I- The Sea Witch:

The sea witch of Endor was a fairytale told to make people cautious of the ocean and its unpredictability.

The sea witch of Endor was real, people had seen her, encountered her— lurking beneath the waves, controlling the storms that frequently broke across the ocean and wreaking havoc on many a journey.

The sea witch of Endor was a dream upon a hazy day, something half imagined, a figure half glimpsed between the salt and the spray.

Whatever she was, the sailors of Endor believed in her and her power.

Before every voyage, crews would place a small offering into the sea for her, praying for safe passage across the waves and safety against a storm or being shipwrecked.

The stories surrounding her were many and varied and went back centuries. Every port between Umbar in the south of Endor to the frozen straits of Forodwaith in the north had their own tale to tell.

Some said that the sea witch had once been a beautiful young woman called Galadriel, with sky blue eyes and long golden hair. She had been travelling on a ship with her family to meet her betrothed ahead of their wedding, when a terrible storm struck in the middle of the journey. The vessel had been easily overwhelmed by the towering waves and had sunk, drowning all on board but Galadriel. She had been left as the sole survivor, clinging to remnants of the wreckage, drifting on the open sea for days with no chance of rescue. As she lay dying, she prayed to the Valar of the sea, Ulmo, to spare her, and in return she would devote the rest of her life to his service. Ulmo had answered, rescuing her and transforming into an all powerful sea witch, who now did his bidding, and would keep her powers and this strange, magical life as long as she did.

Other stories followed a similar vein, even if her name changed—Alatáriel, Artanis, Nerwen. The sea witch had once been a beautiful young woman, caught up in a devastating tragedy at sea, her family and lover lost. With no hope of rescue, she had called out to the Valar of the sea to save her and had been turned into a powerful sea witch as a result.

One version of the tale gave her much darker origins. Galadriel had been sailing across the ocean with her new husband, Celeborn, travelling back to his homelands following their wedding. But her husband, jealous of her family’s wealth and prestige, planned to take it all for himself. One night in the middle of the voyage, Celeborn had attacked her in their cabin, bound her hands and thrown her overboard, planning to tell everyone that she had died of a fever whilst at sea and claim her full inheritance for himself. As Galadriel had sunk down beneath the waves, unable to free herself from her bonds, she had prayed to Ulmo for help and he had answered. Enraged by what had happened to Galadriel, Ulmo used her own desire for revenge and turned her into a witch, who stopped at nothing to hunt down Celeborn and everyone else who was on the ship that night. She stalked them all, no matter how far inland they tried to run (for water was everywhere) and picked them off one by one, saving Celeborn for last.

Centuries on from whatever tragedy had befallen her, Galadriel (for that was her name) still served Ulmo, but it seemed she was allowed a much freer rein over the seas, her master rarely bothering to control her magic or limit her actions. Galadriel’s will was fickle. Sometimes, in response to the smallest sleight against her, she would create terrifying storms with driving rain and towering waves to drown whole fleets in retaliation. Other times, she seemingly disappeared into the depths, and the waters remained calm and still for many months, before she would suddenly reappear just as hostile and as powerful as before.

What exactly her powers were varied depending on who you were asking and where you were in Endor.

The mariners and Corsairs in and around the tropical waters of Umbar would tell you that she was a shapeshifter. She could shift from her form as a slight, beautiful young woman with long blonde hair and vivid blue eyes, into any fish, any dolphin or any octopus out there in the deep, therefore it was imperative that you treat every creature in the ocean with respect and kindness, lest it turn out you'd treated the sea witch badly whilst in disguise, and then she would come for her revenge on you.

If you entered a tavern on the north bank of the Anduin, you would find sailors who were adamant that if you whispered your deepest, darkest desires into the cold sea air, she would seek you out to make a deal to give what you wanted. Her deals were said to be fair, unfathomable, her decision to help as unpredictable as the ocean’s moods. But every deal came with a price, and if you failed to hold your end of the bargain, then woe betide you, for the witch would find you to exact the penalty. Anyone who had attempted to find a way out of the contract they had struck with her would find their left palm stained with a black spot, a warning that you had 3 days before the witch would come for you. So, you’d best be wary of any man covering his left hand in bandages or wrappings, in case he was hiding a black spot.

If you went into a tavern on the south bank of the Anduin, the sailors there would scoff at the tales from the “simple north siders” and tell you that the sea witch didn’t hold with making deals. She would simply bewitch you and force you to carry out her bidding regardless of your own demands, and that you would be lucky to survive the ordeal.

The most common story around the Bay of Belfalas was that she used the way the ocean currents flowed around the bay to create giant whirlpools that would suck a ship down to the depths without leaving a single trace behind.

The sailors in Armenelos on the island nation of Númenor told a story that when the sea god Ulmo had turned Galadriel into a sea witch, he had cut out her heart, to ensure she could serve no other master but him. Her heart was kept locked in a wooden chest, which was now hidden somewhere out there in Endor, and if you found the chest and claimed her heart, the witch and all her powers would be yours.

As you travelled north to the Gulf of Lune and Mithlond, the fishermen there spoke in hushed tones of a dense white sea fog that would suddenly roll in off the sea, blanketing the coastline in a cloud so thick you could barely see your hand in front of your face. It was accompanied by a haunting, echoing song, luring unsuspecting men and their boats to their doom in the very heart of the fog. When the mist eventually cleared, any boat that had sailed into it would never be seen again.

The villages along the coasts of Harlindon and Forlindon said the sea witch had the gift of foresight through the use of a stone basin containing water from her original home kingdom of Lothlorien. By looking in the water contained within the basin, or her mirror, she could see any event from the past, the present, and even the future. If anyone other than Galadriel looked into the waters of the basin, they would see many things from their life, including that which had not yet come to pass.

In the furthest reaches of the Icebay of Forochel, the hardy windswept sailors huddled in their thickest furs and winter boots shuddered at the tales of terrifying ice storms and howling blizzards that would suddenly appear out of nowhere, her voice a loud and terrible shriek on the wind that would tear through a ship, before a large tentacled monster emerged from the deep to swallow the vessel whole.

Up and down Endor, in every port you would encounter at least one sailor who swore blind that they had met the sea witch, and survived to tell the tale, but often it was hard to believe them when they were so inebriated with rum they could barely stand.

And there were also further hushed forbidden whispers that if you were to kill the sea witch, all her power would pass to you, and you would be in control of the tides and the fleets of Endor. 

But all of these are just stories.

And what you are about to read is simply another in the long line of tales about the sea witch and those who would stop at nothing to find her and obtain a fraction of her power.

II- Halbrand:

Halbrand had loved the sea for as long as he could remember.

Some of his earliest memories were of being on the yellow sandy beach with his mother, Yavanna, as they collected seashells and chased each other through the surf. On warm sunny afternoons when she had finished working, she would take him to sit on the sea wall of Pelargir Harbour to watch the ships coming and going from the Bay of Belfalas and the Belegaer Sea. He would try to guess what cargo each of the ships was carrying and she would point out the different coloured merchant flags, teaching him all about the different regions on the great continent of Endor. He liked to wave at the sailors on his favourite vessels as they passed, shouting greetings at them from where he sat.

On afternoons when the ocean was iron grey and choppy, and the cold wind whipped at their faces and less ships passed by, Yavanna would hug Halbrand close and tell him tales about the sea. She would tell him about the giant squid-like monster that lurked in the depths of the Belegaer Sea with giant yellow eyes, of ghost ships manned by no one doomed to sail the oceans forever, and of the sea witch Galadriel and how she could control the waves and the storms using the power of her mirror.  

When Halbrand was five, he’d told his mother in that adamant tone of a small child already so sure of themselves that he was going to go to sea when he grew up and make his fortune, and then come back and a buy a big house on the cliff top overlooking Pelargir Harbour for them both to live in. Yavanna had laughed at this declaration, her green eyes (the same colour as his) shining with delight at her son, ruffling his auburn hair with affection.

But Yavanna had died two years later.

There was to be no big house on the cliffside for the two of them.

In the end, Halbrand had found himself going to sea by virtue of there being nowhere else for him to go; there were no other relatives to take him in. After a month staying in a home for orphaned children, the local magistrate packed Halbrand off to the Pelargir outpost of the Endor Sea Guard to become an apprentice and learn the craft of being a sailor. He had been assigned to Captain Elendil aboard the ship Nimloth. Elendil was a firm but kind man, providing Halbrand with the direction he so desperately needed after the death of his mother, and under his tuition and leadership, Halbrand flourished.

The sea, something always so important to him, now became his lifeline and the place where he always wanted to be.  

But when he was 13, Halbrand was transferred to a new ship, Angband, led by Captain Melkor, who had been the complete opposite of Elendil. Melkor had been much less focused on following the rules and regulations of the Endor Sea Guard and much more intent on breaking them and profiting from it. Throughout the rest of his teens, Halbrand watched Melkor turn a blind eye to the smuggling and piracy that happened along the coastlines of the Southlands and Gondor, where they patrolled. In fact, Melkor wasn’t just turning a blind eye to it all, Melkor was heavily involved, using Endor Sea Guard vessels to move all sorts of contraband around and exploiting local communities as a result.

Sometimes their cargo would contain mysterious objects that belonged to the strange trade in the occult that flourished across Endor. Often some of the items they were smuggling from one place to another had a dark, murky history, washed ashore from shipwrecks and forgotten worlds; a rusted compass said to be able to tell someone’s fortune; golden goblet encrusted with jewels said to provide the drinker unnaturally long life; or the skeletal remains of an ancient harpoon said give you power to defeat the sea witch.

And this was when Halbrand’s fixation with the sea witch really began.

As a child, he had heard the softer, folk stories about the witch from his mother Yavanna, and whilst apprenticed under Elendil, he’d seen how the crew left their little offerings for her, but she hadn’t been much more than a superstition to them. No one actually believed that she was real.

But aboard Melkor’s ship, tales and whispers about the witch seemed to run much more rampant. Melkor’s crew, perhaps less reined in by a captain who followed rules and regulations, seemed to believe in her more, equally fearing and envying her power. The witch was some sort of dark entity, always lurking, always there just out of reach beneath the waves. Halbrand heard her name being regularly cursed if something went wrong aboard ship or if a local fishing boat was lost to a storm, and he encountered many more mysterious artefacts linked to the witch being smuggled along the coast.

One such item had been the Sword of the Drowned King, called Narsil. It was said to have belonged to the first king of the ancient Kingdom of Gondor, Isildur, who faced the evil Warlord Sauron in a vast naval battle. With the Gondorian fleet on the verge of defeat, Isildur had devised one last attack against Sauron’s flag ship, Barad-dûr. With all the guns of the remaining Gondorian ships targeting Barad-dûr, Isildur had daringly boarded the vessel, armed only with his sword and attacked the Warlord in a surprise ambush. As the deck of Barad-dûr burned around them, the two leaders had fought in an epic battle of wills until Isildur had struck Sauron with one last mighty blow, killing him and shattering the blade in the process. Severely injured, Isildur had been unable to escape as Barad-dûr sank and had been lost beneath the waves. Isildur’s sword, Narsil had vanished in the shipwreck, until it was said to have been recovered from the seabed centuries later, now a powerful magical object due to the Gondorian’s king sacrifice.

Powerful enough even to destroy the sea witch.

Halbrand had been angry when that particular artefact had been traded away like it was nothing more than an easily replaceable cheap trinket, but he learned there were others like it still out there. Others he could still get his hands on.

As each year passed and Halbrand heard more about the sea witch, she began to become real, someone rather than something, who was out there for him to seek.

Melkor would have continued his piracy and smuggling for many years to come, had his ship not been boarded during an unexpected routine inspection and concealed contraband discovered. Melkor had always been forewarned on upcoming inspections due to his corrupt connections with local officials, giving him plenty of time to either hide the cargo better or to ensure it had been offloaded from the ship all together and transported out of the vicinity. But on this occasion, he hadn’t been notified and thus was taken by surprise. Unable to talk his way out of it, and the evidence found all over the ship, Melkor had been arrested and carted off to prison.

Halbrand had been 19 at the time, approaching the end of his Endor Sea Guard apprenticeship, and had somehow been let off with only a warning. The assumption had been that as one of the youngest crew members, he had lacked the experience and knowledge to be involved in such an operation and so had been passed over when it came to fully investigating Melkor’s crimes. What had been completely missed, was that Halbrand and the other young apprentice on board, Adar, had been instrumental in the smuggling operations. As young teens, they had been able to climb into the smallest inaccessible areas of the ship to hide goods, smuggle items past checkpoints whilst everyone else was searched and act as lookouts or distractions when needed. As they got older and stronger, Melkor liked to send Halbrand and Adar in as muscle, fighting anyone who got in their way, persuading particularly reluctant sellers to part with their goods or as a warning to those who tried to avoid payment.

With Melkor behind bars, rumoured to be awaiting execution, Halbrand found himself out from under his influence, but he and Adar never forgot their extensive education under him. Once they had graduated from their Endor Sea Guard apprenticeship at 21, with the money they’d been able to save from all the smuggling operations, they began their own shipping company. On the surface, it was completely legitimate, but special additional services were available if you were willing to pay an extra cost for them.

Soon, thanks to both parts of the business, they were moving cargo (legal and illegal) not just up and down the coastline of the Southlands, but the entire continent.  And as they did, Halbrand gathered whatever information he could on the sea witch and how one day he might go about obtaining her power and becoming master of the seas around Endor.

For the next decade, he obsessed over every vague sighting, every scrap of parchment, and every half-drawn map he could get his hands on. He listened to the ancient songs and tales told by the nomadic Harfoots whenever he encountered them on their wanderings, swapped hushed whispers with the lore keepers in the Great Hall of Lore located in Arandor on Númenor and even ventured inland to the vast library of Minas Tirith to ask the oldest and wisest of the archivists what he knew about the sea witch.

And finally, when Halbrand turned 32, he got his hands on the final pieces of the puzzle as to where she might be found. 

These final clues seemed to point to the isolated sea caves located on the north Forlindon coastline. You could only enter these sea caves from the open ocean; there was no way to access them from the land. The dark granite cliffs stood tall and imposing along this stretch of coastline, with sheer, almost vertical rock faces that were impossible for anyone to climb down. Initially this had made Halbrand wary, if they could only approach from the water, he did not like the thought of having to wait for the tide to be at the right height to access the caves, and then being limited by the time he could spend in there before the tide returned.

But one of the odd details that Halbrand had been able to glean from the few locals who had been willing to talk to him about the Forlindon sea caves, was that they seemed unaffected by the tides. The water level stayed the same, regardless of if it was high or low tide on the surrounding coastline. This strange point, alongside the maps and fragments that Halbrand had been collecting since he was a teenager, cemented to him that this was the location of sea witch’s cave and it seemed, her magical mirror.

And so, he’d organised a small crew, led by himself and Adar to head to the sea caves.

First, there was Waldreg, who followed Adar around like a bedraggled, grimy shadow. He’d been part of the crew on the Angband under Melkor, disappearing during the arrests over the smuggling operations and reappearing soon after Halbrand and Adar had started their own business. Adar had been keen to employ him as Waldreg had a wealth of knowledge about sea currents, weather patterns, and how to sail using only the stars, even if the man himself was a tiresome, oily wretch who hung on Adar’s every word. Halbrand despised him and it took most of his patience every time they set sail together not to launch Waldreg off the deck and into the sea.

Wherever Waldreg went, Rowan went too. And that also meant being accompanied about Rowan’s constant shadow, Theo. The boys were of similar age, both having run away from their respective villages in the Southlands to go sea. They had not been initially successful and had spent several years drifting around the ports and towns in Gondor generally making a nuisance of themselves. They had ended up in trouble with Waldreg after they tried to rob one of Halbrand and Adar’s warehouses, but rather than turn the boys into the authorities, Adar had hired them. Both were strong and scrappy, occasionally cheeky, but desperate to please and prove themselves useful.

Halbrand had agreed that bringing Rowan and Theo along on the expedition was a good idea, mainly because they were skilled enough with rowing to help manoeuvre the boat in and out of the narrow cave openings, but also because he thought they could be expendable if the cave decided to throw additional challenges their way upon entering. It was a cruel and ruthless thought, but Halbrand wasn’t averse to some collateral damage to get what he wanted, something else he had learnt from Melkor and his days on the Angband.  

He wasn’t about to let anything get in his way now.

And so, with all our players finally in place, our story is ready to begin.

III- The Cave:

The five-person crew sat in the sturdy weather worn rowboat, its wooden form creaking gently beneath their weight as it glided over the dark, rippling surface of the sea. Thick grey mist enveloped the boat, shrouding everything in an almost spectral stillness. The muted sound of oars dipped rhythmically into the water, echoing through the haze. The boat seemed to be the only thing moving out there on the ocean as it carried its passengers toward the towering granite sea cliffs, the heights of them lost to the fog.

In the middle of the boat, Theo and Rowan sat side by side, their movements at the oars well synchronized, propelling them forward in the water, the ripples they left behind disappearing almost instantly into the opaque mist. Both young men rowed with practiced efficiency, their grips firm on the worn wooden handles, their brows furrowed in the same look of concentration. They shared an occasional glance when Halbrand provided them with an adjustment to their course but said nothing back.

Halbrand sat in the bow of the boat, his posture steady yet alert for the slightest shift in the weather conditions. He’d wanted to set out in daylight, to reduce the need for torches in the cave, but hadn’t quite anticipated the fog to be as thick as this. His sharp green eyes strained against the unrelenting mist, calculating each detail ahead, a faint silhouette of a jagged outcrop here, the shadowy hint of underwater rocks there. There was an intensity to his gaze that made it difficult to discern whether he was steering them toward safety or something far darker. Halbrand’s hand rested lightly on the edge of the vessel, fingers tapping out a discordant pattern that betrayed some of his nervousness.

Behind Theo and Rowan in the stern sat Adar and Waldreg, both huddled in their dark coloured coats. They spoke little, Adar’s gaze was fixed on the cliffs ahead, trying to catch a glimpse of the cave they were heading for, whereas Waldreg’s grey eyes seemed captivated by the rippling water below. Occasionally they looked at each other, faces grim and determined before looking away again.

Soon, what had first appeared as a vague outline through the mist solidifying into a shadowy cavern cut into the cliff base, larger than the two Halbrand had already guided the boat past.

Halbrand paused, looking down to check the map he’d drawn based on the information he’d gathered over the last decade to check that this was the correct location. When he spoke, his voice sounded surprisingly calm as it broke through the muffled stillness of the mist.

“This is the one.”

As he didn’t turn round, Halbrand felt rather than saw his companions tense at his words and there was a slight break in the rhythm of Theo and Rowan’s rowing as they took the news in.

“The entrance is wide enough for the boat and the oars but go slowly. You don't want to catch on the rocks.”

The rowboat slipped beneath the overhang of the cave’s entrance, entering a narrow tunnel. The rhythmic dip of the oars slowed, Theo and Rowan adjusting their pace to navigate the constrained space. The sound of waves lapping against the cave's rugged surfaces was loud, echoing off the walls. The mist thinned slightly as they entered the tunnel, but the shadows deepened, casting distorted reflections onto the water.

Halbrand remained unflinchingly calm, his piercing green eyes scanning the tunnel ahead.  “Steady now,” he murmured, his voice low. The others held their silence, their breaths suspended in the weight of the moment, as the boat pressed cautiously forward.

Suddenly, the tunnel opened out, releasing the rowboat into a much larger cavern. The cave walls soared upwards, an imposing cathedral of rock, its high ceiling dotted with spiked rock formations that glittered faintly with moisture. Pale grey sunlight cascaded down through several wide cracks in the dark grey rock above, illuminating the space with a strange ethereal glow. The light reflected off a small waterfall flowing down the back wall of the cave, its currents carving deep crevices into the rock before merging into the sea below.

The ocean water didn’t continue far into the cave; it lapped against the edges of a wide curved wave-cut ledge, the surface pitted with cracks and potholes. Towards the back of the ledge was an elevated platform that could be reached by a short series of steps hewn into the stone. The rock here was smoother than the surrounding jagged terrain, as though it had been shaped by hammer and chisel rather than the powerful erosive forces of the waves. At the centre of the platform stood a rocky plinth, bathed in the pale rays of sunlight streaming in through a fissure above. Atop the plinth rested a delicately carved stone basin, its polished surface a striking contrast to the rugged surroundings.

The five men sat motionless for a moment, the boat bobbing gently as though the cave itself had drawn them into its rhythm. Everything here was still, even the relentless power of the sea seemed to pause at the entrance. The very air seemed to hum with unseen energy and mystery.

Theo and Rowan finally released their grip on the oars, their knuckles easing from the strain of the journey. Halbrand’s green eyes narrowed as they traced the path of the cascading water before moving to gaze at the plinth and the stone basin. An unspoken sense of foreboding lingered in the back of his mind, but he pushed the feeling aside.

Halbrand took a deep breath before his voice broke the silence, his tone more certain and measured.

“This is it,” he murmured, rising slightly in the rowboat, a slow smile spreading across his face. 

Rowan moved his oar out of the water to press the starboard side of the boat flush against the ledge. With a nod to Halbrand, he steadied the craft, his knuckles white with effort. Halbrand hauled himself out of the boat, his boots landing with a muted thud against the damp rock.

From the stern, Adar followed suit, but he seemed more intent on adjusting the sword at his belt and checking the knife at his other hip, rather than taking in his new surroundings. Waldreg was close behind him, his gaze darting over the cavern's imposing walls, his unease palpable in the way he clutched his jacket, fiddling with something in one of the pockets, as if that would relieve some of his nerves.

Halbrand gestured for Theo and Rowan to stay put in the boat. Both young men were secretly relieved, exchanging a fleeting glance of shared gratitude before refocusing their efforts on keeping the vessel steady and preventing the sides from scraping too much against the rocks.

Halbrand and Adar walked across the ledge towards the platform and the plinth, Waldreg hovering to the side. Halbrand’s heart was hammering uncharacteristically fast inside his chest, he couldn’t believe he was finally here after all the searching and scorn that had been aimed his way in the last decade. He took a couple of deep steadying breaths, trying not to let his racing thoughts get the better of him.

Adar headed towards the back of the platform, running his hands along the walls of the cave, looking to see if there were any hidden crevices or traps.

Halbrand stepped up to the plinth, running his fingers over the smooth surface of the stone basin which had been carved with such great care and attention, with ancient runes equally spaced out around the rim. He reached into his coat pocket, carefully withdrawing several scraps of parchment he’d bartered from Sadoc Burrows the last time he passed through Pelargir. The largest was about the size of Halbrand’s palm, the sepia edges frayed and brittle with age. On its yellowing surface, inscribed by a meticulous hand in now faded obsidian ink, were the same ancient runes carved into the basin. Scrawled underneath in a much rougher, untidier hand was the Westron translation:

The sea is always right.

 Halbrand stuffed the parchment back inside his coat, stepping up to stand directly next to the basin. Under his feet he could feel two indents where the jagged rock had been worn smooth by someone standing in this exact spot over and over again. But the two feet shaped hollows were much smaller than his own, as were the two hand shaped marks on either side of the basin, where again the uneven rock had been worn flat by someone placing their hands in the same position over many, many centuries. Halbrand wondered at how small the hands and feet marks were, at the size of the person who had made them.

The inside of the basin was shaped like a scallop shell, slightly ridged and iridescent in the pale grey sunlight cascading down from above, but it was empty.

He looked up at Adar, now standing opposite him on the platform, who returned his quizzical look with a shrug of his shoulders as if to say “what next?”

Halbrand sighed, deciding to place his hands over the indents on the side of the basin, to see what would happen, and the moment he did, it began to fill with crystal clear water. When the water level stopped rising, it remained still, not a ripple passing over the surface, as if it was waiting.

And Halbrand knew what for.

He swallowed before he spoke, his mouth struggling to get round the unusual sounds of the Quenyan incantation scrawled on one of the other the scraps of parchment given to him by Sadoc.

“Tana nin.”

Show me.

 The water began to swirl and faint yellow lights appeared under the surface, flickering like the bioluminescence you sometimes saw in the tropical waters around Umbar. The lights danced and spun around the basin, reflecting up into Halbrand’s green eyes and he found himself being dazzled as they moved faster and faster. He desperately wanted to look away as they became even brighter but he could not, it was as if he was compelled to keep looking, as he was drawn into the vision appearing around him.

It was like he was underwater, everything was cloudy and muddled, bubbles rushing up past him, as if he had just plunged into the water from a great height. All around him was the blue and seemingly empty sea, the weight of the water and silence pressing in from all sides until his head began to pound with the pressure of it.

A far off rumble of thunder echoed around the cave and it was enough to jolt Halbrand out of the vision. He started, breathing rapidly as if he really had just emerged from being underwater, before glancing around the cave and then down into the basin. The lights and the water had vanished.

“Well, what did you see?” Adar demanded, stepping up next to Halbrand. 

Halbrand turned to him, confused. He wasn’t exactly sure what he had been expecting to see, but he had pictured visions of grandeur and power, not the overwhelming underwater sight in his mind’s eye.

“It-it didn’t show me anything, it was as if I was underwater.”

Adar laughed harshly. “You must have done something wrong Hal, you always did mess everything up.”

He shoved Halbrand out of the way, taking up the same position in front of the basin and spoke the same incantation.

Halbrand huffed in annoyance but stepped off the platform back down onto the ledge, watching as the same golden lights flickered across Adar’s face, as he too was put into a trance by the water. It seemed to Halbrand as he watched that Adar was under the spell much longer than he was.

There was a second rumble of thunder, but it sounded closer than the first one.

Perhaps a storm was brewing out at sea.

Adar blinked, shaking his head slightly as if trying to either clear it or make sense of what he’d seen.

“What did you see?” Halbrand demanded.

Adar looked at him strangely, but he did not answer.

There was a third rumble of thunder and a violent wind rushed into the cave. The waves breaking on the rocks below were landing with a little more force than they had done before. Halbrand didn’t like this, conditions were changing faster than he expected.

He paused, thinking about what to do next, when Waldreg, standing on the opposite side of the cave spoke, turning his head from side to side as if trying to detect something. 

“Do you hear that?”

Halbrand and Adar looked curiously around, the only sounds they could hear were the waves breaking against the rock.

But then Halbrand heard it.

There was a voice upon the air, a shrill cackle, getting louder and louder, reverberating off the walls of the cave, each new echo adding to the eerie sound.

She was here.

The sea witch rose up out of the surf next to the boat, stepping swiftly onto the rocks. She was a diminutive figure, no taller than Theo, her long hair the colour of golden sand was dripping with water down her back, and her eyes were a bright vivid blue. The colour reminded Halbrand of the jellyfish that glowed and pulsed gently in the tropical waters of the coast of Umbar.

Halbrand could see that she was beautiful, almost ethereal. Fair as the sea and the sun, but he could also see how terrible and vicious she was. There was no mercy in her face, she was furious, her lips curling back in a snarl as she bared her teeth. Dark grey shadows coiled around the edges of her body, moving as she moved. She was clad in a long-tattered dress that may have once been green, but now it was faded, frayed and ripped at the seams, the sleeves and neckline torn. Halbrand could see her skin was pale, almost translucent, with thin inky black veins just below the surface.

“What have we here? Intruders in my sea cave?”

Her voice was dangerously quiet, almost melodic in tone, but a sound that could soothe and terrify in equal measure. It made the hairs on the back of Halbrand’s neck stand up and his hand instinctively tightened around the hilt of his sword.

Her piercing, electric blue eyes swept over him, lingering just long enough for Halbrand to sense something strange, there was a flicker of recognition that was quickly extinguished as her attention shifted to Adar and Waldreg. Though Rowan and Theo sat trembling in the boat behind her, she ignored them completely, her focus locked on the three figures on the platform.

 “Well? I asked you a question.”

Her last few words were loud and commanding, laced with a supernatural echo that made the cavern tremble and Halbrand’s body seized, suddenly locked in place as though bound by invisible chains. A sharp intake of breath from Adar revealed that he, too, was trapped under the same force of her spell.

Adar’s voice cracked slightly as he spoke, his chest constricted by her power, “We meant no harm, my lady, we were-”

“Spare me your excuses,” Galadriel interrupted, her voice colder than a biting gust of winter air, the dark shadows swirling around on the edges of her body becoming thicker, seeping out into the air, throwing terrible shapes up onto the cave walls. “You trespass in a place you do not understand.”

Waldreg’s hands were raised in a placating gesture, his eyes watching Galadriel warily.

“We sought shelter from the tide, nothing more, my lady.”

His tone carried a hint of defiance, and even perhaps reverence.

“Shelter?” she mused, her tone was mocking but also laced with curiosity as she focused on the now cowering man. “In my sea cave of all places? Forgive me if I do not believe you.”

She turned away, her movements fluid and inhumanly graceful, the faint glow of her magic leaving more dark twisted trails in the air. Her attention shifted to the boat, where Rowan and Theo cowered in silence. “And you two? Are you merely pawns in their folly, or does guilt bind your tongues?”

Theo raised his head timidly, his eyes meeting hers for the briefest moment before darting away. “We-we followed them. We... didn’t know.”

“Didn’t know?” Her laughter was soft but chilling. “Oh, ignorance is a poor shield. But you both are young, and the sea may yet have mercy for you.”

Halbrand felt her vivid gaze return to him, more intense than before, as if she were peeling back the layers of his soul. “And you,” she said, quieter now, almost gentle, “What do you seek in this place of forgotten tides? Why do I sense that this is perhaps your enterprise?”

She took a step towards him, and Halbrand couldn’t help but flinch as her hand reached for his face. He could see her fingers tipped with sharp pointed nails that looked as if they could tear through skin with ease and he could not lift his arms to shield himself if she struck, bound as he was by her spell.

Suddenly, Adar shouted, his voice shattering the tension. “Forgive us, Galadriel.”

For a fleeting moment, Galadriel’s expression betrayed a flicker of surprise, a rare break in the glacial façade that shrouded her. Then, like a tide reclaiming its shore, her composure returned, colder and sharper than before. Her laugh came again, low and bitter, a sound that echoed ominously through the cavern’s depths.

Her head tilted as she turned away from Halbrand, the faint glow in her eyes intensifying as she scrutinised Adar, the use of her name drawing her immediate attention. She raised her hand, and Adar, caught in the threads of her magic, was pulled forward by the dark shadows to stand beside Halbrand.

“Explain yourself,” she commanded.

Adar's voice was calm as he replied, “We are here to protect you from him.”

Suddenly, in one sudden fluid movement, Adar wretched himself free of her binding, drawing his knife from his belt. He raised it up high before he brought it down between Halbrand’s shoulder blades.

Halbrand, still immobilised by her spell, was unable to defend himself. He roared in pain and sank onto his knees as Adar forced the knife in further, twisting the tip of the blade ruthlessly, through muscle and sinew. Blood quickly began to soak through Halbrand’s shirt and onto his navy coat and when Adar wrenched the knife out, Halbrand swayed, unable to keep himself steady as the pain blazed through him. He slumped down onto his left side, unable to fully hold himself up, as Adar loomed behind him, knife poised again.

A shot rang out through the cave, the deafening crack of the flintlock pistol tearing through the charged atmosphere. The sound ricocheted off the cavern walls, mixing with the sound of the crashing waves and Halbrand’s pained breathing. For a heartbeat, time seemed to fracture, the echoes folding in on themselves, until only the sharp scent of gunpowder remained.

Waldreg stood frozen, the pistol still trembling in his grip, smoke curling from its barrel. His expression was a storm of panic, as if he had acted before his thoughts could catch up. The bullet, however, had missed its intended mark. Waldreg had been aiming at Halbrand, clearly an action predetermined with Adar in some kind of arrangement to betray him, but the lead shot struck Galadriel instead, passing through her arm with a swirl of black shadow. Her whole body violently convulsed, flickering in shock.

There was a beat and then Waldreg, now scared out of his mind, made to run back to the boat, throwing the gun to one side. Galadriel caught the movement in her peripheral vision and her wrath was unleashed. She was a tempest unbound, a force that seemed to mimic the very rage of the sea itself. The cavern shuddered with her presence, the air thick with an unnatural charge.

Her eyes blazed brilliant blue and a blast of seawater struck Waldreg with unrelenting precision, a tidal force compressed into a singular, devastating blow. His body was hurled through the air like a ragdoll, colliding with the jagged cave wall with a sickening crack. Waldreg’s body then crumpled down to the floor with another horrible crushing sound and Halbrand suspected the impact had broken his neck.

But Galadriel's fury was far from over.

In the boat, Rowan and Theo were a tangle of limbs and panic, their frantic attempts to push off from the rocks turning desperate as they saw the storm brewing in her electric blue eyes. The sea beneath the boat was frothing and bubbling as though alive, shifting with a malevolence that sent it rocking wildly, throwing Rowan to the deck.

Then it happened, another flash of light in her eyes, a subtle motion of her hands, and the sea responded. A column of water erupted directly beneath the boat, a geyser of such tremendous force that it lifted the vessel high into the air. The boat tilted precariously and from where he was lying, Halbrand caught a fleeting glimpse of Theo's small hand clinging desperately to the edge, his knuckles white with terror.

The water, no longer a simple torrent, now seemed alive, writhing and twisting in sinuous tendrils that curled around the boat, gripping it with otherworldly strength, splintering wood beneath their touch. Theo's scream pierced the cacophony, raw and primal, a sound of pure, unfiltered dread. And then, with a flick of her wrists, Galadriel reversed the flow. The column collapsed, dragging the boat and its occupants down below the surface with ruthless efficiency. The sea swallowed them whole, as though they'd never existed, leaving behind only a few fragments of wood that bobbed innocuously in the foamy swell.

Rowan and Theo were gone.

Silence fell, broken only by the subdued lap of the waves against the cavern walls. Halbrand's chest heaved as he drew in shallow breaths, the wound in his back searing with a sharp and unforgiving pain, his mind reeling. He couldn't tear his gaze away from the remains of the boat, even as every instinct in his injured body urged him to try and flee.

Galadriel stood at the water's edge, her hands still poised, her eyes glowing faintly with residual light as she looked up at Adar, who had run towards the back of the cave, seeking another way out. When he had not found one, he turned defiantly back to face her, his dark eyes alert for what she would do next.

Adar unsheathed the sword at his belt, brandishing it defiantly at Galadriel. Halbrand recognised it as Narsil, the Sword of the Drowned King, one of the artefacts they had encountered during their time under Melkor, who had procured the sword for a powerful Númenórean merchant, Ar-Pharazôn. But it appears that the weapon that had been passed to Ar-Pharazôn all those years ago had been a copy, with Adar now wielding the real one.

Halbrand remembered the stories, Narsil had been the sword of the ancient Gondorian King, Isildur, who had sacrificed himself to defeat the evil Warlord Sauron during a vast naval battle between their kingdoms, imbuing the blade with magical powers. The sword had been one of the many items that was reputed to be able to kill the sea witch and it seemed Adar had held onto it all these years for this very moment.

With both hands on the hilt, Adar swung the sword down towards the small figure of the sea witch before him.

But the blade never hit its mark.

Both her arms came up in a crossed defensive stance and white light blazed from her palms. The sword struck the light with a defending clang that reverberated through the cavern, as if it had hit something solid. From where he was lying, Halbrand could see her pushing back against Adar with all her might.

For a moment they seemed locked together, Adar trying to force the sword downward through Galadriel’s barrier of light, but she suddenly twisted her hands upwards to seize the blade. Her fingers closed around it, seemingly immune to the sharp edges, and in one quick motion she wrenched the sword from Adar’s grasp, flipping it high into the air so she could seize it by the hilt. Her actions knocked Adar off balance, and he stumped backwards, but managed to remain on his feet. 

She approached him, dragging the tip of the blade across the pitted surface of the rocky platform, making an ominous scraping sound.

As she did, she spoke.

“You sought to betray your companion? I do not hold with betrayal. There is a special circle of hell saved for deceivers and betrayers.”

The dark shadows around her body were thickening again, coalescing around her as she was cloaked in the night sky. Her eyes were glowing brilliant blue with a savage vengeance that twisted her beautiful face into something dark and otherworldly.

This truly was the sea witch of the legends.

“What will it be, the sword? Or the sea?”

But it appears she did not want an answer, she had already decided, and Galadriel drove Narsil straight into Adar’s chest and the sea exploded behind her. Her cackling laughter was high and mocking, almost jubilant, as she twisted the blade in further, almost mirroring Adar’s own actions as he had driven his knife into Halbrand’s back. Each syllable of the laugh seemed to leap and tumble over the next with untamed energy as the water rained down around them.

Blood bloomed thick and fast around the entrance wound in Adar’s chest, turning his shirt and coat crimson. When he opened his mouth to speak, more blood spilled out, but Galadriel did not stop. She forced the sword so far through Adar’s body that the tip emerged between his shoulder blades, her eyes alive with a bright savage malice.

Then in one swift motion, Galadriel withdrew the weapon, and her gleeful laughter died away. She flung Narsil carelessly to one side, it had served its purpose, and she watched with distaste as Adar’s body fell at her feet with a dull thud.

Galadriel cast one last dismissive look in Halbrand’s direction where he lay drenched and bleeding before she vanished into the spray and the water crashed back down, large foaming waves lapping against the platform as the sea returned to normal.

The silence that rushed in to replace the roar of the water and the sound of her terrible voice was almost as loud and disconcerting. Halbrand, now soaked in the skin, tried to push himself up but the pain in his back was too much. He let out an agonised cry and collapsed back down, where unconsciousness claimed him.

IV- Into the Deep:

Halbrand’s thoughts were hazy as he slipped in and out of consciousness like the tide ebbing and flowing on the shore. As he stirred, trying to shake the blurriness from the corners of his vision, he realised he was too close to the edge of the rocks. He groaned. Even if he had been able to sit himself upright to try and crawl away, one small shift of his weight in the wrong direction would send him falling straight into the sea. And if he did, he knew he wouldn’t have the strength to stay afloat and stop himself from drowning. He could feel the blood pooling around him, the deep wound in his back throbbing and pulsing, as every beat of his heart pushed more blood from his body.

Halbrand grimaced. Of course Adar had sought to betray him, it all made sense now. All these years surreptitiously stoking and encouraging Halbrand’s obsession with the sea witch, wanting to steal the power for himself. Surrounding himself with a crew loyal to Adar had also been a mistake, Halbrand now realised. How much clearer everything looked with hindsight.

Halbrand was cold, feeling the chill wind blowing into the cave from across the open ocean, robbing his body of even more energy as it tried to not only succumb to the wound, but also the dropping temperature, as the night crept in from outside.

He was going to die here in this godforsaken cave just like the rest of his companions. No one was coming for him. There would be no last minute rescue. This mission had been conducted in secret, with no one knowing their true destination or purpose. And now, he was going to die too, like his companions had, and there was no one left to miss or mourn him. Rowan and Theo’s bodies were gone, submerged somewhere in the sea and Adar’s and Waldreg’s corpses lay not far away. It would explain the vision he saw in the witch’s mirror, he had no future, just another face lost to her legend.

He sighed deeply at the realisation and the movement made his chest hurt, the air catching in his damaged lungs.

Trying to distract himself from the inevitable, Halbrand turned his face towards the water, to watch the waves as they broke against the edge of the rock next to him. Even now, on the verge of dying, the call of the sea was still there, he needed to look at the waves, needed to see how each one that broke against the rock did so slightly differently, changing the amount of spray that was thrown up into the air, needed to see how the faint moonlight was reflecting off the sea’s surface, sending shimmers across his face and the cave walls.

It reminded him so much of when he was a boy and spending time on the beach at Pelargir, amongst the tidal rock pools with his mother. He remembered the way the sun had danced on the water, shining up into Yavanna’s eyes as she crouched next to him, teaching him the names of all the creatures they found. Her eyes had been the same soft green as his. Halbrand had not thought about his mother for a long time and in the quiet of the cave, he allowed himself a moment to wonder what she would think of him, what she would say if she could see him now.

He wasn’t sure how much more time passed.

The temperature dropped even further, and what little breath he was able to exhale appeared in small white clouds above his face. The shivering increased, his body unable to manage both keeping him warm and keeping him awake.

Halbrand’s eyes began to slide out of focus again, it was becoming harder and harder to stay conscious. Each time he blacked out, it was lasting longer, and his body was weaker each time he eventually stirred. But through the dimness seeping into the edges of his vision, he thought he saw something moving under the water near the entrance to the cave. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his sight, and despite how much it hurt, he titled himself onto his left side so he could try and see what it was.

The blurred outline came closer and closer until Galadriel’s head broke the surface about an arm’s length away from him where he was lying.

She floated easily in the water, her golden hair fanning out around her, as those intensely vivid blue eyes watched him closely. He could see them moving over his prone form, taking in the pallor on his face and the blood stained rocks. It felt to Halbrand like she was considering him.

One hand reached up and her fingertips gently caressed his cheek.

“You are still alive.”

It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. Despite the softness of her tone, she almost sounded impressed.

The hand on Halbrand’s cheek moved to his chin, gripping it, turning his head so he had no choice but to look directly at her. Her brilliant gaze this close felt so piercing, so searching, like the strongest beam of a lighthouse trying to seek something in his features. Her sharp nails raked lightly over his skin before she let go of his chin.

“So handsome. Seems such a waste.” She paused, tilting her head to the side. “Perhaps, I’ll keep you.”

She surged forward in a slosh of water so her face was a breath away from his. He could count every one of her eyelashes, see the faint inky freckles scattered across the pale, translucent skin of her cheeks and even glimpse her pulse fluttering just below her jawline.

“Would you like that?”

Halbrand could hardly think, a strange icy numbness was spreading through his limbs, replacing the pain as his body shut down more and more.

She was offering him a way out.

He opened his mouth to answer Galadriel, but all that came out was a distressed gasp. He swallowed and tried again, giving her a single word response that was barely there.

“Yes.”

Her face lit up with smug, almost savage delight, her breath quickening as her wide eyes flicked down to his lips. Then she kissed him, a rough fierce thing, her mouth moving greedily against his, her teeth nipping at his bottom lip.

As they broke apart, Halbrand felt a strange tingling sensation spreading across his face, and down his torso. He stared at her, watching those brilliant blue eyes spark and flash with lightning as the power thrummed through her into him.

What had she just done?

 She smiled, a self-satisfied little thing, as she reached out to grasp his shoulder.

She pulled him easily into the water despite his size, his wounded body offering up no resistance. He sank quickly down below the surface like a stone and streams of bubbles rushed up past him. As he hung there, suspended in the current, Halbrand began to panic, unsure what he was supposed to do now, fighting the urge to breathe as his lungs began to burn. 

Then Galadriel was facing him, her body moving with an effortless grace that defied the currents pressing against her. She took one of his hands in hers, nodding, as if telling him that it was alright.

He took his first stuttering breath, and rather than water flooding his lungs, Halbrand breathed in air. His eyes widened in shock and he took in the swirling turquoise water around him, shimmering in the moonlight filtering through from above, seemingly able to breathe under the surface like she could.

He remembered the Mirror and the vision he had been shown. It seems it had been right after all.

Halbrand’s gaze softened as he looked at her through the water, his usual guardedness replaced by a need to understand. Galadriel’s eyes glittered back at him, the vivid blue to his forest green, in a way that seemed to confirm his thoughts.

She drew even closer to him again, still holding his hand in hers, her golden hair a radiant halo that streamed out behind her, its strands intertwining with the fluid motion of the water.

Then her lips met his for a second time. Her touch was firm, but gentler than before, her mouth moving against his felt warm, despite the coldness of the water around them. Her other hand rose to cup his face, her palm soft against the stubble of his beard. Halbrand did not resist, his hands moving up to hold her body close to him as he kissed her back.

As she broke away, one word echoed strongly inside his mind.

Mine.

“Down we go.”

Her voice, which had been so harsh and cruel on occasions earlier, was now much gentler, like the soft whisper of the tide against the shore.

Then Galadriel was guiding him down, down, down into the depths, the world above them fading, as water embraced them both, and they were gone.