By Cheyenne Dancer
Email: cheyenedgr@aol.com
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Pity poor Haldir, I'm feeling angsty, angry and upset and not quite sure how to deal with it. Poor baby suffers so well. It's all that arrogance, don'cha know?
Other Warnings: WIP, Some heterosexual situations (first chapter only), nonconsensual situations (most likely only first chapter?), Humiliation, most probably mpreg in a later chapter. Slash--yaoi influenced.
PL Nunn did a simply stunning picture of Ruroni Kenshin (Samurai X) in her "Handcuffs & Sodomy" Doujinshi. Absolutely riveting. I loved Kenshin bound and helpless, his long hair spilling across the wooden planking as he stared in helpless submission and I decided to do a little Haldir angst as a result.
If you like yaoi, beautiful anime boys and would love to have some doujinshi written for an English-speaking audience, give PL's site a try: http://www.bishonenworks.com
MORE WARNINGS: Wicked Galadriel--I love the woman. I love the character. I love JRRT and I would *love* to be the handmaiden to this Elven Queen. That said, this is definitely not a nice Galadriel story. Not a horrible one... but she definitely is more on the dark side. Flames are not welcome. You have been warned. Read elsewhere if this disturbs you. Please.
Disclaimers: The Elves do not belong to me. Would that they did, I would never leave my rooms, nor I seriously doubt I would have any use for the Internet. ^_^
Pairing: Galadriel/Haldir, Haldir/Celeborn
Summary: Galadriel departs for the Undying Lands, but not without leaving a gift for her longtime consort.
Author's Note: In the books, Frodo asked Galadriel how come he could not use the ring as she used hers. To which Galadriel replied: "Before you could use that power you would need to become far stronger, and to train your will to the domination of others." --"The Fellowship of the Ring" by JRRT
Which made me wonder about her strength and ability to dominate. This story is just a small side trip on that journey. And hell if I know where this came from. But who am I to complain? This first chapter is hetsex and noncon but it all leads to a wonderful slash affair with Celeborn.
Some stories need a hetsex element to help tell the tale, especially when discussing Elves who are in longtime committed relationships, so please forgive.
Archive: Yes, if you want, just let me know where.
Glossary and Sources are given at the end of this chapter.
Feedback as always is welcomed; flames are ignored or used to create new and interesting tortures for Elves and humans alike. Beware.
With Spring's First Bloom: Chapter 1- A Parting Gift
By Cheyenne Dancer
Trapped somewhere between waking and sleeping, some small warning of peril niggled uncomfortably at Haldir's fuzzy mind.
His jaw ached. A muffled sound of complaint came out jumbled and much softer than it should have. Something hard and wide bit sharply into the sides of his mouth. He canted his sleepy gaze downward staring through a veil of hair at a carved bit of wood that was pushed deep into his mouth and held there by strips of leather that cut into the soft skin of his cheeks.
Pushing at the piece of wood with his tongue did nothing but make him more aware of his growing unease and frustration. He blinked awake. Dizziness assailed him and his vision seemed tinged by a faint glow like that which accompanies dreaming. He tried to peer around himself to get a feel for what was wrong and was all but blinded by a swath of his pale silver hair.
When he tried to sweep it from his face with a hand, he found his arms bound uncomfortably above him. His breath whistled past the bit in his mouth in alarm. Panic jerked through him and he thrashed wildly, calling out for help, his cries escaping as little more than garbled murmurs that from any distance would be inaudible.
Other discomforts impinged upon his frightened muddled thoughts. He tossed his head wildly ridding himself of the inadvertent blindfolding of his hair. He banged his head hard against a solid surface. Cool air slid like silk against his naked flesh, wrapping like a chill-fingered hand around his genitals in a lingering caress before it played along the rest of his body.
The knowledge of his nakedness alone caused his heart to race wild like a herd of deer that had caught scent of a hunter in their midst.
He rolled his head frantically craning his neck to see what held him. His arms were stretched taut above his head, to the end of what looked like the surface of a brightly burnished table. Dark bands of leather braceleted the pale skin of his wrists. Muscles corded his arms as he pulled uselessly against whatever held the leather manacles flush against the wooden surface.
As he twisted and turned futilely in his bonds, his helplessness was brought home to him with all the fierceness of a thunderstorm howling through Lothlórien. He was raised several feet above the forest floor, that he was still in Lórien seemed clear from the mellyrn gathered close about him. The table upon which he lay ended just above his hips. His feet were raised, legs bent at the knee in an ingenious snare of more night-dark leather. Wide strips of the soft supple leather wrapped around his ankles and his thighs, a stark brand of night against the pale luminescence of his bare flesh. A long leather cord was draped through metal rings attached to the leather bands at ankle and thigh. The cord wound from the ring at his ankle up over a y-shaped branch and down to be knotted through the gleaming ring at his thigh. His other ankle and thigh were treated similarly though pulled so widely apart that he was most wretchedly exposed.
There was no portion of his body, nor his most private of areas that was not openly upon display.
Struggling only sharpened his sense of humiliation and vulnerability. His legs were widespread and jerking his feet did no good. Trying to lower his legs under him only raised his thighs, arching his back and hips impossibly as he wriggled in the strange tangle of leather. Relaxing into his bonds, only left his feet high in the air as if he were a nér ready to bed her husband or give birth. Both were disconcerting thoughts at the moment.
The bite of wood was beyond annoyingly painful across his lower back. With a disgruntled murmur behind the wooden piece thrust deep into his mouth, he lowered his legs enough to raise his hips and give his back some ease.
Numbly he struggled to remember what had happened and where he was. There had been a spring revel. Celeborn and Galadriel had graced it early on, although Celeborn had left before Ithil had touched its pale light to the first golden leaves of Lórien. Galadriel had stayed much later, which had been surprising as she generally followed her lord's example in all things.
Dimly he remembered an invitation by the Lady to accompany her to her garden. As March-warden, it was his duty to guard her should she desire, and though they were safe within the heart of Lórien, it was not an unreasonable request. She had spoken for a bit upon a variety of things much to his discomfort. Talk of fading and traveling to Valinor, not too subtle hints inquiring after his feelings of Celeborn. Haldir had remained stiffly polite while wishing fervently for an excuse to leave the Lady and her magical influence as quickly as could be done civilly.
She had introduced him to a couple of Elves that had been in her service from the time before Doriath. She had offered him wine and suggested a toast that he could not refuse--to Celeborn and to Lothlórien. He did not remember leaving.
"Shh, Guardian. You shall come to no harm here."
Dread coiled in his belly as he watched her glide gracefully from somewhere beyond the circle of trees. Her words gave him no ease for even in his bewildered confusion he could tell she was not surprised at his appearance.
She made an elegant rolling motion with her fingers and three other Elves came into his view. Gold hair framing long thin faces fell in waves to their waists and he thought he could remember them barely from Galadriel's garden. They shone brightly and behind the three was a greater brightness that made their features indistinct.
Noldor--kinslayers, the hazy thought thrummed through the quagmire that sought to muddle his thoughts. Some of those who had arrived no doubt with their Noldor Queen Galadriel when she had first come to Lord Celeborn for their handfasting. Loyal to Galadriel alone, then, though for countless ages it had seemed that it was one and the same as loyalty to the Lord Celeborn.
How long had they stood just beyond his vision and watched his futile struggle? Galadriel seemed flushed and the eyes of the other three Elves seemed to shine brighter than the light that almost blinded Haldir. Their eyes were riveted upon his bound and helpless body.
Awareness of the display he made, helpless and spread wide before them, leather dark against pale skin and long limbs dragged taut until every muscle seemed delineated burned through him. Brilliant color washed his body from head to toe. He made a small nervous sound beneath the wooden gag as the Elves surrounded the table upon which he lay.
Though horror clung in tattered shreds to him, he could not shake the vague sense that this was all nothing more than a dream--some horrific night fever the like of which men and dwarves told tales, though such had never strayed into Elven dreams before. At least he had never known any himself before this moment.
The approaching Elves wavered in and out of his vision and Haldir could not imagine what affected him so, Elves did not get ill. Perhaps it was true that he was dreaming then, dark dreams for the end of an Age. Such thoughts were little comfort. Nor did they help still his apprehension as he watched Galadriel through wide, frightened eyes, attempting to swallow the heart that had taken up residence in his throat.
The Lady had never looked more coolly regal than she did as she towered over him. He forced himself to meet her gaze calmly, though he was sure the fine sheen of sweat that dewed his body told its own tale of terror and confusion. She graced him with a smile as beatific as Ithil and as distant. Cool fingers mapped his face, gently brushing the stray strands of silver from mouth and eyes. "You are as much my guardian as the Lord Celeborn's."
Nodding his head in agreement, Haldir lifted his eyes to stare into her unfathomable gaze and shuddered. He made a small pleading sound behind the gag. He did not know what he had done to so offend the Lady that she would take her vengeance in humiliation and fear.
Stroking the hair back from his face tenderly, Galadriel's gaze was not without compassion, though the gesture seemed disassociated somehow, as if she were thinking upon heavier, more ponderous matters than one lone Elf bound and helpless at her bidding.
Her smile and kindness were not heartening. She watched him with the same chill intensity he had seen in a human once.
Haldir had been visiting Rohan, on a buying trip for Lord Celeborn. The Lord had a fondness for horses and had heard that the Rohirrim had two or three stallions of rare beauty and intelligence at the market. The memory was so bright Haldir thought he could still smell the stink of the city's market, the curl of smoke from the old trader's pipe. The trader's prize stallion
had broken its leg in a gopher hole. Almost, Haldir could see the curl of smoke about the old gray head as the rough-spoken breeder had wondered out loud whether it would be better to put down a favorite stallion that had gone lame or allow it to live out its years at stud.
Galadriel had that same thoughtful look.
She tapped the bit in his mouth with the tip of a finger bringing Haldir's focus back to her. Haldir flinched, drawing in a deep breath. "In a moment, I shall have this removed--and you will be very good for me." She rubbed her finger around the bit, feeling the shape of his lips and Haldir moved uncomfortably. "We are far into the wood and this area is sacred to me. As such, it is heavily warded. No one but we four would hear your cries. And at such a show of distrust from you, I would be greatly angered. Do you understand, Haldir o Lórien?"
Swallowing convulsively, Haldir shuttered his eyes, feeling the dampness of his lashes upon his cheeks. A warning flick of her fingers against his temples brought his eyes wide open. He wished he could lick his lips, they felt so dry, his throat and mouth ached from cries that could not be heard. He gave her a shaky nod.
A pleased tilt of Galadriel's head answered his uncertain assent, "I have brought a small potion with me. And you shall drink for me and drink deeply. You must empty the cup I hold to your lips without hesitation and without question."
Haldir gave her a doubtful glance, his brows raising in a query he could not yet voice. His breathing though erratic was calming somewhat and his heart did not race quite so desperately to be free of his chest.
Galadriel leant over him and brushed a light kiss against the edge of his mouth, pressing the hard wood against his lips until an edge cut his lip and blood welled from the small tear. He gasped around the wood and tried to turn his head from her. Tangling her fingers in his hair, she jerked him back around and held his head still, forcing him to face her deep penetrating glare.
"You will drink, edhelneth, because I ask it. Because I am yet your Queen and my will be done." Her imperious words shivered across the torn flesh of his lips and she lapped at the blood dribbling from the corner delicately. He felt the magicks she used against him and whimpered.
"I am glad that we understand each other, guardian." She gestured towards him as she settled herself on the edge of the table upon which he was fastened in a rustling of lace. A light scent of roses and lavender tickled his nostrils. One of the three Elves stepped forward quickly unfastening the tie and pulling the painful bit of wood from his mouth.
Gasping for his first full unfettered breath, Haldir flushed a dull red shade when he saw the likeness in which the bit had been carved and swiftly averted his eyes from the wooden phallus. He turned his head to stare up at Galadriel, licking the blood from his lips, his eyes were dark with his hurt and humiliation. His voice quavered. "Lady, what have I done to so earn your displeasure?"
With brows raised in obvious disapproval, Galadriel rebuked him. "You must not speak unless I give you leave, guardian. Is that not one of the first tenets you were taught when dancing attendance in my presence?"
Haldir worried his swollen lip with his teeth, his gaze sliding around to the other Elves who seemed to mirror Galadriel's disapproval. He gave her an abrupt nod when she casually stroked along his chest. "Bring me my cup, Kalokion."
One of the Elves moved from near Haldir's head and back into the shadows of the wood. Much too quickly for Haldir, the other Elf returned, bearing a silver urn decorated in ancient Elven glyphs and a simple unadorned silver chalice. He watched as Galadriel took the urn from Kalokion and poured an amber fluid into the silver cup. Though she sat upon the table near his head he could not hear the soft words she murmured as the vessel was filled.
Cradling his head in one hand, Galadriel held the brimming cup to his lips. The wine smelled sweet and clean, and Haldir suddenly found himself overcome with an incredible thirst. The urge to drink was strong in him and though he fought it with all of his rebellious spirit, he found his mouth opening. Galadriel cooed her approval, pouring the cool liquid down his throat steadily. Soon Haldir feared he would choke, would not be able to breathe nor swallow. It looked like the wine was in no danger of abating and he thought he might strangle as he labored to drink it all down.
Galadriel let the emptied cup fall from her fingers, stroking his throat until the last drop of sweetness was swallowed. Haldir gulped for air noisily. "You did well, guardian. I am pleased."
Her eyes traveled over him and Haldir was reminded sharply of his nakedness. His thighs twitched in a helpless reflex to draw his legs together and hide himself from her view. She brought her eyes back up to his face, lingered upon his lips and then caught his gaze.
Haldir felt no less pinned than if an orc-ish arrow held him supine. Galadriel picked up the obscene wooden bit and let her fingers caress the carefully carved wood, her eyes never leaving the nervous March-warden's wide-eyed stare. "My husband has lost his heart to you, guardian."
Haldir's heart did a wild tumble, he opened his mouth to speak only just remembering at Galadriel's warning tap against his lips with the wooden phallus. He shut his mouth tightly. An incredible warmth suffused him and began to spread from his belly in warm lazy waves. Haldir's eyes widened.
Strange wild pulses of pleasure darted haphazardly through him and he could not contain a soft groan as he felt the flesh between his legs begin to thicken. His eyes darted to Galadriel wildly.
"How do you feel?"
A shudder trembled through him and Haldir twisted against the bonds, his breath starting to come out in sharp pants. "I--what did you give me?" He seemed to be spinning away. Galadriel's face danced in and out of his vision, he was not unconscious, but he felt strangely afar from where his body lay.
"A potion, it is nothing more--certainly nothing for you to fear. Tell me, my little guardian," Galadriel's voice dropped low, soft and coaxing, "who is it you carry hidden in your heart and mind?"
"Celeborn." Haldir's eyes widened in dismay and he jerked anxiously against his bonds as his tongue betrayed him.
"Ah. I had thought as much." Galadriel began running her fingers lightly up one of his arms to trace the black leather banding his wrist and then back down to play along the sensitive flesh under his arm. Pleasant ripples danced along his nerves and Haldir gave a nervous hiss, a warning ache curling in his groin.
"Tell me guardian, have you and my husband consummated this passion he has for you?"
Haldir shook his head wildly, alarm tensing muscles all along his body. "I have done nothing to shame you, my Lady. Nothing."
Petting Haldir's hair soothingly, Galadriel shifted from her seat by his head. "No. I did not think you had." Her voice sounded as if it were a mixture of regret and malice. Haldir strained upwards, the muscles in his neck aching as he sought to keep Galadriel in his view.
His vision seemed to darken and lighten, sparks of brightly colored light flared around the edges and everything seemed coated in soft colors. He breathed deeply trying to hold onto reality, not sure if this *were* reality, hoping dearly that it was naught but a waking dream created by too much sorrow, too much darkness and melancholy for the inevitable fading of Lothlórien.
A swish of lace seemed to anchor him and he turned blind eyes toward where he thought the Lady stood. Shadows and light played heavy in his mind and eyes.
Fingers ran along his torso sending pleasant jolts dancing erratically through him forced him to focus. Panic was swift returning as the warmth seemed to spread from a mild tingle to a raging inferno everywhere the Lady's fingers touched. He twisted his hands helplessly, but there was nothing to hold onto, nothing he could grasp. The flesh between his legs was a rigid embarrassment, dancing attendance upon the Lady's lightest of coaxing touches.
"Please--" Haldir wished to be free. Out from under the scrutiny of her three Elves and desperately wished to be as far from the Lady as he could take himself.
"I see in your heart. It is good that you did not lie to me, guardian." Galadriel continued to touch him, curious fingers stroking along his arched throat, petting his chest, just touching--a bare brush of fingertips against a tightly peaked nipple begging upon his chest causing an eruption of need to quake through him violently. Haldir tossed his head back, banging it harshly upon the wooden table. He must've bit his tongue for he could feel blood filling his mouth. He was going to cry.
He could sense Galadriel moving between his widespread thighs. Wanton heat and need that was not his coursed through him and he whimpered. Hard fingers were at his jaw pressing the hinge until his mouth opened, his vision was so hazy he could not see the wooden phallus that he knew the other Elf held. He cried out miserably as his mouth was filled before he could beg. Salt tears stung his eyes.
"I have a gift for you guardian." The Lady's words barely penetrated the miasma of fear and magic-induced need that filled him. Haldir tilted his chin in challenge, his eyes overlarge in his face.
Galadriel ignored his mute rebellion and signaled to one of the other Elves. Haldir glanced but did not know his name, or if he did could not bring it to mind. The Elf was tall as his fellows, hair the rich gold of the Noldor. He gave to her the chalice she had dropped. She filled it from the intricately worked urn and gave the vessel into the Elf's keeping. She turned holding the cup above Haldir and slowly let a drop pour forth.
"Should you consummate your love with my Lord, I give you a very special gift. One that I know he will cherish and you cannot help but give." Her lips curved compassionately but her eyes were hard. "It is both blessing and curse, gift and revenge. But in the end, if you know acceptance, you will have much joy of it."
Haldir swallowed difficulty past the gag, a small helpless sound of inquiry of begging seeping out. If he could speak he would beg her to change her mind; he would plead his case abjectly and disregard the pride she had held in long contempt. But she did not heed his small voiceless whimpers.
Her voice was a soft whispered seduction that thrilled through his helpless body even as Haldir's mind was screaming for him to rise, to fight, to flee. He squirmed frantically trying to avoid the delicate traceries of her fingers. It felt like she was writing upon his flesh in flame. He screamed
behind the wooden bit, no longer shamed of the tears that threatened.
His cries came out muffled and torn, small sounds of distress mewling helplessly even as the pain burned from inside out and pulsed and transmuted into a wild abandoned pleasure thrashing through his body in ever increasing waves. With apparent tenderness Galadriel caressed each nipple, plucking them until they stood out upon his flat chest, small pink points of pulsating fire that twisted through him, licking and curling in his loins.
Shifting helplessly, his hips raised and lowered, his body shamelessly displayed as he begged and begged and begged, his words unheard as anything but the smallest of whimpers and moans. Tears streaked down his face and whatever potion Galadriel had given him tinged the entire scene with a heightened sense of unreality.
He felt both tied to his flesh in a fever of need and separate. It was as if his mind could feel everything, enjoy everything, flinch and curl from each painful mark. Yet his thoughts were scattered and he could not remember what was happening from one moment to the next so that each new touch was as if the earlier had not happened, bringing new pain, new torment, new need and painful memory all at once.
The Witch Queen of Lothlórien continued to trace her way down his torso, circling his belly repeatedly. It was as if she scrawled symbol after symbol upon his quivering flesh. His sex pointed rigidly upward, he could feel the tightness of the sacs drawn close to his body. Haldir trembled helplessly as her slim fingers encompassed the vulnerable down-covered orbs, her nails biting lightly into the join.
Waves of pleasure thundered through him, pounded in his ears, the pain mixed delicately as her nails raked the soft downy captives and Haldir whimpered uselessly trying to draw his legs up, together, only succeeding in spreading himself further for her, raising his hips in apparent entreaty. Heat washed his face and his ears tingled painfully. Dizziness danced in and out of his
consciousness and when the breeze brushed his overheated skin he mewled helplessly thrusting into the air.
He burned for relief. It was an age since he had been brought here. Another since he had awakened. Every bit of flesh burned. Galadriel dabbled her fingers in the dread chalice and then slid her fingers up and down the rigid burning shaft of his need.
Haldir cried out, body spasming in its net of leather. His breath rushed through him like the raging waters of the Nimrodel at spring thaw. His hands were fisted so tight that he could feel the tiny half moons of his nails cutting into his palms. Heat encompassed his genitals as if burning oil had been poured upon them. A flash of pain so sharp and so painful it took his breath away and left him limp and shivering, waiting for--praying for the agony to change into pleasure. Helpless pleasure crashing through him, cresting higher and higher as if called by Ithil's touch.
Helpless entreaty for freedom as his limbs struggled in their restraints. Muscles stood out in sharp relief. The other Elves hovered on the edge of his awareness but they did not touch him, as he had feared, as he needed. If he had voice he would have begged them to take him, to relieve him. It was too much to be borne by one Elf. Tears blinded his eyes and he mewled like a wildcat in season.
Soft fingers stroked from his tight drawn orbs to the entrance of his body. Passion leapt and burned higher, flaming through him without relief. Galadriel curled her fingers against the sensitive flesh between his sex and the doorway to his body and he arched and twisted. Shouting helplessly, soft whimpered pleadings muffled by the wooden phallus pulled tight between his lips.
The edge of reality softened and blurred as if an artist had taken his brush and smeared the canvas.
A single probing digit coated with that cool liquid fire pushing at the entrance to his body. Haldir cried aloud his fear and his pleas, muffled noise reaching his ears. A soothing voice crooned to him words he did not understand as the finger circled and circled the tight ring guarding his body. Fire burned inward and the ring relaxed. Haldir sobbed as his body was breached by fire and ice.
Cool was the liquid to touch, cooler still the fingers that entered and rubbed with unwanted attention in his body, heat flamed in the wake and Haldir did not think he could stand it. Another finger entered him and Haldir felt he was stretched unbearably. He could not breathe. His heart
pounded, his breath labored in his lungs, fear and passion danced in him and he knew--he *knew* this need was not his.
A sudden unknown touch in a place deep buried in his body brought an unexpected wave of pleasure. Down, down, down he spiraled drawn in its wake. He screamed again, voice gone hoarse long ago. His lashes were dark and spiky with his tears. He arched upward and obeyed the command of his Queen. To ride, to ride and fill himself. Suddenly her words made sense, they were no longer the nonsense words of some long ago forbidden tongue speaking the dark words of a spell.
But she wove a spell about him nonetheless with her soft soothing whispers. "Do not fret, little guardian. Let these touches be as those woven by the one you love. Dream of him you would have fondle your flesh." As she spoke, she suited action to words, curving her slim fingers around his throbbing sex, even as she pressed her other fingers inward, claiming him for her Lord. "It is a dream, edhelneth--just a dream. Dream well of him whose touch you desire. Think of him whose long unbound hair touches your pale flesh. It is harmless, Haldir, harmless. Come for him whom you love."
Lightning shot through him, curling his toes and making his body go rigid. Waves of unadulterated pleasure burned through him, scouring him senseless, his body trembling in the throes of passion. Pulses of liquid fire burned through him erupting from the crown of his penis. Celeborn's name screamed long and low beneath the bit echoed clearly to those who watched as Haldir's release was torn from him by long slim fingers urging his completion even as her words painted for him his most secret desire.
Haldir shuddered, hanging loose-limbed in his bonds. He could not open his eyes. His breath came in and out in deep gulps of air. His head lolled. Shame suffused his cheeks with heat.
Smiling, Galadriel wiped her fingers upon his thigh, touching her hands to his eyes she murmured. "Sleep, edhelneth, sleep. It was but a dream." Carefully, she removed the wooden phallus, drawing her fingers softly along his lips.
Haldir opened hazy eyes and stared at her, a spark of defiance brightening the deep summer blue of his gaze. "No. I will--"
"Will what? Remember? There is nothing to remember. Nothing at all for you to fret about, my little guardian. You overindulged in wine at the revel and have been touched by night terrors and desires. Sleep now and ease your care and sorrow."
Protest died unspoken upon his lips and Haldir felt himself being pulled down into an ever increasing vortex that threatened to suck him into unconsciousness. Galadriel's voice was a distant murmur. And soon, even that was no more as he was cocooned in the soft forgiving arms of darkness.
END PART 1
To Be Continued
Glossary:
Edhelneth - elfling (I've been informed that the hyphens are superfluous. I kinda liked them, but oh well.)
Laurelindórinan - the original name of Lothlórien, before it began to fade.
Kalokian - Quenya male form - shining serpent
Mellyrn - plural - silver-barked trees that bears golden leaves in the winter and green leaves and golden flowers in the spring... so thick that the trees look perpetually golden, known to grow only in Lothlórien.
Sources:
"The Mirror of Galadriel", in the 1973 version of The Fellowship of the Ring by J.R.R. Tolkien
The Languages of Tolkien's Middle-earth by Ruth S. Noel
The Silmarillion by J.R.R. Tolkien, edited by Christopher Tolkien