I risk my life to make my name by ohboromir

---

The Meeting

---

The next morning was Yestarë again.

Galadriel had not slept peacefully. Doubt had grown in her heart, and still it lingered there, as she dressed once more in her armour, the golden belt beneath her mithril mail. She did not yet know if she believed it was powerful enough to save her – but it would be foolish to turn aside help when it was given so freely.

“Farewell, Lord Thingol, most gracious of hosts.” She stood on the steps of his manor, stern and stiff as still. “Farwell, Lady Melyanna, fairest of ladies. Thou have been most kind to me – I ask now one final kindness.”

“What might be that be, Ser Galadriel?” Thingol stood with his knights, the same ever-present pair. Melyanna leaned on his arm, a shadow under her eyes.

“If my quest should end in my death, I ask that thou send my remains to Tirion across the Mountains. My parents should have me to bury.”

“This is grim talk, Ser, but I will do as thou asks.” Thingol agreed, bidding her a final goodbye. His cheerful demeanour was soured by the occasion.

Thingol had given her directions to the centre of Nan Elmoth, though he warned her it had been some time since he had last ventured so far. The paved road soon turned to packed earth, and then the path was lost entirely, but Galadriel continued, whispering a song under her breath to steel her heart.

Nan Elmoth was a forest dark and twisted by power. The branches blocked out the sun, the trees were as thick as three men. Galadriel drew her sword to hack her way through the brambles and thorns, but her cloak did not tear even when it caught. The nettles did not sting her, perhaps proof that the belt was indeed powerful.

Galadriel walked onwards.

It seemed like it had been hours, but she was sure that it had not.

She had come to the right place; she knew it by the aura of power that radiating off this small glade. The trees twisted into a canopy above a bare patch of grass, sunlight trickling through to warm the purple and blue flowers that Galadriel did not know the name of. They bent towards the largest tree, penitents before an altar.

From the tree, the Green Woman emerged. She was as Galadriel had seen her – not headless, but living tree herself, a familiarity in those shifting eyes. Galadriel frowned. Those eyes were so familiar.

Galadriel knelt. This was her death. Ainur could survive beheadings, but elves could not. She would die with honour; she hoped this ainu would have the heart to return her body to her family, so she might be buried at sea in the fashion of her mother’s people.

“I am here to fulfil my bargain. Be swift, Lady, and let thy aim be true.”

She bowed her head.

The woman laughed, high, sharp. There was a rush of air. The axe fell.

Galadriel felt a sharp scratch at the base of her neck. Nothing more. The forest was silent. Even the ever-present nightingales did not sing. Had Melyanna’s belt saved her?

She raised her head.

The Green Woman was not standing in front of her. Melyanna was, though several feet taller, in a gown as green as the woman’s skin had been. She was smiling.

“Rise, Ser Galadriel.”

“Lady Melyanna? I do not –”

Melyanna smiled. “Melian the Maia am I, and sorceress I am. Melyanna does not exist; it was but a test devised by my husband and I.”

Galadriel rose. Her frown deepened as she replayed the events in her mind. Not once had Melyanna – Melian – seemed afraid that her husband would discover them. The entire game had been Thingol’s device, and it had been so strange. Melian had been eager to give her attention and this girdle… was it magic at all?

“But why? Why come to my grandfather’s hall at all?”

“I desired an apprentice. I knew it would be thee that chose to come. Thou art like thy mother.”

Galadriel blinked. “You knew my mother?”

“From thy father. A fellow student he was once, in the land of Irmo.”

This was a great deal of information. Galadriel frowned. She trusted Melian, she trusted that this was not a trick, it was not another test. An apprentice of a sorceress. Was that what she wanted for herself?

Look at the power Melian wields. To have just a taste of that…

“Why did you test me?”

“A student of mine must be brave. She must challenge the strange ainu that threatens her grandfather’s hall. She must show strength – my daughter I sent into thy path, so that her husband might challenge thy strength of arm.”

Tinúviel. Ser Erchamion. No one wonder the situation had seemed so strange. So calm, despite how the knight had threatened. He had given in upon his defeat in an instant, disappeared into the forest so swiftly and easily. A spell, she did not doubt it.

“Was Lady Tinúviel’s flirting a test?”

“No,” Melian laughed, “My daughter has always desired beautiful things, and thou art most beautiful, Ser Galadriel.”

She felt her face warm, to have her beauty praised by one of the Ainur.

“My apprentice must know when to show kindness; kindness broke the spell I laid on dear Celeborn.”

“It was you?” Galadriel reached for her blade, to avenge her dear Celeborn, but Melian raised a slender hand and stopped her in his tracks.

“Fear not, Celeborn agreed to play his part in my test, though he will only remember it now. I did not wish for him to spill the secret too soon.”

She relaxed, though only a little.

“Thou showed honour when thou refused my advances – I confess it was the plan for my husband to play the seductor, but thy beauty I wished to taste for myself.” Melian said, “And finally thou have shown thy faithfulness in coming here, though thou believed thou was coming to thy death.”

Galadriel swallowed. What now? She had passed this test that she had not even known were being laid out for her. She wished… she wished to be her apprentice. She wished to become more powerful, to wield a spell as well as her sword, to make a name for herself as Galadriel.

“Will thou study under me?”

“I will.” Galadriel answered, certain. A smile cracked on her lips, followed by laughter, at the absurdity of it all. To think she had been so afraid, when in face the Green Woman had desired not her death, but her beauty and her wisdom! “But my lady, I was offered a reward. Agreeing to serve you is an honour in itself, but is there naught else I might be reward with, for my faithfulness?”

Melian’s eyes darkened with desire, and she smiled, bidding Galadriel to come closer. Her kiss was as sweet as before, but more demanding, taking control of Galadriel as she grasped her by the hips. Her strength was undeniable. Galadriel felt heated already.

As Galadriel drew away, gasping, Melian did not even seem breathless. She unclasped Galadriel’s cloak and then swiftly unbuckled her armour, and Galadriel made no protest, letting Melian undress her until she was bare. The forest breeze was cool against her skin, making her shiver, Melian’s intense gaze on her,

Melian kissed her again, tangling her fingers in her hair, tugging until the golden braid came loose and her hair shrouded them in golden waves. Melian pushed her back against the tree. Galadriel moaned, as those clever hands caressed her breast again, rolling a thumb over her nipple until it was pebbled and hard.

“Lay down, sweet Galadriel.” Galadriel sank down onto the soft mossy ground, and Melian knelt between her legs. Her kisses and touches traced every inch of Galadriel’s skin.

“My lady, please…” Galadriel whined, as Melian laughed again, swallowing her moan with a kiss as she finally slipped her fingers between her legs, teasing her slick folds. Galadriel threw her head back as Melian’s fingers sank into her, two of them, curling and rubbing against the inside of her.

She felt as though her body had been set aflame, her chest tight, her chest heaving. Melian was skilled in this indeed. Her grin had turned almost wicked as she rubbed circles over Galadriel’s clit with her thumb.

“So beautiful, sweet Galadriel, so radiant, I see why dear Celeborn has fallen for thee.” She crooned, urging her towards the edge, “Perhaps we shall invite him to join us sometime, hm? Would thou like that?”

The image of Celeborn beneath her and her lady above her set a fresh fire in Galadriel’s gut, lust so all consuming she thought she might die if she did not have it fulfil, and yet Melian continued to tease her, sinking another finger inside her and bending to mouth at her breast with biting kisses, leaving reddened marks. Her ends of her soft dark hair brushed against her skin, taunting her.

“Or perhaps thou would like my lord Thingol to join us. I shall tell thee, he is quite talented, never once has he left me unsatisfied.” Melian increased the pressure of her thumb, and Galadriel keened. “Or perhaps them both, for why should we restrain ourselves? There is power in pleasure.”

“My lady, please…” Galadriel repeated desperately, rolling her hips into Melian’s fingers, wanting more. Melian crooked her fingers, and that was enough: light burst in front of Galadriel’s eyes, as she arched and wailed, taut as a bowstring. The moment dragged on, pure blinding pleasure.

Melian teased her through her climax and only withdrew her fingers as Galadriel went limp against the moss.

She licked her fingers clean daintily, and then unlaced the front of her gown, her bosom spilling out of the velvet.

“I hope thou recovers thy senses swiftly, Ser Galadriel, for it is ill manners to leave one’s lady unsatisfied.”

In later years, she would have greater adventures; a realm of her own she would forge with Celeborn by her side, a daughter she would raise and lose. Her strength and wisdom would flourish under Melian’s tutelage, and one day, a great and terrible power would be entrusted to her. A beacon in the darkness she would be and in the end, she would return home in glory.

But for now, she would remain simply Ser Galadriel.

---

Chapter End Notes

This was so fun to write prompt OP, your prompt lived in my head for weeks and I finally had time to write something for it! I hope you enjoy it! There should be more Arthuriana inspired Silm fic haha.

Title is a line from Gawain by The Trials of Cato