The Song of Eleanor -- A Rings of Power Story

Moth to a flame I

[this picture is not mine, but kuddos to the author, it's an absolute masterpiece] [also imagine that it is an Elf and that it is Elanor]

Alright, before we start, I'll advise you to listen to Moth To A Flame by The Weeknd and Swedish House Mafia because I was listening to it the other day, and this first part came to me :) Enjoy!

Tirharad, Southlands, Middle Earth

Elanor of Aman, the High Commander, Halbrand repeated to himself within the secrecy of his mind as he stared at the She-Elf. He noted she was as tall as him, and it seemed that her limbs were gracefully carved with slender yet strong muscles. His eyes moved slowly over her silhouette as she walked inside the pigpen, her black eyes already settled far in front of her, searching for something — someone.

She was beauty, Halbrand couldn't help but observe. It was not beauty in the way Galadriel was — all gold and sunshine, shining so brightly it was blinding, even when she was glaring at him. No, Elanor of Aman had deep caramel skin that glowed even with the filth covering her, similarly to liquid gold under unrefined metal, and eyes so deep, so dark that her gaze seemed as endless, as profound as the midnight sky. It even shone with its thousand stars. However, what caught Halbrand's eyes was not Elanor's apparent beauty, for anyone would be drawn to it, but it was the aura of pure and utter power surrounding her as she walked. It was similar to a halo. Not white or bright, like Galadriel's, he found himself comparing, but far darker, far mightier. It was vibrating around her with each movement of her limbs, with each blink of her eyes. It was so potent that it felt like a fist was thumping against his chest repeatedly.

The feeling was addicting, and Halbrand felt himself take a step closer as if he had suddenly turned into a moth and was impossibly attracted to Elanor's fire.

He wondered if her darkness was usual for an Elf, but then, he did not truly care. Perhaps, it was, and he was just lacking knowledge; all Elves could not possibly be or look like Galadriel — even if, so far, it had seemed to be the case. However, then, Elanor appeared far more puissant than her kin, and perhaps, it was because of that darkness he felt coming from within her. As he stared from his place, he felt as if her darkness came from experience, for she walked with the grace and the confidence of those who had seen and felt utter despair and pain. He remembered what Galadriel had told him about Elanor, that she was not her sister by blood, that she was of the first orphans, and that she had been torn apart from her family because of the war against the Great Foe. Perhaps Elanor's darkness came from the memories of that time and the centuries she had then spent on the battlefield.

Halbrand easily recognised his own fascination for the She-Elf as he watched her halt at the entrance, her long brown hair falling over her shoulders and back in waves, her black eyes fixating something far ahead. He guessed she was staring at Adar, the prisoner. He wanted to talk to Elanor. He wanted to be subjected to her full attention, to be under that dark stare, just to know how it felt. Thus, he stepped farther out of the shadows he had been hiding and smiled, hoping to greet the Elven beauty in front of him.