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fair as the sea and the sun. stronger than the foundations of earth.
the fallen maia vibes in this scene...10/10 and living rent free in my brain.
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I have been awake since before the breaking of the first silence.
im still obsessed with this scene
#sauron#galadriel#rings of power#halbrand#restlesstides#myart#trop#haladriel#(i guess haha)#the rings of power#rings of power spoilers#the reference to the music of the ainur?#mmmmm
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This trio is everything 😍
I have to admit this took me a hot minute to get over art block to finish it, but I’m really proud with how it turned out!
Sent it off to the printers today and am keen to sell these at upcoming cons later this month!
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i know we associate sauron with wolves for obvious reasons, lol, but i cant help thinking of the alternate timeline where tolkien went with his earlier concept of what’s basically catboy!sauron (complete with a magical golden collar) and we’d all just be rolling with it.
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veryyyy small detail, but Morgoth fanboy Waldreg describing Sauron as a “beautiful servant”, in his freaky “have you heard of our lord and saviour” speech to Theo, was a really nice touch (even if our guy missed the memo that Sauron means “the Abhorred” and that Mairon is where it’s at lol).
there’s the obvious allusion to Tolkien writing about Sauron taking on a fair form—but also the fact that Sauron is a Maia, who are of course servants of the Valar: because Maia literally means “the beautiful” in Quenya. It makes me pretty curious to know more about all the stories the pro-Morgoth folks had of Melkor and Sauron, and the glimmers of truth you might find amidst the distortions, in the stories they passed down through the generations.
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really really wish they dragged out the sauron/celebrimbor scenes much more: it’s different from annatar!sauron yes, but i’m also enjoying the possibilities in how the show flipped it. instead of sauron showing up claiming to be an actual emissary of the Valar, pretending to be a human blacksmith who is simply awed by celebrimbor still feels sneaky in a very sauron-y way (look at how he butters up ar-pharazon while egging on the invasion of valinor). the way his demeanour just flipped from being more prideful and sometimes snarky with galadriel— to being outright wide-eyed, admiring and reverent with celebrimbor was some delightful chameleon shit.
and because it’s like. book canon celebrimbor has a great friendship with the dwarves, he’s not from grandpa fëanor’s “we ALONE shall be the masters of the beauty and bliss of arda! no other race shall oust us!!” school of thought. of course, celebrimbor would be warm towards an admiring human blacksmith who is as enthusiastic about forging and crafting shit as he is. i would’ve ate up a whole episodes’ worth of this deceptive master-apprentice dynamic between celebrimbor and sauron lol. poor brimby genuinely being attracted to and enjoying giving a young mortal man the rare opportunity to learn about elven smithing! delighting in how “halbrand” finds even the stuff elven smiths might take for granted fascinating and wonderful! while sauron is both legitimately enjoying being back in his element and manipulating celebrimbor by recycling his greatest ‘im just a wide-eyed student’ hits from when he was an apprentice of Aulë. one could even throw in some fond, melancholic celebrimbor thoughts about “halbrand’s” supposed “mortality” and how he will never have all the ages celebrimbor has to refine his craft for garnish, lmao. the eventual betrayal vibes would’ve been so delicious.
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ngl another reason i enjoy the deepened galadriel-sauron dynamic in rings of power is because them having a personal r/ship enhances how you can view galadriel’s actions as being a parallel, yet also a contrast, to sauron’s— by the time of frodo’s journey in the fellowship of the ring. we all know sauron will be up to his sneaky Lord of Gifts/Annatar bullshit handing out dubious jewellery and whispering into the ears of kings to worship Melkor. in the fellowship of the ring? why, there’s Galadriel giving gifts and wise counsel to all the members of the fellowship. the whole emphasis on the gifts of galadriel is really a whole thing. it’s like lord of gifts? lol, fuck off. she’s gonna do it better than that messy maia.
#sauron#galadriel#trop#rings of power#the rings of power#meta#like obviously its alr There in the books#but her literal rejection of sauron being literal and up close#just makes it better
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sauron, who has seen the very light of the silmarils in morgoth’s crown, deep into his ‘im just a humble mortal southlander smith-king’ con, wandering barefoot into celebrimbor’s workshop going all ‘The Celebrimbor? 😳...these gemstones....ive never seen anything like them before 😳😳 what do you intend to use them for...😳😳’. buttered up fëanor’s grandson like a breakfast toast and celebrimbor enjoyed every stroke of that knife
#rings of power#celebrimbor#sauron#halbrand#im always here for the original annatar storyline but#This incarnation is also incredibly amusing and entertaining#shitpost#rewatching his scenes with celebrimbor just gets funnier and funnier#celebrimbor getting taken in by sauron masquerading as a young hunky human blacksmith ? yeah we can run with that too#im here for all the silvergifting lets go
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Alatairë
characters: Galadriel, Sauron / Mairon / Halbrand
content notes: warning for implied/referenced suicide, but no explicit violence, sauron being deceptive as always. shipping-wise, there is definitely a Galadriel/Sauron | Mairon dynamic in this fic, but it’s on the lighter side. set after the storm, but before Elendil rescues them at the end of episode 2, 1.8k words.
summary: Mairon and Galadriel talk, as night falls on the Sundering Seas.
Read on AO3
She is sitting upright, the long fall of her golden hair now a silvery tinge under the moonlight, her left hand stiffly clutching one of the wooden beams protruding from their pitiful makeshift raft, as it bobs along, small and insignificant amidst the vastness of Ulmo’s domain.
“Didn’t you think it futile?" He asks idly, breaking the silence that had befallen them with the twilight. "Or perhaps, you were not thinking at all.”
The tumult of the earlier storm has mercifully abated, but the flimsy, ragged tunic he is in remains drenched, and the flesh of this mortal raiment he has donned feels the sharp, biting chill of the sea-winds. It is not enough to disable him of course, but it is just a little more uncomfortable than he would prefer. He is a being at home with the blazing heat of a furnace, with flame and the hard strike of iron, not the treacherous fluidity of the waters of Arda. It both draws in and repulses him; for it is where the echo of the Music of the Ainur lives, but is also fundamentally at odds with his nature.
She starts, turning to face him over the curve of her shoulder, but her countenance is still, as cool and stiff as marble. “I am afraid I do not take your meaning.”
“In your words, rather than rest in glory—you wanted to return to Middle Earth,” Mairon replies. “Your kind ostensibly has far greater endurance than mine.” Internally, he cannot help a flicker of amusement at the irony—but he will give nothing away, that he is anything other than this battered mortal guise. “But surely, given how far out we are, it must have occurred to you that swimming the length of the great seas would still be nigh impossible, even before you leapt from your ship. So, was it a rash choice you made, moving before thought?”
Her blue eyes flick away from his gaze, towards the brooding dark of the seas beyond. She lifts her chin. “I do not think this is a question to which I owe you an answer.”
The moment she had named herself, he had known, of course. Galadriel, or Artanis, as she had been in Valinor. Kin to Fëanor, that same Noldorin pride burning in their veins, except that her hair is as bright and shining as Fëanor's had been night-dark. Bright, like her brother's had been, even in the dungeons of Tol-in-Gaurhoth, as were all who hailed from the Golden House of Finarfin.
“A curious thing to say Elf, given that I saved your life—and at considerable risk to myself,” He replies nonchalantly. Above, the stars are rising, now and then obscured by the passing clouds. “And would not have had to, if you had not deserted your ship.”
It is not all a lie. The waters of the Sundering Seas are Ulmo’s to command, and he is not so prideful to presume that this humble, rougher mortal body that he has constructed for himself has perfectly hidden the brilliant majesty that is an Ainu’s true being from their kin, from the far-reaching senses of Ossë and Uinen.
Something in her expression shifts. She has some skill at concealing her innermost thoughts, but not even the eyes and intuition of the Eldar are keener than that of the Ainur.
“I am in your debt for that.” It is something like a mixture of guilt and shame, he thinks, that is in the line of her eyes and jaw. Then, “It was my duty to return to Middle Earth. The ship would not turn back.” She pushes a wet lock of hair out of her eyes. “That is all.”
Even now, with the clouds partially obscuring Tilion’s passage across the heavens above, her hair shines, silvery-gold like the dews in the long-gone wells of Varda. Up close, he can understand why Fëanor had been lost in obsessive fascination, why the Eldar had proclaimed that her tresses had ensnared within them the light of the Two Trees of Valinor. Why Fëanor had been inspired to wrought the very Silmarils that his old master had sought with such fervour.
“That is not much of an answer, Elf.” In other ages, he has unravelled and charmed the minds of others to get them to divulge their innermost thoughts, but it would be unwise and a waste of an opportunity here, with one of the Eldar. And with one who had pursued him for centuries, at that. All the same, he cannot help it, goading her. The Children of Ilúvatar have always frustrated him, in their fickle-mindedness, irrationality and refusal to submit themselves to the order of powers greater than themselves. “Perhaps, you truly wished to die. To let the waters take you, before my companions and I came across you. To be at ease in oblivion."
It would not after all, be unprecedented in the self-destructiveness of her close kin. Vows sworn in madness, vows unable to be fulfilled—and the bright, shining light of a Silmaril hurled into a fiery chasm alongside its vow-taker.
“Do not ascribe to me such cowardice,” Galadriel hisses, at once soft and furious. Her hair is disheveled, a shining golden-silver tangle that he cannot tear his eyes away from, the white of her robe limp against the firm strength of her lean form, and the flash of anger that has risen up seems to have temporarily driven away what weariness she felt. “I leapt from my ship because duty demanded I do so. But nor am I so arrogant to think that I am one to defy the will of the powers that govern the world. I accepted it. That either I would reach land—or, if my actions were truly folly as the Valar saw it—then, by Ulmo’s hand I would be delivered to the Halls of Mandos to be judged as all are.”
The ferocity of her righteousness, her bold claim of fearlessness in the face of judgment, the impudent likeness of the light of Laurelin and Telperion in her hair—it stirs something sharp and mocking within him. Stirs up the distasteful memory of Eönwë and his unmoved pronouncement to return across the sea, that the only absolution lay in debasing himself at the feet of Manwë.
The still-gathering power regenerating under his borrowed skin trembles. With the urge to make itself known, to make her realise exactly what he is. But he restrains it with a firm hand. He has woven this disguise well, suppressed his power within it to conceal it as best as he can from the ever-seeing gaze of Manwë and Varda after fleeing from the wastes of the north—and he will not waste it.
"'If the Valar judged it', you say. Then, what do you make of our meeting?” He allows a note of mockery to enter his tone. Being rougher in speech and manners would be perfectly in keeping with the current form of a low man that he wears. “The will of the so-called gods too?”
It is what Men would call the Valar. But all the same, it feels strange referring to them as such, when he can remember the breaking of the very first silence, of his own part in the melody that had sung the world into existence, of the time where he had simply been one of the Ainur in the Timeless Halls, existing in the light of The One. On another level, it is not a question merely asked for the sake of appearances, either. Even now, he wonders if he is being watched by the Valar and their servants, and what designs they might be weaving.
She stares at him in silence for a moment, her gaze unblinking, one hand absent-mindedly tracing the hilt of the all-too familiar dagger at her waist. “I have not yet decided.” Something in her expression softens. “But I will apologise for my earlier curtness. You saved me, and to be two is better than to be alone. I will not forget it, when we make landfall. Nor will I forget what you have told me, of what has become of your home.”
“Optimistic, are you?" There is something fascinating about it all, her lack of wariness simply because he wears the face of a mortal man. That she has sought him with a burning rage as hot as the furnaces of Aulë, but truly does not recognise the majesty and dread of his true being that he has temporarily cloaked in flesh and bone, even when it is right next to her. “As far as I can see, we are marooned out here, at the mercy of the currents, with neither food nor freshwater, passing time before our likely impending deaths. A little premature to look beyond that, isn't it?”
“There is always hope yet."
He shrugs. It is easy, after a while, to play the role of an embittered low man, to channel his own bitterness and allow her to read into it what she presumes. "Well, not in my experience, Elf."
"Be that as it may, what would it serve us now, to believe otherwise? You may not feel it, but you have survived, have you not?"
She is certainly an intriguing mix, burning with a hot, destructive fury—yet, with glimmers of calm wisdom in her being. Perhaps that is what has set her apart from Fëanor and his sons, why she has not yet been consumed by her own fire. Or perhaps it is still up in the air; perhaps she still will.
"Alright. You may have a point." He raises a brow. "So, what are we to do now?"
"You should rest,” she says, with a calm generosity that is genuine, the earlier tempest within her now somehow restrained— and all the more amusing to him, for she knows not what he truly is. “I will keep watch. I do not tire as easily, and I will be able to discern any passing ships more easily.”
“Very well.” He leans back. The inky darkness of the night sky and its constellations stare down.
He does not really need to sleep, in truth, not even in this form. The day’s ordeal has not tired him, not truly. But it would a mortal man—and so, he feigns it.
Closes his eyes, allows himself to sink into and embrace the imagined reality of the mortal body he has constructed, allows himself to drift off with the rocking of the ocean, the smell of salt and rough finish of wood underneath his fingers, under the watchful gaze of the enemy who knows him not.
Notes:
1. Alatairë: The Quenya name for the Sundering Seas.
2. Mairon: Sauron’s original name, when he was a maia of Aulë, meaning ‘the Admirable’. Quite a difference from Sauron / ‘The Abhorred’, huh? I reckon that’s how he’d think of himself at this point in Rings of Power—Mairon, the skilled maia and smith, who loved order and who could heal the world— especially if he has decided he is in a semi-repentant state, even if only in a possibly self-serving way. I definitely like the ambiguity we get in the show in that it’s hard for us to read his intentions for sure.
#galadriel#sauron#halbrand#rings of power#haladriel#the rings of power#writing#fanfic#long post#?#uhhhh is that their ship name#rings of power spoilers
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SAURON & CELEBRIMBOR
The Rings of Power | 1.08 “Alloyed”
#lmao this entire sequence#celebrimbor REALLY was all 😍 @ sauron#trop#was putty the moment sauron went 'theeeee celebrimbor???'#rings of power#galadriel#celebrimbor#sauron#rings of power spoilers
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*twirling my hair and batting my eyelashes* oh my god the celebrimbor? is he, like, around by any chance?
#honestly wouldve been happy with an entire episode of halbrand!sauron just gassing up celebrimbor lol#the short bit we got alr showed how easily sauron wrapped him around his finger#diff from annatar but celebrimbor being buttered up a younger smith who is Actually Sauron oho#and sauron just making him think all those ideas are his own#very fun#rings of power#celebrimbor#sauron
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lowkey obsessed with the deliberate dialogue choice and irony when, in Númenor, Galadriel tells Sauron Halbrand “There is no peace to be found for you here. And nor for me. No lasting peace in any path, but that which lies across the sea. I have fought for centuries, seeking to earn mine. This is how you earn yours.” like, she means “come with me to Middle Earth” here but you can read ‘across the sea’ to mean Valinor for them both. RoP Galadriel at this point rejects Valinor because she’s still tethered to her obsessive desire for vengeance—and Eönwë told Sauron after the War of Wrath, that to properly repent he had to return to Valinor and submit himself to the judgment of the Valar. Sauron being Sauron in the end was too fearful and/or prideful to do that. so in a way, lasting peace would’ve been if Galadriel and Sauron were both able to find it in themselves to return to Valinor. as we know a much wiser and older Galadriel eventually does at the end of the Third Age...while Sauron never does. unlike her, he can never stop fighting — with the consequence of hollowing himself out to being reduced to a restless but impotent spirit gnawing in the shadows until the end of time. like mmm good shit. this is def where deepening a Sauron-Galadriel dynamic really felt like it pays off and enhances subsequent events.
#rings of power#rings of power spoilers#sauron#galadriel#halbrand#meta#its all about the mirror-image and parallels#of one powerful being to another
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THE RINGS OF POWER (2022 - )
#rings of power spoilers#ahh yes#mairon himself in his method actor phase#forever laughing @ 'sauron got arrested in a streetfight in numenor'#sauron#rings of power
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HALBRAND/SAURON + text posts
#the messiest of the maiar out there#rings of power spoilers#rings of power#sauron#halbrand#lotr#tolkien#spoilers
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michael for @spnarchangelweek day 4.
since lucifer is canonically associated with light, ice and well, being the morning star, i kinda like the idea of michael being associated with black holes (gravity so powerful that it can trap even light…) and darkness (inasmuch as fire is also another aspect of him as per season 5) as the opposite to his brother. the concept of the archangels being linked to aspects of creation is also such a fun thought: the universe was dark for millions of years before the first stars formed, and michael is the oldest archangel.
#spnarchangelweek#spn#supernatural#michael#adam!michael#i really really wish s15 did more with him than what we got#sigh
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