Latest Posts by apocdj - Page 3

Quoting myself pre episode 8 here:

But who knows maybe show runners are gaslighting viewers here and he’ll be killed off just like that next episode Mirdania-style (hoping against hope she survived). But Sam Hazeldine’s interviews sound like he’ll be in it for a bit longer. Good🤞

Whatever you hope they do it’s not going to be innovative, but the road most traveled.

Sam’s interviews sounded like that because he had integrated into the cast so well and would’ve liked to stay.

If you ask me it was a capital mistake. Adar outshone all other characters in season 2. But the course was set. Simon Tolkien apparently intervened to keep him longer. I suppose because he saw his incredible potential. And yet they offed their outstanding original character, carelessly, unsympathetically. It sucked big time because it left most fans struggling emotionally. I did not need that.

I’m venting…

Yeah, it mirrored the first episode, a thematic frame, cool visuals, full circle blah blah - a clichéd way of doing this to establish symmetry and a means to get rid of him fast and visually pleasurable and still make it look oh so meaningful.

There could’ve been another outcome of course. Adar wasn’t alike Sauron, he was not a monster. Adar was superior in heart and mind, a large part of him untainted from dark poison.

He should have had a better end because this show is all about symbolic messages and this one sends a message that he was not deserving, although he had suffered the most of all characters and was truly repenting - he apparently deserved something far worse.

Ironically it wasn’t even an end to Sauron what Adar did to him in the beginning. Sauron was goo for a thousand years then quickly bounced back eating worms and people and is fine now. Adar though looks terminally dead. He’s gone. Can you imagine he resurrects in a cheesy painting like Galadriel? He’s the vaguely queer coded villain, he’ll stay buried (you wish he was buried), it’s the law.

And shouldn’t have Sauron ended him, if it was meant to be symmetrical, shouldn’t there have been a fight?

Shouldn’t there have been a fight with Arondir?

Shouldn’t Galadriel have at least voiced her disapproval of the murder? I’ll give it to her that Adar’s death gave her the wrath to withstand Sauron finally. She fought him with anger in her heart, totally over him, but not over her twin flame Adar.

What happened to Adar was worse than what happened to Sauron. Adar was betrayed of his final hope to get better, betrayed by his children whom he loved and thought loved him back, knowing his aim to prevent enslavement for them has been futile. You can shoehorn a symmetry with Sauron’s situation in the beginning but it substantially isn’t. Adar’s actions always came from a place of love, care and solidarity, of accountability.

It should’ve been Sauron dealing him the final blow, not Glûg. It was never shown why Glûg would suddenly want to murder him brutally and in cold blood. It was just for shock value and done with the intention to show how irredeemable Uruk truly are, even the most humanized ones. As if Adar was delusional about them deserving dignity. Probably the story needs them to be bad again, after all the Third Age hasn’t improved concerning the othering of Orcs. One dilemma less for the show, it seems…

He may be in Valinor now, perhaps, who knows with these writers… The thing is, I don’t care because I won’t see it on screen.

Nothing will come of anything Adar has done and fought for, he is erased from the narrative and I hate it.

It lowers expectations for season 3 and, not gonna lie, I kinda resent the show for doing that.

“Good girl.”

kinktober #1

Lovesong

kinktober day one | daddy kink | cw: 18+, self-explanatory. actually rather vanilla-ish. he is sweet. no violence whatsoever. | word count 3,2k | click here for full list of planned fics | author's note under the cut |

Clean water. A bedroll that didn't reek of mildew and filthy iron. Clean clothing, practically a luxury in current circumstances. The villager who had brought it was a small, mousy thing with a baby strapped to her chest, with it being the probable reason uruks left her alone and let her pass throughout the camp unbothered. The southern folk had a variety of coloured fabrics unlike anything encountered by most non-nobles in the West lands. Including you.

You carefully wrapped up your new clothes in your threadbare towel and gathered your necessities before exiting your temporary dwelling. A nearby uruk gave you an appraising glance and, having received your nod, gestured in the appropriate direction. It was not a secret you were a favourite amongst the many slaves and servants. Truthfully, you were never a slave in the first place, but those were semantics that hardly mattered. You worked for your keep like everyone else.

The bathing area was guarded by two Uruks, ones you knew, and they knew you. Greetings were exchanged and the two traded a quick salacious glance as they let you pass through the thick shrubbery surrounding the pools of hot springs. It was a blessing for your party to stumble upon them during your wandering through the Southlands.

Despite their normal state of battle-rugged filth, Uruks did like to bathe. Sure, their standards of cleanliness were much different from humans, and even further than those of Elves, but such was their wild nature. Uruks could be no more at fault for their habits than races considered noble.

It was this realisation that brought you to know the strange scarred Elf sat sprawled against the side of the basin. At least you guessed he was an Elf, or had been, at some point. His rangy, sharp features and pointed ears coupled with the scarring covering every inch of his body made for a mesmerising view. Like a difficult puzzle, he elicited feelings of awe, wonder and trepidation. His eyes opened, two angular slits, and surveyed your approaching form.

On silent feet and watched by his bottomless pools of liquid onyx, you briskly deposited your items on a nearby stone and slid out of your filthy, ragged clothes. The only thing that was subject to salvage was underwear. Relief washed over you as warm, dry air gently touched your bare skin slick with stale sweat and dirt.

“Melmë.” He spoke up suddenly. Water splashed over the edges.

“Adar,” you replied, bowing your head respectfully.

The final article of clothing - a pair of underwear - slid swiftly down your legs. You hurried to step into the pool, acutely aware the way Adar's silent appraisal of your body sent shivers down your flesh. Having spent so long in an Uruk camp, self-consciousness was a thing of the past.

It was anticipation that coiled in your tummy. Expectant, you dunked underwater to wet your hair and run fingers through it to dislodge any debris. Arms connected with your torso, bringing you up above the water. Adar's chest, all lean, textured skin, connected with your back. Where the water was lukewarm, he was pleasantly warm. His palms slid over your chest, brushing past your erect nipples with a petal-soft touch.

You sighed. Adar rumbled.

“Have you forgotten your manners?” His voice resonated throughout your skull as a wry observation.

In truth, you did. The mere prospect of feeling clean had overshadowed everything else in your mind, giving you tunnel vision. Even now, faced well with the prospect of punishment, you could hardly care. Hardly focus on anything beside the scent of soap and, perhaps, the slowly hardening appendage twitching at your rear. You hummed non-commitally and hummed some more when Adar's arms tightened up to keep you in place.

“What you say?” Voice lower, harsher, his strong arms squeezed you just shy of painful.

“I did forget my manners,” you chewed on your bottom lip, contemplating a clever plan to evade Adar's grasp and make a dash for the soap.

“...” Impatient rumble, hand sneaking to none-too-gently grope at your breast.

“Adar!” You quickly added, halting the hand and turning touch towards gentle. Electric sparks shot through your nipple as Adar toyed with it, flicking the hardened nub with the calloused pad of his thumb. You sighed, locking your hips in place. There was a limit to misbehaving.

Somewhat of a theatrical sigh left the Uruk. “You must apologise and make amends, melmë,” he chided, switching his hands to award your other nipple the same arduous torture. A lick of flame burnt bright in the pit of your belly and Adar instantly knew of it, having brought a large hand to press your hips against his own, daring you to push back.

“I am sorry,” you sputtered. For forgetting to greet him properly, yes, but not for wanting a bath. You remained frozen, awaiting a rough grab or a harsh tweak to your abused breast, heart fluttering somewhere in your throat.

It didn't come. Instead, you felt the ghost of a smile brush over the shell of your ear. “There. Was it truly difficult?” The rumble of his voice curved around your budding arousal and pushed it towards forefront.

“No, Adar,” you said. It sounded very close to petulant whining.

It only seemed to amuse him further. He did not laugh, no, but nonetheless the splashing of water was joined by a terse, scratchy noise. A rich sound you echoed with the ghost of a grin.

“Well, then.” Adar released your hip and reached somewhere behind himself.

All business-like, he brought the object in front of you and released your breast to rub it in between his palms underwater. Scents of pine and lye made you sigh in relief and happiness as water foamed. As Adar's hands connected with your skin to drag the fragrant bar along your stomach, your shoulders dropped.

Slowly, he scrubbed at the soft parts of your front. Palms applied gentle pressure, scrubbing away the grime, with fingertips trailing behind, blunt nails raking over clean skin, leaving discoloured lines that disappeared as soon as they were made. Not leaning into the touch was not an option. Your breasts pushed forward, you shamelessly threw your head back and to the side, burying your face in the crook of his neck.

Adar's wet black tresses smelled of smoke on the water. Swallowing the urge to nose at the strong line of his jaw, you pushed yourself further into his hands as they slid up, cleansing your sides and ribcage. Your nipples stood proud and hard, peeking just above the water. Patient as ever, Adar slid the soap once, twice over your breasts and moved on to scrub under your collarbones.

“Adar...” You mumbled, breasts tingling.

“Patience is a virtue,” he chuffed, taking a sharp dive down. He traced your hipbones, squeezed and rubbed the meat on top of them before using them as handles to make you take a step forward. Grumbling, you did, and were rewarded with a pinching squeeze at your ass cheek and a click of his tongue. “Impertinent!”

As Adar's hands made quick work of your neck and back, you mumbled. “I am sorry. It has been such a long time...” You trailed off into a mewl as he squeezed the back of your neck as if you were a misbehaving kitten. It never ceased to make your knees weak. There was something so - possessive, commanding - impertinent, damn it! In that gesture. A new wave of heat flooded your face. Whether one borne of indignation or pleasure was yet to be determined by you.

Adar could read you like an open book in any case. He pretended not to notice the audible hitch in your breath whenever he lost his temper and did something particularly audacious. Like now, for example, when he finished stripping the outermost layer of your skin and abruptly pulled you into himself, backing up all the way to the shallow end of the pool. Your pebbling nipples ignored and hips securely held by his lithe, strong arms, you found yourself sat firmly atop his lap.

The basic instinct was to slam your knees together, irregardless of his long legs falling open and his twitching length slipping along your center. Adar allowed no such luxury. With an ease clearly mocking, he pried open your legs to hang over his as he splayed comfortably in shallow waters. Soapy water dulled the sensation somewhat but did nothing to cool the sheer heat coming from his half-erect cock. Squirming, you were rewarded with another twitch and an irritated rumble.

“Melmë.” A warning.

“Adar.” A breathed acknowledgement. A mewling squeal, really.

He tsk-ed and shook his head, followed by a low mumble of quenya that got past your ears when he used his palms to glide over the inside of your thighs right to where he was most wanted.

“Stay still.” He commanded, unvoiced threat obvious in his voice. “We are getting clean.”

“No funny business,” you muttered demurely, moreso to remind yourself. Adar's punishment was never outright cruel - despite his supposed ‘universally evil’ nature he did not ever take unwilling lovers or bestow harm upon them they did not ask for. He did get creative with enforcing consequences, though. His patience was of an Elven standard.

As for punishment, so for praise. Being and staying good was by far more rewarding than riling him up into a lustful frenzy. You sat patiently, choking down every shiver, as he slowly, tenderly massaged the fat above your pubic bone and squeezed the plump parts of your cunt. Even with so little stimulation, little zaps of lightning, miniature thunderbolts erupted from your clit and into the depths of your cunt.

Your eyelashes fluttered, wet and heavy, and you closed your eyes with a sigh, allowing your body to fall lax atop the tall male. He responded with a long, satisfied sigh and a teasing pat to your pussy. Continuing his clever ministrations, Adar was fully prepared for the jerk that him dipping two fingers between your outer lips provoked in your body.

“Talya,” he whispered, hot breath caressing the shell of your ear. Steady.

“Adar!” You whined, embarrassed. Being spoken to as if you were a spooked horse: a new low even for you. The wave of lust it elicited was undeniable. You weren't fully ready to submit to it just yet. Neither was it going to forsake you: with your clit held firmly between Adar's fingers, shameful lust throbbed.

“Lapta, melmë.” He released your clit to dip down to your entrance, creeping lower, past the tender skin of your perineum, and brushed over your puckered rosebud. You could not hold back the whine. “Sshh,” Adar rumbled gently, but relented, bringing his wandering hand back up to rest over your cunt as his cock, now standing tall and proud, poked at the junction of your leg and hip.

Begging every God for Adar to do something and fighting every urge to squirm and press against nearest available surface, you panted loud, aware of his dark eyes intently studying the side of your face. Every look cut sharper than Elvish make blades; you dared not to open your eyes, instead remaining lax-mouthed and knit-browed under Adar's scrutiny.

The longer you waited, the harder he became. When your bottom lip disappeared under your incisor - a small act of rebellion - you felt Adar's own lips stretch into a grin against your temple.

“You are being so good for me,” he said. The pace of his hand atop your mound picked up slightly, parting your outer lips in the process. He was almost touching your clit and you were almost going insane. “Do you feel clean?”

“Yes, Adar,” you said quickly, thoughtlessly. Whatever he was asking for, the answer would be yes irregardless.

“Are you certain?” The male absent-mindedly rubbed his cheek over yours, as if he was deep in important thought. A soft gasp erupted from you; he smiled. “We must be through with what we do, melmë.” His fingers - O Valar! - finally dipped inside tour slit and massaged the sides of your clit. The slippery wetness that surrounded it was unmistakable even underwater. Adar's cock twitched, again, hot and demanding against your leg. “You must tell me if I was thorough.”

“Ah, yes, Adar!” You moaned brokenly as he rubbed the V of his index and middle finger over your clit, rising the hood of it up and down but not quite touching the sensitive pearl itself. “T-thank you, Adar.”

The pace picked up, his fingers being much too close to where you wanted him most and tortuously not enough.

“You are thankful?” He inquired impishly.

“Yesss,” you hissed as a slippery finger accidentally connected with your pearl, causing your whole pelvis to clench pitifully around nothing. It brought your focus towards the empty, achy feeling in the pit of your belly. “Thank you, Adar.”

A quick, silent kiss to your temple was your reward. “Ah!” He huffed. “You are too good to me, melmë. What about your reward?”

“M-my reward?” You gasped.

“Mhm,” Adar hummed non-commitally as his cock jerked in curiosity.

Any reward for you in this scenario was guaranteed to be pleasurable for him and he knew it. He moulded you like putty in his hands, like a sculptor carved angels out of hard blocks of marble. Your body, warm with arousal and quivering at the most miniscule of touches, sang to him in a choir of rushing blood, flushed cheeks and thrumming pulse in areas most sensitive.

Engorged with need, your clit pulsed. Although your head was fogged by an opaque haze, the words of your deepest desire did not come easy.

“Um,” you said eloquently, words tangling on your tongue as soon as your lust-addled mind formulated them into something resembling a coherent sentence.

“Yes?”

This particular whine you could not contain. “Please do not make me say it, Adar...” You whispered wetly.

He chuckled. “How else am I supposed to find out what it is you desire? I cannot read minds, melmë.” He answered, voice tilted, mocking and encouraging in equal parts. Another “accidental” brush over your clit had you in shambles, quivering and stuttering where you sat.

“I want... You inside of me,” you moaned in shameful yearning.

Two long fingers had no problems with finding the puffy edges to your welcoming entrance and curled expertly. It did very little to quell the hunger in the very depths of it but your cunt held onto the digits nonetheless. Adar's cock pulsed as his hips shifted, seemingly, on their own accord and disobedient to their stoic master's will. Adar was rapidly losing his patience.

“N-no,” you protested. “I want...”

“You want my cock?” Voice like thick crushed velvet, molten like hot honey, Adar demanded your obedience. “Carpa! Say it!”

“I want your cock, Adar!” You whined, giving into the urge to bear down on his fingers and simultaneously clench up around them.

It wasn't particularly graceful nor gentle when Adar withdrew his fingers from your aching cunt and lifted you out of the bath just enough for your ass to be raised above water level. Resting your forearms on the hard ground, you blindly pushed back towards him, your bare cunt coming in contact with his hip. Within seconds the blunt, leaking tip of his cock was nosing at your entrance, silken head parting your lips to slip inside of you.

The ache within your loins was strong. Powerful enough for you to forsake any pretense of patience and propriety and impale yourself right on that long, solid cock so hard it knocked the air out of your lungs. At last! The vast emptiness within you filled, your back fell into a natural arch as your buttocks connected with the firmness of Adar's hips and thighs. You felt the deep, calming breath he took as his belly expanded with it.

A muttered curse preceded the drag of his cock as Adar withdrew, slowly, savouring the hug of your slick walls swollen and throbbing with need. Inadvertedly you clenched in response, already missing the head of his cock nestled deep within your cunt. It was all the encouragement he needed to slam inside of you with a feral growl baring his teeth and putting the whites of his eyes on display.

You moaned, long and loud, way exceeded in your capacity to care for the harsh surface hurting the delicate skin of your forearms. Only the steady push and pull of Adar's hips kept you tethered in this reality. Not the ominously shaking bushes and not the low rumble of the ever-awake Uruk campsite derailed you from the journey to your peak.

Adar's hands palmed - no, pawed at your breasts. He tweaked your nipples just the way you liked it, pistoning his hips in and out of you at a rapid pace. Savouring your moans and clenching of your cunt around him. Groaning with the force of your combined desire, jagged and jumbled mixture of Quenya and Common Tongue.

Tethering on the edge, you mewled for him.

“Adar...”

It seemed like he'd lied previously about his mind reading ability or a lack of thereof. He knew exactly what you needed and how you needed it, brining his palm to force it between your legs. You clit pulsed as he rubbed at it, adding the squelching noises of your cunt into the cacophony of your moans and splashing of water. His other hand grasped your throat, pulling your body backwards into him like a taut bowstring.

Moist and spit-slick, his mouth covered yours just as the heat in your belly exploded like an inferno. Heatwaves and aftershocks followed and Adar fucked you right through them, pulse after pulse echoing on his cock, prolonging your orgasm and wringing out his. His cock spasmed within you and he moaned right into yourself mouth, tongue snagging on your teeth, yours and his clashing.

You couldn't care less. The full feeling of his cock plugging your cunt full of his seed and the slack, sated if fleeting expression on his face was your own little spot of heaven in the utter (and often literal) Mordor of your surroundings. You sucked on Adar's tongue - gently, akin to a kitten - and safely deposited the memory of this into the very depths of your mind. Comforts had a tendency not to last.

You lamented the loss of Adar within you as soon as he softened enough to wetly slip out. An absence of his cock within you was so hard, it became a presence. Dripping with seed, your pussy clenched around nothing - ever the insatiable thing - and you made efforts to escape Adar's grasp.

Futile.

“We must get clean again,” he stated matter-of-fact, gathering you even closer to himself as his fingers turned your forearms up to display the dirt and scratches that resulted from your chaotic coupling.

When they were clean, Adar's lips traced each line, single-minded and petal-soft. His eyes were eons away.

Polished up the Uruks here a little bit and give them some half-decent semblance of a society, if to make some sense of what Adar is/does. If my Quenya sucks, I am sorry. I'm better with Sindarin :c

we are getting nasty in the bath because, well, I've seen the state of his camps and I'm pretty sure a UTI in those circumstances may actually be deadly. some kind of sauronian morgothian super-evil-bacteria is what we don't need in our sexy times 💀

Contrary to the single playlist theme of this kinktober compilation, I had Adam Sandler's stand up show playing in the background when I wrote this. Specifically the song about Chris Farley repeated like 3 times. Who knew my personal style icon could sing that well!? Damn! Go Adam!

Sam Hazeldine as Adar

The Rings of Power S2E3 - The Eagle and the Sceptre

Wounds That Have Endured

Unable to accept Adar's demise, you will stop at nothing to bring him back, even if it means doing the unspeakable and wielding a power that is not yours.

Warnings: none

Words: 1300

A/N: Still aboard the Pain Train after S2E8, this is an attempt to make things right, although it is still bittersweet...

You kneel beside Adar's still form, your trembling hands pressed against the damp ground. The weight of the silence is unbearable, broken only by your quiet sobs as they spill into the dim air. Your fingers then trace the lines of his face, which you had done countless times again and again, committing them to your memory. However, now each touch is desperate and fragile, as if your grief could will him back to life. But he remains unmoving.

The camp that had been bustling with life the night before now lies abandoned, empty and desolate, the Uruks which had occupied it have moved elsewhere, at the bidding of their now master. 

Soft footsteps approach and you take Adar’s small dagger from his belt, clutching it so hard your knuckles strain against your skin, preparing yourself to defend your fallen love from further defilement. 

However, you were not expecting a familiar face, one that you had not seen since the breaking of Orodruin, since the night where you had severed all ties with your homeland, turning your back to the sun and trees and rivers, starting a life anew in Mordor.

You are stunned, sickened even, to see pity as you look up to meet his gaze. Knowing the pain you've caused him, you feel utterly undeserving.

Arondir’s hand presses against your shoulder as he kneels, his fingers moving with gentleness over Adar’s face, closing the uruk’s eyes in silence.

Your head hangs down as you cup Adar’s cheek, your tears falling atop his pale face. “It was never supposed to happen like this… I was always the one who would have died first, not him, never him. I should have been here.”

The elf shakes his head. “You would have died with him.”

“Yes. I should have.”

“Have you not seen enough death?” He pulls you into an embrace, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “I know this pain you feel.”

Before you can respond, you are joined by another.

Gil-galad steps forth with quiet authority, his gaze sharp and discerning as he takes in the scene before him. His golden armor gleams in the pale light, yet it is still sullied with the labours of battle, scratched, bloodied and chipped in parts.

His eyes fall on Arondir, who rises from his kneeling position, his expression grave.

"The father of the Uruks is no more," he says, his voice low and steady. "With Adar dead, they will have no choice but to fall entirely under Sauron’s control. He has now gained an army."

Gil-galad’s jaw tightens, though he says nothing at first. His silence carries the weight of one who has seen too much war, too many lives lost. Finally, he speaks, his tone cold and resolute. "Then we have no time to waste. We must find Galadriel."

The High King’s  gaze settles on you, his expression unreadable, as he assesses you. Before he can speak, Arondir steps forward, standing between you and the elven king.

“She was Adar’s partner,” Arondir begins, “With him gone, she has no place among the Uruk under Sauron, nor will she find welcome in Pelargir amongst her kin.”

Gil-galad’s brow furrows, his eyes flicking back to you, his stern demeanour softening slightly. 

Arondir presses on, “I ask for mercy on her behalf. She stood by him, yes—but now she is alone. Let her find a place among the elves, for her heart is torn and no other realm will accept her as she is.”

A heavy silence hangs between them, as the weight of his plea for you lingers and Gil-galad considers his request.

Kneeling before you, the king's eyes narrow in careful study. Your eyes widen at the sight of the blue gem set in the ring he wears on his middle finger.

Clutching at his forearm, you plead, “Please, High King! Heal him! We will gather the uruks, set off to Mordor and never stray again.”

He clasps his hand over yours, prying you off of him, his action firm, but tender. “He met his end, he is beyond any healing now. I cannot do anything… I pity your loss, child, but I would not heal the one who brought ruin to Eregion.”

You shake your head, gathering your shaky breaths. “Adar was not himself! Please- I feel it, there is still some life in him, he can still be saved..”

“Soon he should be at peace and if the Valar are merciful he shall heal in the Halls. Come now, let us leave. I will send a party to tend to his body and you may bury him according to your customs.” 

“No, I will not!” You cry, wiping at a new surge of tears with the back of your bloodied wrist.

As Gil-galad rises to his feet, the ring slips off his finger, falling with no sound.

All around you fades into silence as you gaze into the deep blue gem, your hand reaching out to grasp it, its gold band sliding down your index finger with ease, fitting as if it was made for you. The world that moments ago felt distant, full of blurred movement and muffled sounds, sharpens. Everything is suddenly vivid. The ring glows faintly, casting a soft, ethereal light that pulses with the rhythm of your heartbeat. 

For the first time in what seems like years, a deep peace settles over your mind. The thoughts that had been racing, the fears, the uncertainties—they all drift away, muted by the steady calm the ring offers. Now, you know what you shall do next.

Placing a hand upon Adar’s countless wounds, your breathing turns shallower as each of them begins to fade, leaving behind the faintest of scars. The dark blood that is splattered across him also disappears, flowing back into his flesh and slowly he begins to not resemble a corpse anymore.

Yet, beneath that peace, that clarity, something lurks—a faint, distant warning. A pulling sensation begins, gentle at first.  It's subtle, just a slight weakness in your limbs, a heaviness that wasn't present moments ago. You do your best to ignore it, fighting the tiredness that makes you want to shut your eyes and let yourself drift off into a slumber.

When you open them again, the world tilts to its side as you begin to collapse, but before you can topple onto the tawny ground, a gentle hand steadies you. Gil-galad kneels at your right, while Arondir remains to your left, clasping your elbow to keep you upright.

They exchange a look, unbeknownst to you.

Meanwhile, Adar’s breathing resumes, albeit shallow, his body regaining strength as yours drains. Slowly, his eyes open. His green gaze, sharp and intense, sweeps over the scene before him, taking in the sight of your frail form, your trembling hands still outstretched toward him, the ring of power set around your finger. He stirs, sitting up with effort.

He speaks, his voice raw and weakened, but yet alive, and no other sound would ever please you more. "What have you done?" His eyes, now vivid with life, lock onto yours.

But you cannot answer. Your vision blurs again, and though you feel Arondir and Gil-galad’s hands holding you, the weakness is too great. Your breath catches in your throat as you look up at Adar, a faint smile curling on your lips despite the weariness that seeps into your very bones.

"I—" you begin, your voice barely a whisper. "I had to…"

A cold fog rises, seeping into the forest, and soon it wraps around you like a shroud.  You can no longer tell where you begin and the mist ends, as if you are becoming one with it, dissolving into the grey haze. 

You look at Adar, who is now sat upright, his face twisted in anguish.

His hand stretches toward you, desperate, but when he reaches into the fog, his fingers pass through, unable to grasp you.

You run your hand over his cheekbone one final time as the world around you blurs and fades, the mist deepening into shimmering silver glass.

I miss him

Sam Hazeldine as Adar

The Rings of Power, S2E1 - Elven Kings Under The Sky

Sam Hazeldine as Adar, The Rings of Power S2E1

It is never too late. Not even for me.

Sam Hazeldine as Adar, The Rings of Power S02E08

You can't kill me.

In time, you will beg me to.

Sam Hazeldine as Adar, The Rings of Power S02E07

Looks can be deceiving.

Charlie Vickers as Halbrand THE RINGS OF POWER Season One