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hailturinturambar · 4 months ago

Text

Arrows and Thorns.

Pairing: Adar x Galadriel

Word count: 4.694

Request: “I was wondering.. "Louder, love" for these two :3 smut or no smut & everything else however you wanna write, as per your comfort OP 🙈”

Author's Notes: English is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes or confusion. Requests are open, check the information before requesting. I have to say, this is delightfully furious. Is this what happens when the tension is so great between two enemies that they have no other way to relieve it but in each other's arms?

Warnings: 18+, MDNI. Unprotected sex, p in v. Rough sex. Punitive sex. Incorrect use of handcuffs. Manipulation. Possible coercion. They hate each other so much that they fuck, hard.

Summary: When the Company of Elves of Lindon is scattered and Galadriel is taken hostage by the Uruks of Adar, Galadriel must find a safe way to escape. And most importantly, a way to save the Elves of Eregion from the Children of Adar. She has no choice, of course, but to seduce her enemy.

In the darkness of Middle-earth, as Elves and Men sheltered from the night and the terrible creatures that lurked within it, the chanting of a battalion of Orcs could be heard. They were ready for battle, Galadriel thought, noting the torches they carried.

Camnir panted nervously as Elrond covered his mouth. Galadriel touched the arrow wound, hoping it would be enough, that he could be safe. He could not stay behind, and it would be impossible to leave with a wounded Elf. The sound of the arrow breaking caught Elrond's attention, and he stared in astonishment at Camnir's now healed wound.

The heavy footsteps of the Orcs were approaching. But the battalion remained ready, waiting. They were marching towards Eregion, seeking revenge. Searching for Sauron. Galadriel knew where Sauron was, she could no longer deny the truth to herself, even though her heart was heavy at the thought of all the Elves of Eregion. At the thought of the danger Celebrimbor was in at the hands of the Great Deceiver.

But Adar would not give up, not when he was so close to reaching Sauron, to destroying the Dark Lord once and for all, even if the Elves were to perish. Galadriel, however, could not let the people of Eregion suffer for a mistake she had made. She should never have trusted Halbrand. Sauron. She knew that now, but it was too late. She would right her wrong.

Galadriel had no choice but to sacrifice herself. This battle was hers, because she had not defeated Sauron when she had the chance. When he had told her who he really was, and she was paying for her mistake now.

The Orcs who remained behind took their torches, searching for the Elves. They could smell them, they said. They would not rest until they found the Elves of Lindon. Galadriel reached into her quiver and counted her arrows. They would have to do, for now. She needed to protect Elrond and Nenya.

A head-on attack, while the Elves fled to the protection of Gil-galad. The Orcs, Galadriel thought, seemed alone without Adar's watchful eye. And the Orcs were never so powerful without the orders of a leader. Someone to guide their wicked and cruel path.

Galadriel walked confidently towards the Orcs, who hissed when they saw her. But Galadriel did not care, hearing that Elrond was already too far away for the Orcs to split into two groups. So Galadriel attacked.

She was fast, strong, and brave. She had been born for this. She had spent endless centuries fighting the forces of darkness. Their arrows and swords were no match for her, as she shot at them, throwing small daggers.

There were many of them, Galadriel realized, more than she had expected. But she could destroy each one of them. She had been fighting the Orcs for a long time. She ran, reaching the nearest horse, without stopping to fire at the Orcs.

They were fierce, furious in their attacks, but Galadriel was angrier than all of them. And she was relentless, launching arrows and dodging the blows. Even as more Orcs arrived, Galadriel did not stop her attack.

She galloped on, charging at the Orcs, completely oblivious to what was happening around her. All Galadriel could see was flames and arrows, blood and death. There were too many of them, and she was alone. But she did not give up.

Now, they looked fearful, surprised by her strength. Galadriel, mounted on her horse, watched the Orcs who looked at her with disgust, but also fear. Because they knew that she was too strong to be defeated by them.

Before Galadriel, they stopped, surrounding her, roaring and growling. But suspicious, not approaching. What were they waiting for? She thought, believing that this would be her victory. While the Orcs hesitated to attack, Galadriel was confident. Perhaps, too confident. Because she had not realized that she was at a disadvantage.

“These are Elven lands.” Galadriel said, furiously. “Go back to the shadow.”

Galadriel wasted no time, riding towards them. It was her last chance, while they were not brave enough. She was getting closer and closer to them, when a long chain was thrown at her, wrapping itself around her arm.

Galadriel gasped, falling hard from her horse, her body slamming into the hard forest floor. She reached desperately for her quiver, for her bow, before her enemy could reach her. She let the arrow touch the fallen flame and turned toward her captor.

The flaming arrow was loosed, but an armored hand reached out and extinguished the fire before Galadriel’s eyes. In amazement, she looked up at Adar, who was staring at her calmly, as if he had expected her slight slip-up. It was a trap, Galadriel thought too late.

“A star shines at the hour of our meeting.” Adar said in Quenya. “Lady Alatáriel.”

Galadriel screamed, feeling the Orcs' hands wrap around her arms, dragging her away from Adar. She tried to struggle, but they pulled her tight. She reached for the arrows once more, but her arms were pulled back, and she felt the shackles encircling her wrists.

Calmly, Adar walked away from Galadriel, while the Orcs, his Uruks, tied her to a wagon that Galadriel had never seen before. It was no ordinary wagon, more like a small dungeon. A safe place where they could throw Galadriel so she wouldn't escape from them.

She didn’t try to run away, she knew she had no chance against them, not while she was trapped. So he waited, patiently. Weeks or days might have passed, she didn’t know. A long cloth covered the wagon. They had been alone in the forest for most of the journey. Far from anyone who could help Galadriel.

The Orcs were growling, shouting at each other in Black Speech. They were not marching to Eregion, not anymore. They were, she tried to make out, taking a small detour. Galadriel snorted, kicking the wagon. It didn’t matter, she had to be patient.

And Galadriel was terrible at being patient, the battle rage still burning in her chest. She needed to escape and warn Elrond, even warn Celebrimbor if possible. She just needed to find a way to escape. The Orcs had removed Galadriel's shackles, but it still wasn't enough.

After so long trapped in the dark, Galadriel felt the wagon come to an abrupt stop. The Orcs laughed maliciously, and Galadriel noticed that the cloth covering her small dungeon had finally been pulled away. They laughed even harder, pointing their spears at her.

When the lock was broken, Galadriel left her small captivity and surveyed the space around her. It looked like a camp, almost underground, hidden in the darkness of the forest. Adar's camp, Galadriel thought.

The Orcs made no attempt to attack her, but they continued to surround Galadriel. One Orc, taller than the others, approached. Galadriel suspected he was the leader. She remained calm, even as he pulled her by the hair, placing the rotten blade of his sword against her face.

An armored hand grabbed the orc's arm, pushing Glûg's sword away. Adar. Galadriel, quick as an arrow, reached for the blade she had hidden in her golden curls, and pulled Adar away. Her hand reached for his neck, holding him so close to her that she could feel his breath as she pointed the blade at him.

But Adar did not try to defend himself, he did not even try to move away from her, even when Galadriel turned him so that he served as a shield, so that his body protected hers. The Orcs growled, but did not approach her.

Adar, at the mercy of Galadriel's arms, just watched her. She was at a disadvantage, but she kept fighting. And for some reason, Adar liked that. He slowly turned his face toward hers, almost feeling the skin of her pale face against his.

“I brought you here, not as a prisoner.” Adar whispered to her, in Sindarin. “But as a potential ally.”

Those words, in Elvish, were for Galadriel and Galadriel alone. What was Adar trying to prove? She wondered. Maybe he wanted to show her that they were alike, that she could trust him. But Galadriel would never trust Adar.

”For we share a common enemy.”

Galadriel looked at Adar in surprise. He seemed even closer than before, as if he was drawn to her and didn't even realize he was so close to her face. The orcs did not seem pleased with Adar's lack of struggle. They did not agree with the Lord Father's plan.

“Is this your best way to convince me, Orc?” Galadriel practically spat, pushing Adar away from her.

Adar looked at Galadriel, raising his hand to the Orcs. They were not to attack Galadriel without his direct orders. In the Black Speech, he had ordered Galadriel to be taken to his tent. She railed against Adar, against the Orcs, against Sauron himself. She would not be held hostage, not by Adar.

For countless hours, Galadriel waited alone for Adar to arrive. Alone in the tent, she tried to pull at the shackles, but despite their rotten and worn appearance, they were completely sturdy.

Confused, Galadriel watched the Orcs silently enter the tent, their hands full of food. Galadriel, astonished, laughed to herself in the tent. So, Adar really was making dinner, while she remained shackled, trapped like an animal. She snorted, furious. She was the special guest of this horror.

When Adar arrived, Galadriel remained silent, she was determined to test Adar's patience, to see how much it would take for him to tell her his plan. Because Galadriel had no intention of being of any use to Adar.

Unlike Galadriel, Adar was completely relaxed, even at ease. He knew deep down that she couldn't run away, and he wouldn't let her leave until she told him everything she knew about Sauron. Sighing, Adar looked at Galadriel.

“During my brief time in your capture, you seemed intent on finding Sauron.” Adar murmured, memories flooding back.

Uncomfortable, Galadriel shifted. Apprehensive, yes, she was. Because she remembered that fury, that rage, how everything had seemed red as blood. Because all she could think about was finding Sauron and destroying his influence forever.

“One might even say, consumed by it, the way one always is, once he has wormed his way inside your mind.”

“You know nothing of my mind.” Said Galadriel, with disdain. “You yielded to him. I resisted.”

Galadriel hadn’t given in to Sauron, had she? She trusted Halbrand and believed him to be who he said he was. She would never have helped Sauron. But to Adar, that didn’t matter.

Because once Sauron had gained her trust, it was nearly impossible to stay away from his influence. And Adar, more than anyone else in Middle-earth, knew how persuasive Sauron could be.

How Sauron was able to flood the strongest mind with his will, and cloud his victim's vision, distorting right and wrong. Galadriel, Adar thought, was reluctant to accept this truth, to accept that she had been deceived by Sauron.

He did not give up, however, on gaining Galadriel's trust. Because Adar needed her help, the Rings that the Elves carried. In the fight against Sauron, the Orcs, the Uruks, his children, would not be enough. Sauron had returned more powerful than before.

Galadriel was on the defensive, furious at Adar's words. It was not easy for her, for the Commander of the High King Gil-galad, to accept that she had been deceived by the Dark Lord. But Adar knew that feeling and he understood Galadriel. Perhaps, he was the only one in all of Middle-earth who understood her completely.

“I can help you destroy Sauron.” Adar said.

His voice was firm, resolute. Confident. Hidden in the camp, Adar held the only weapon capable of defeating Sauron once and for all, of destroying the last remnants of his wicked Shadow.

“What help could you possibly provide, Orc?” Galadriel snapped, with disgust. With fury.

“Uruk.” Adar said in Black Speech, disappointed.

Adar silently stood up, walking to the back of the tent. In the small box hidden there was Morgoth's Crown. The wicked, evil-laden crown of the first Dark Lord, and Adar had kept it. For all this time.

Galadriel, terrified, tried to pull away. She could feel the evil trapped in the crown. That crown that had been on Morgoth's head, while he destroyed Elves and Men throughout Middle-earth. Galadriel gasped, seeing Adar approaching with the crown.

But she did not speak to him, and let him talk about his new attempt to defeat Sauron. She could not stay there any longer, she could not bear to be trapped in that tent any longer. And she was only able to breathe again when Adar left.

In Adar's absence, Galadriel thought of an escape plan, a way to free herself from her chains. She knew, in fact, how to shake Adar's trust. How to make him believe they were on the same side. She waited for him to return.

“Yes. Halbrand is Sauron.” She whispered those words as Adar entered the tent.

Perhaps she was desperate, looking for any chance to escape. But she had no choice. Eregion was in danger, all the Elves of Middle-earth were in great danger. She needed to warn Elrond. Silently, Adar listened to Galadriel's words, her desperate speech.

“Us?” Adar whispered, confused.

Galadriel's words made no sense to Adar. She had been so determined before to save Eregion and destroy Sauron alone. She did not like his children, the Uruks, and she did not trust Adar. So why the change of heart?

“Unlock me.” Galadriel demanded, rattling the chains.

Like a predator on the prowl, Adar stalked toward Galadriel. This was her chance, Galadriel thought, as Adar removed the shackles. He was looking at her differently. Almost with desire. He was silent for a long time, watching Galadriel.

“As we speak, Elrond rises from Lindon with an army of Elves.” Galadriel whispered. “And Nenya, my Ring.”

Adar seemed little to hear Galadriel's words, he was so intent on her face. It was as if he stood before the very light of Valinor, and Galadriel's golden hair lit up all Middle-earth.

“I see.” Breaking the trance, he whispered, turning his back to Galadriel.

When Adar turned his back on Galadriel, she wasted no time in running after the Lord Father. Adar, it seemed to Galadriel, was reluctant to believe her words, her attempts to hold back Adar's army.

She wanted to save Celebrimbor from the siege of Eregion, but would Adar be willing to take such a great risk? Would Gil-galad even protect the Uruks? No, he could not be sure of any of that, so he could not trust Galadriel's words.

And Galadriel would not hear Adar's words, because she could not bear those words, about the destruction of the Elves of Eregion and the growing power of Sauron. No, she would not accept it. She would stop all of this, no matter the cost.

“You speak lies.” Galadriel murmured, feeling the tears fighting to escape.

Adar smiled slightly, realizing Galadriel’s mistake. Two could play that game, Adar thought, stepping even closer to her. He didn’t take his eyes off her, not even for a split second.

“You have already revealed everything I hoped you would and more.” Adar whispered to her. “Hoping I will reveal something.”

When Adar turned his back on Galadriel, ready to leave her alone in the tent while he left for Eregion, she ran towards him. Honestly, Galadriel had not planned what to do when she reached Adar. But, she was desperate, what else was she supposed to do?

Galadriel’s hand touched Adar’s arm, and he stopped walking abruptly. Surprised, he turned to Galadriel, only to feel her lips against his.

It was an interesting way, Adar thought, for Galadriel to try to delay the Uruks’ attack. But he certainly wasn’t complaining. Galadriel’s lips against his were sweet, divine, so elvish. A majestic, delicate touch that Adar had forgotten, if he had ever felt it.

Galadriel released Adar's arm, so that her arms could wrap around his neck, and pull him as close as possible. What surprised Galadriel, however, was that Adar was not reluctant, he was not even trying to push her away.

Adar was more than happy to return Galadriel's kiss, bringing his hands to her waist and holding them tightly. Adar would be lying, of course, if he said he hadn't thought about Galadriel since she had taken him hostage. He still remembered that day vividly.

When she ranted against him, against his children. She looked so furious. She looked so majestic and powerful before him, as if she were above him. And when her dagger pierced his neck, he was sure he was fascinated by her.

And he remained fascinated by Galadriel, feeling her tongue against his. Maybe, Adar thought, she was using him. But did it really matter? It felt good to feel her body close to his, to feel her lips against his. She felt so soft against his touch.

“Do you still need to leave, Adar?” Galadriel whispered, breaking the kiss.

With his face so close to hers, Adar could feel Galadriel’s breath on his face. Her scent, like that of the purest forest, was intoxicating his mind. All he could think about was her. The war could wait a little longer, he thought.

“Is that your best way to convince me, Lady Altáriel?” He whispered back.

Confident, Galadriel laughed, stepping away from Adar. But he would not give up, not now that he had her in his hands, now that he had the powerful Lady Galadriel willing to give herself to him for peace. But Galadriel kept her back to him. Adar wasted no time.

Adar's hands reached for Galadriel, pulling her back against his body. He kissed Galadriel with passion, with desire, completely lost in her. In everything about her. Even the way she kissed him so fiercely was making it hard for Adar not to become completely addicted to her.

That game, however, would be commanded by Galadriel, she would not let Adar feel in control. She broke the kiss, pushing his hands away. But she did not stay away from him. On the contrary, she held his hand, pulling him to the table where they had dined not long ago.

Galadriel pushed Adar, forcing him to sit in the chair that had previously been hers, while she sat on his lap. Adar admired Galadriel as she took control, as she kept the Lord Father as a servant at her beck and call, to take her orders. Adar wanted her to take control, to do with him as she wished. He was content to give in to her.

Adar groaned, feeling Galadriel rub herself against him. Hatred really could be an interesting way to relieve itself with kisses. Adar's hands moved up to Galadriel's waist, but she bit his lip in reprimand, stopping her movement against him.

“Keep your hands to yourself, Uruk.”

Without Adar noticing, Galadriel's hands reached the handcuffs, trapping Adar's hands. No, he couldn't touch her, she was still deeply furious with him. But that didn't stop her from kissing him even more eagerly, as if desire clouded her mind.

She moaned against his lips, deepening the kiss, deepening her movements against him. It felt so good, even though it was still so wrong, and she felt so good.

And Adar didn't even care, he was just letting her get as excited as she wanted, as much as she wanted. He wasn't even interrupting her, lost in her movements.

“Adar.” She moaned, as he tried to bring her lips to his once more.

She, however, did not let him, bringing her lips to his pale, scarred neck. Scars caused while he was a servant of Morgoth. And now, feeling her gentle, delicate lips, of an Elf, against the mark of Morgoth's malice, made Adar even more enchanted by her.

Galadriel’s kisses were determined, confident, like her. She gave small bites, her tongue tracing his skin. She felt hot, in that damned outfit she had worn in Lindon. She felt overdressed now.

“Galadriel.” He moaned louder as she bit his neck.

Galadriel, Adar thought, was always in control. Always keeping him at her mercy. And Adar didn't try to push Galadriel away, he just groaned as she moved her hips harder, biting harder into his neck.

“Is this how you treat your allies?” She chuckled, giving a small moan as Adar rubbed himself against her.

He did not answer, admiring her wicked smile. Galadriel, to Adar's eyes, did not seem wicked. She seemed cruelly irresistible, and Sauron was mad to have betrayed her trust. But Adar would be different.

“And is it so that you think, Galadriel, that I will not attack Eregion?” Adar said hoarsely.

Galadriel shook her head, lifting herself from his lap, and he groaned at the loss of contact, at the lack of her weight on him. Galadriel's hands found her golden curls, and she released the last braid that remained in her hair, while she looked at Adar coldly.

“How could you attack Eregion?” She asked. “Haven’t you realized yet, Adar, that you are shackled and cannot escape?”

Adar could have given countless answers, but he remained silent, watching, in awe. With her hair completely loose, golden strands were everywhere, and Galadriel looked more divine, more saintly than ever.

Her hands, calmly and gently, ran over the gray uniform of Lindon's company, slowly undressing, for Adar. His hands were exposed, and his nails scratched the chair, as he was forced to watch from a distance, unable to touch Galadriel's glowing skin.

Slowly, Galadriel approached Adar, but his eyes never left her body, as if he was desperate, hungry, to take in every detail of her. Every curve, every bit of skin she was gloriously exposing to him.

Her hands, with the same delicacy as before, like a serpent that is gentle during attack, reached for Adar's robes, removing his armor, and throwing it onto the tent floor with a loud noise.

“You know, Adar,” She murmured. “I never thought I could leave the Lord Father so speechless.”

Oh, and she had indeed left him speechless. Naked before him, stripping Adar while he was shackled, she could have plunged a dagger into his chest, and he would not have minded. He would have perished, gladly, if it were by Galadriel's golden hands.

Once Galadriel had finally gotten rid of all of Adar's clothes, she let her hands roam over his pale chest, tracing each of his scars. Siren, she seemed, to Adar. He was enchanted, he was fascinated. He even wanted to die by her hands.

“Adar.” She whispered softly, moving closer to him and his eyes were lost in her.

When Galadriel sat on Adar, they groaned at the same time, and he pulled his hands against the shackles, but they did not give. Galadriel smiled at him, reaching her hands up into the Uruk's dark hair and pulling hard.

“Why don’t you admit that you always wanted to be mine?” She whispered.

“How could I not want to be yours, Lady Galadriel?”

She moaned, kissing Adar, and he kissed her back with the same fervor. Because it wasn't about love, about affection or care. But about lust and desire, devotion and anger.

Galadriel moaned against Adar's lips, rubbing herself against him, feeling how he seemed to complete everything in her, how she felt so complete with him inside her. They might be enemies, but it felt so good, she couldn't stop.

Her hands were lost in Adar’s messy hair, and he could only groan against the kiss as Commander Galadriel ravaged his body to her own desire. All he could feel was how good she felt to him, riding him like she could drive Morgoth’s curse from him.

“Adar, Adar.” She moaned breathlessly against his lips.

To Adar, Galadriel looked like a queen sitting on a throne. She deserved a throne, he thought. Galadriel's golden hair fell against the Uruk's face, but he did not stop kissing her, bewitched by her body, by the golden hair that seemed so much like redemption to him.

She was panting against him, pulling his hair so hard, but he didn't care. Because he had never seen Galadriel so free, so radiant, as she was now as she sat on him so furiously and so lustfully at the same time.

“Louder, love.” He whispered against her lips, as Galadriel shuddered against him.

But, Galadriel didn't need those words to give in to euphoria, cumming against Adar, stopping her movements, without moving away from him. She wasn't satisfied yet. Because she was so angry with him, that she couldn't stop rubbing herself against him, as if that could lessen her anger.

Lost in her own pleasure, Galadriel didn't notice when Adar pulled so hard on her hands that the handcuffs gave way. Galadriel's back arched as she felt Adar's cold hands on her waist, now controlling her movements.

Adar's lips were everywhere now. He kissed her neck passionately, licking her glowing skin, which still held the glow of Valinor, the purity of the Land of the Valar. And his teeth, marked by malice, bit her skin, hard, savoring her moans against him.

Galadriel's nails scratched Adar's back as his kisses trailed down her collarbone, his tongue tracing her skin to her breasts. The taste of her skin was divine, everything about Galadriel was divine.

She moaned shamelessly against him, scratching him so hard he knew he would be scarred and he didn't care. She gasped when his lips reached her breasts, kissing, biting, all at the same time. Because he couldn't settle for one, or just one thing, he was too desperate to touch her.

“Adar.” Galadriel moaned, feeling his bites on her breasts.

It felt like a lost paradise. So fascinating and yet so corrupt. She was too breathless, too desperate for his touch, and Galadriel let Adar's hands tighten around her waist, forcing her to sit stronger against him.

He wanted her to merge with him. He wanted to destroy all of Middle-earth and leave only the two of them in all of Arda, so that he could worship her body as if it were an altar and he a supplicant.

“I hate you.” Galadriel groaned.

“Then hate me with all your fury.” He whispered against her skin.

Galadriel couldn't argue with Adar's words, or rant against him, she just moaned his name again, so overwhelmed with lust that she didn't even care when he smiled, completely satisfied with her anger. All she could do was kiss him.

She moaned into the kiss, cumming against Adar, too furious to pull away from the kiss. Adar's hands on Galadriel's waist tightened as he cumming against her, bringing his lips to her neck.

With a strange tenderness, he kissed her skin gently, almost as if she mattered to him. And Galadriel, her eyes closed, kept her arms around him as she stroked his hair.

The war cry of the Uruks outside the tent roused Galadriel from her trance. She jerked her hands away from Adar as if they had been burned. She stood, turning her back to him as she picked up the discarded clothes from the tent floor.

She didn't speak to him, or even look at Adar, as he stood up and began to get dressed as well. They could pretend that none of this had happened, no one but them would know. But would they be able to forget?

When Galadriel was almost fully dressed, she noticed Adar walking away from the tent. Galadriel cursed herself, dressing as quickly as she could. Lost in the thorny lust, she had truly believed she had convinced Adar.

That she had managed to change his heart, that she had turned him away from the blind desire for revenge against Sauron. However, Galadriel realized how wrong she had been, as she ran out of the tent after Adar.

Hm, that was inexplicable to write. I can't imagine it happening any other way, you know. Sure, Adar was ogling Galadriel all season, but he knows who's boss here. He knows.

tag: @valar-did-me-wrong @redrosesandcharmingsouls @eowyn7023

#the rings of power #trop #the lord of the rings #lotr #tolkien #adar #galadriel #adar x galadriel #adariel #my writing #writing prompt #fic prompt #my prompts

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