Arrival

When she arrived in Lórien, all she could do as the peace of the Blessed Realm washed over her was sink to her knees, sobbing helplessly.

"Melyanna?"

The sound of her old name brought her head up, focusing tear-blurred eyes on the figure of her lord and lady, walking towards her with a concerned expressions on their faces. Of course: Irmo knew what occurred in his realm, and her distress could probably be easily felt. That thought caused her to drop her head again, as a keening sob broke from her throat.

"Shh, child. It will be alright."

She couldn't see how, but she did feel slightly better in Irmo's embrace, like a child held by her father after a nightmare, as Estë soothingly rubbed her back.

"You will see him again someday…and Námo will take care of him until then. I am very interested to meet this ellon who stole your heart," Estë murmured to her.

"I will see my husband again…but never my daughter, not until the remaking," Melian whispered.

"Ah," Irmo whispered sympathetically.

"I am not strong enough to face this, my lord," Melian said softly. Irmo did not answer right away, but lifted his hand to brush the tears from her cheeks.

"What do you want, my child?" he finally asked her.

"Let me sleep, my lord. Until I am strong enough to face my loss," Melian whispered. Irmo sighed softly.

"Sleep then, Dear Gift. Sleep and forget your sorrows for a time…" Irmo whispered as the Maia went limp against him. He studied her tear-stained features as he thought, exchanging a sorrowful glance with Estë. Coming up with an idea, he quickly confirmed it with his wife before he reached out and touched Vairë's mind, briefly asking her a question. Upon receiving an affirmation, he scooped up the unconscious Melian, carrying her to a deserted part of Lórien, where none now ventured.

Vairë was already there, spreading soft cloth on the bier that had held one Queen, and would now hold another. Irmo gently laid Melian down, and Estë absently straitened the elaborate circlet she wore that marked her as Doriath's Queen. Vairë pulled a delicate blanket up to the sleeping Maia's stomach, then stepped back. She gave Irmo and Estë a gentle, sympathetic smile, then left to return to her own demesne.

Irmo sighed and pulled Estë into his arms for a long moment, then set wards that would see that the slumbering Maia would remain undisturbed, before they returned to the main part of the gardens.

Death

Námo's eyes gave nothing away as he looked at Lúthien, waiting almost patiently for Beren to arrive. She had come first, ironically, knowing that Beren would cling to his life longer than he should for her. The second of her family to arrive in his halls, but Námo knew with the prescience that was both gift and curse that she would not be the last.

Lúthien straightened almost imperceptibly as a new presence could be felt in the room: and then Beren was there, the lovers who had defied death now reunited in it.

"Are you ready then, Children?" Námo asked softly. Beren and Lúthien glanced between them, then Lúthien nodded.

"Although, if I may ask, my mother…" she trailed off. Námo nodded, a single dip of his head.

"She did return to these shores after the death of your father," he answered her. "She lies asleep in Lórien, until she is strong enough to face her grief." Lúthien sighed.

"Tis the only thing I regret," she whispered, hanging her head. "That I must cause so much pain to those whom I love and would never wish to harm." Námo watched her compassionately.

"Fear not, child," he said softly. "Thy mother was my brother's and his wife's long before she chose to cleave to thy father, and Estë and Irmo shall care for her as if she was their own child in truth." Lúthien nodded, comforted slightly by that.

"Will you carry my love to my parents, my lord?" she asked softly. "Tell them…tell them I know not where I go now, but that I shall always love them."

"I will," Námo replied gravely. Lúthien squared her shoulders.

"Then I am ready," she said firmly.

Awakening

"Melyanna."

The voice was soft, but something in Melian instinctively responded.

"Melyanna. Wake now, child, for you are needed."

Melian stirred, waking from her deep trance.

"Melian."

The sound of her Sindarin name woke her fully, and she opened her eyes, meeting the soft blue-grey of her lord's.

"Yes, my Lord Irmo?" she asked as she accepted his hand to sit up. "What has happened?"

"Many things, my child, not the least being we have gone to war against Morgoth to succor the remains of your people and that of the Noldor, and have over thrown the fallen one and banished him beyond the Doors of Night," Irmo replied.

"He's gone? For good?" Melian whispered in shock. Then something else Irmo had said caught her attention. "The remnants of my people?" She blanched. "The Silmaril?"

"Yes," Irmo replied gently. "The sons of Fëanor attacked your kingdom for the jewel, which your grandson refused to surrender. They did not find it, however, for it was carried to safety by your great-granddaughter. It is on her behalf I have woken you."

"My great-granddaughter?" Melian whispered in confusion, new grief adding to her old.

"Elwing is her name," Irmo told her. "She married another Peredhil, and together with the power of the Silmaril, they broke the enchantments we laid upon these shores, and plead for our aid against Morgoth. We granted their plea. She and her husband Eärendil were granted the right to choose which kindred they would belong to. They both chose Elven-kind, as did one of their sons...but the other chose mortality. Her husband sails the Sea of Night with the Silmaril on his brow as a sign of hope, so she is often alone, and grieving." Irmo looked at Melian compassionately.

"Those of your people who died when the Fëanorians attacked will someday be reborn," he told her. "But Elwing is facing a grief that only you can empathize with. Would you be willing to aid her?" Melian took a deep breath, settling her emotions. Irmo was right, she realized. Her great-granddaughter needed her. She may have abandoned her people, but she would not abandon her kin.

"I will," she said firmly, not realizing she had taken her own first step to healing.

Heirlooms

"Why am I supposed to go to this? I had thought living all the way out here would get me out of all the social obligations. And I'll be going alone: it's not like Eärendil can simply not fly one night."

Melian carefully did not laugh at her great-granddaughter.

"Because you are related to Olwë, and of the royal house of Doriath," she replied. "It would have been rude for them not to invite you. And I do believe you will enjoy it, Elwing." Elwing sighed.

"I think I would enjoy it more if Eärendil could come," she said quietly. "But what will I wear!" Melian did laugh, then.

"Your blue gown is certainly lovely enough, dear. And…" The Maia stood, rummaging in a small chest Elwing had never seen her open before.

"This should have been your mother's," she said softly, revealing the beautiful circlet she had worn as Doriath's Queen. "Wear it, and show everyone that you truly are a Princess."

Elwing stood speechless, tears in her eyes, before tightly hugging her great-grandmother. Melian hugged her back fiercely, grateful she still had some of her family in her life.

Home

The Elf stepped from the long darkness of Mandos, enjoying the feeling of the Sun on his face. He hadn't been very impressed when She had first risen, a change from the eternal starlight he and his people had been in. He'd recognized it, as he had Ithil before her, the only one of his people who had seen the light of the Two Trees.

Now, he savored her warmth, as he wondered what he would do now. He had been king, once, but he did not know if he would be so again. What life was there for him here, on these far shores? His home had laid far to the East, now drowned beneath dark waters.

Then he saw her. Hesitantly she stepped forward, as if unsure of her welcome: as if it could be anything less than absolute joy. He stepped forward, eyes now seeing only her, as her tentative smile began to grow. Then he was running, as was she, and when their lips met, Elwë knew he was home.

Sailing

When Elwing greeted Melian with a slightly distracted frown, the Maia knew something was amiss.

"Alright, Elwing," she said with a smile. "What has you preoccupied this afternoon?" Elwing sighed.

"My son's wife is sailing," she said softly. Melian frowned briefly, thinking.

"Celebrían? Daughter of Celeborn and Galadriel?" she asked. Elwing nodded.

"Why is she sailing?" Melian asked.

"She was captured by Orcs," Elwing said flatly. Melian winced internally.

"I don't think she will wish to stay in Tol Eressëa or Tirion alone, though as Finarfin's granddaughter, she will have a place there. I'm going to invite her here, if I can," Elwing continued. Melian nodded.

"I suspect that will be allowed," she replied. "Especially if she spends time in Lórien before that. How badly was she injured, do you know?"

"I don't," Elwing admitted. "Only that it was bad enough my son could not heal her." Elwing turned, looking out to the East.

"I fear for him," she admitted softly. "He has already lost so much." Melian hugged her.

"He is strong," the Maia assured her great-granddaughter. "And when he finally sails, he will find his family here for him." Elwing nodded, slightly comforted by that.

Another week found them both at the quays of Avallónë. Melian and Elwing had easily secured permission for Celebrían to return to the small community that had sprung up around Elwing's tower. They watched the ship slowly come to dock, and the Elves that had travelled on it began to disembark. Their attention was caught by a silver-haired elleth, the hair color so reminiscent of her father proclaiming her identity. She seemed slightly lost, her expression hinting at exhaustion and pain.

"Celebrían?" Elwing said softly, stepping forward to catch the attention of the elleth. Celebrían looked up, tired eyes catching Elwing's, who smiled softly.

"I'm very glad to finally meet you, daughter," she said gently, but sincerely. Even wounded as she was, the daughter of Galadriel and Celeborn was no fool.

"Lady Elwing," she said in surprise.

"Ah, none of that," Elwing scolded gently. "We are family, there is no call for formality." She winked at her daughter-in-law. "I never cared much for it anyway." Celebrían actually smiled at that, Melian was heartened to see. She stepped forward now, catching Celebrían's eye.

"Nor did I," she said with a soft smile. "Come now, dear, I'm sure you wish to rest after your journey."

"Where?" Celebrían asked, hesitantly.

"I thought you might like it best to come stay with me," Elwing said with slight uncertainty. "You could also stay here in Tol Eressëa or go to Tirion, but my tower is a quieter environment that I thought you might enjoy more." Celebrían smiled. It was fragile and brittle, but true.

"I would like that, thank you," she replied sincerely. "But will it not take a long time to reach it?"

"No," Elwing grinned. "One of the advantages of having a Maia for a great-grandmother." Melian laughed at that, and took both of their hands, and thought them all to Elwing's home.

Sundering

It was Eärendil who brought the news, first to his wife and her great-grandmother, for he did not know how to break it to his daughter-in-law. Arwen had chosen mortality for love, as Melian's own daughter had.

"Celebrían?" Elwing said softly, hesitantly. The elleth turned, and at the expression on the other's face, closed her eyes tightly.

"Which one?" she asked, painfully.

"Arwen," Melian replied gently. "She chose mortality for the man she loves." Celebrían nodded, a tear sliding down her face.

"I always knew it was a possibility that I would loose my children," she said. "But…"

Elwing embraced her tightly. "It's still not easy to loose them," she said, knowledge born of pain in her voice. "I too, knew knew my sons would face the choice, but learning what Elros had chosen was still heartbreaking."

"I never even knew my daughter could do what she did," Melian said softly, joining the embrace, "But I, too, know the pain of loosing them as long as Arda lasts."

Maia, Perelleth, and Elleth stood together, united in their unique loss of being sundered from the children until the Remaking.

"We will see them again someday," Melian whispered softly. "We will see them again."

So this is actually an old story of mine that came to me when I was literally falling unconscious under anesthesia when I was getting my wisdom teeth out. So...parts of this were written under the influence of high strength painkillers... Which is one of the reasons it's taken so long to publish. I mixed up who Melian served to begin with. *sigh* And then I just forgot about it... anyway, it's here now, and I hope you enjoyed it!