away, but her eyes were wide as the moon, frozen in shock. A chill wind seemed to blow through her, rattling her like a brittle reed in winter. She pressed a hand to her breast where her heart thudded and her breath shuddered. Had she been a Fae, alone without support, the empathic agony of such a scope of horrors might have killed her.
In the eye of her gift, Galadriel came aware of other beings in Middle-earth currently sensing this whirlpool phenomenon... two shadowy figures, so sinister and malicious that they incited a shudder... the familiar presence of the Istari and Elrond... others she did not know... and two young innocents. Galadriel hoped that the twins of fae had not perceived as much as she had, for untrained, the pain of so many would destroy them.
