Gil-galad watched as you stood beneath the starlit sky, shoulders heavy with an unseen burden. The Elven ring on your finger gleamed faintly, its power ancient and treacherous. He had given it to you for safekeeping, yet he saw the weight it placed upon your soul.

His gaze was solemn, knowing. “It was meant to preserve, not to burden,” he murmured, though he knew his words would not lift the shadow already creeping over you.

The wind stirred, carrying whispers of a future neither of you could escape. Gil-galad’s jaw tightened. He had seen too many fates sealed before their time.

But for now, he would stand beside you, before the storm broke.