I own nothing.
To be able to converse with beasts was a rare gift, even among the Edhil. Melian had not expected to meet many who could accomplish it, not even west of the Sea in Aman. Truth be told, Melian had greater ease at conversing with some animals rather than others. Her specialty was birds, especially nightingales. She had, after all, taught them how to sing, so very long ago. Melian had known ad forgotten more about the tongues of birds than most Edhil would ever know to start with.
"Did you ever spare much time to speak with the sea gulls when you were in Ennor?"
The gold of Elwing's circlet glinted in the light of Arien's orb and her curls rustled in the wind as she stroked the feathers of the gull perched on her tiny hand. Melian had seen Edhil noblewomen mimic such behavior with falcons, but Elwing wore not the thick leather glove a falconer would have worn, and this sea gull had no jesses or hood. It was too difficult to imagine Elwing as a falconer anyways. She had probably never gone hunting in her life.
She wore a gentle smile completely unlike her normally somber face, relaxed and lacking in wariness. The gull cooed and her smile grew.
"No, Elwing, I am afraid that I did not," Melian explained, watching her great-granddaughter's face intently. "Menegroth was too far inland; the gulls never came that far east."
"That's a pity," Elwing remarked lightly. "I hear such interesting things from sea gulls." The gull that had been resting on her hand flew away, and she walked further down the shore towards the sea, light-footed and certain of her step.
Melian watched her from the dunes. Listened to the speech of the gulls and watched Elwing as she spoke with them. One of the gulls paused to perch on her shoulder and whisper something in her ear. She laughed, more loudly and brightly than Melian would have thought her slender wisp of a great-granddaughter capable of.
She remembered another, who paused to speak to the birds whenever she ventured into the forest. Nightingales, wrens, finches flocked to hear her song. Even the owls of Doriath would waken from their slumber to hear Lúthien sing and converse with her, if only to catch more of her beyond-sweet voice.
"If I did not know better, I would say that you were part bird yourself, my dear. Are you perhaps hiding feathers under your hair?"
A bright, shining laugh followed this. "No, Mother. I simply know what they wish to hear!"
Melian had not expected to ever see again an Edhel, even one of her blood, have such ease with the birds of Arda. But her heart swelled with unexpected gladness, to see Elwing look so like her daughter when she spoke with the wheeling gulls. Free of care, free of grief.
Arien—the Maia who steers the vessel of the Sun across the sky
Edhil—Elves (singular: Edhel) (Sindarin)
Ennor—Middle-Earth (Sindarin)