Rising Star, Falling Darkness: Part VI
by Camilla Sandman
-----

Tall.

Tall stood Mount Doom as it hissed and flickered, spitting out lava high into the air. The glow from the lava was the only light, a reddish light that was reminiscent of blood. It bathed them all as they struggled forward in the harsh landscape.

The wind had grown in magnitude, whipping against their skin and making each step a struggle. Ash fell, almost like snow, covering the ground in a fine layer. The air smelled of fire and decay.

They had walked and climbed and run, covering a great distance with their weary feet. Galadriel could hardly feel anything beside the throbbing pain of her legs and the numb pain of her heart. But they had to move, had to find Frodo, had to.

Gimli and Legolas were looking to her for hope and guidance, but to whom could she look?

The sword shone brighter in her hand, and an image of Celeborn flashed before her. Beloved Celeborn, beautiful and wise and with a heart filled with moonlight and song. How she longed to see his face just once more, to hear his voice lifted in songs of faded wonders.

"I do not like this," Gimli said, interrupting her trail of thoughts. "I feel as if someone is aware of us, yet I have seen no orcs draw near."

"Nor have I," Legolas replied, his whole body tensed. He reminded her of an arrow, drawn and ready to spring.

"Mordor is home to creatures other than orcs," Galadriel said in a low voice. "Sauron attracts many evils."

She looked down at the ring, clutched tightly in her left hand. Had it already turned to evil? Had Mithrandir and Elrond felt the same call, the urging of the Eye to give in? It would end the pain, it promised.

The pain would never end as long as Celeborn was not with her. She closed her eyes, just for a second.

There was a soft hiss of air near her, and she whipped around, sword raised. Just for an instant, then she lowered it, her arms suddenly feeling limp.

"Celeborn?" she whispered, her voice shaking. It was him, yet not him, for it seemed darker, more terrible. His skin had turned to a near orcish colour, and his eyes held no light.

"Galadriel. Join me."

She shook her head frantically, feeling her heart pound so loudly it hurt. Not this. Anything but this.

The being advanced on her, and she tried to lift her arms, but they had no strength. The light in the sword dulled and it seemed to turn red. Blood? It was blood, red blood as that of an Elf or Human. It dripped from the blade now, gathering in a pool beneath her feet.

She began to sink into it; it seemed to have hands tearing at her dress, leaving red traces. It stuck to her skin, moving slightly as if it were alive. Living blood.

Icy fingers touched her hand, and dead eyes stared into hers. Celeborn - no, not Celeborn, it could not be Celeborn, it could *not* - was smiling at her, a hollow, empty smile. No, not a smile, a grimace. A mask.

Her head felt dizzy, and almost as if it was filled with hot liquid. She felt like she was floating in lava for a second, her skin burning. Flames licked at her feet.

The ground opened beneath them and she fell and fell, desperately grasping for something to cling to. But slippery rocks and wet dirt were no help and she could not get a good grip.

The ground closed soundlessly above her, shutting off the reddish light, and there was only the dark, cold Earth.

"We are together now," Celeborn whispered.

She tried to scream, but no sound would come out. She clawed at the dirt, but still she kept sinking. And she was cold, so very cold. Everything was cold, and she began to feel limp.

With her last strength, she flung out an arm, and was rewarded with a soft "Omph". It sounded - not Elvish, but rather Dwarfish. She blinked. The feeling of cold Earth vanished in a puff and the illusion unravelled.

The worried faces of Legolas and Gimli were looking down at her, Gimli clutching his nose.

"Galadriel?" Legolas asked softly. She realised she had fallen to the ground, but there was no blood. No Celeborn. No hole in the ground that had swallowed her.

But in her hand the ring felt hot, almost so hot it hurt to hold.

She took the offered hand, and got up on her feet. The sword lay a few feet away, she must have dropped it. It still shone, and the only blood on it was the dark remains from the orcs it had felled.

Not real. Celeborn was dead, and Saruon did not own her. Not yet.

Not yet. She looked at Gimli, and lifted her hand gently to touch his bruise on the nose.

"I have suffered far worse, lady Galadriel," he muttered, his clear eyes filled with nothing but concern.

"Before this is over pain may have a new meaning to us all, Gimli, son of Glóin."

Her glance lifted to Legolas, who had picked up her sword. He looked almost silver in the light from it. His hand was trembling slightly as he handed her the sword.

And the Eye laughed in her mind, whispering in his foul language. She did not need to understand the words to know what he was saying.

'You will be mine soon. Soon.'

But not yet.

| Part VII |
| Index |