I own nothing.

He wandered deep into the starlit woods, away from the warmth of the campfires, from his brothers and his friends. Elwë would be lying if he said that he was not possessed of a curious bent, the kind that Elmo joked was fatal. The woods, they beckoned to him, and in he went, pushing aside ferns and low branches.

The silence was immediately noticeable, broken only by the distant strains of birdsong. Elwë was not accustomed to such silence in the forests in which he walked. Was it not more natural to hear the leaves crunching beneath the feet of the other Quendi? Was it not more natural to come across wild beasts, and not simply hear the singing of birds from off in the distance? The light of the fires growing ever fainter, Elwë wandered deeper into the woods.

There was the trilling of birdsong all around him, and he could see no birds. Elwë looked around, brow furrowed, trying to catch the fluttering of wings or bright, beady eyes, or glinting beaks. Nothing.

A pale wisp of light caught his eye.

Elwë stood at the edge of a clearing, and all his breath caught in his throat.

Beneath the stars, there was a being made of wavering light. She was no Orc, and seemed too substantial to be one of the Enemy's wraiths. In form, she most strongly resembled the Quendi, but at the same time, she was strange. Made of light, her skin glowing with it. Insubstantial enough that if Elwë strained his eyes, he could see through her to the woods beyond. Taller than any nís Elwë had ever seen.

She was singing, and he was gawking at her like a green boy in the first throes of love. Her voice was the voice of birdsong, bright, echoing, unearthly. It filled up Elwë's ears, echoed in his veins, his blood, his very bones. It was the most terrifying and beautiful sound he had ever heard.

Almost unaware of it himself, Elwë took a step forwards, towards her. His foot came down on a branch, which cracked loudly, splintering in two.

Abruptly, silence filled the woods as the nís stopped singing. She looked up and around at him. Elwë froze.

-0-0-0-

Melyanna came from Lórien to the starlit lands of Endóre, wandering where she would. She came to this forest seeking the nightingales, but found neither them nor birds of any kind. Before she left, she had been told that it might be this way, in certain parts of Endóre, but Melyanna had not believed it.

And still, she did not believe it. She sang in the voice of the nightingales, seeking out her friends. In the starlit woods, she sang. There were other places she could have gone, other things she could have seen. Father's children the Quendi camped nearby, resting on their journey to the Sea. Melyanna stayed where she was, however, and sought out the nightingales, her friends of old whom she had taught to sing.

There were no animals at all in this forest, neither birds nor the beasts who walked or crawled upon the earth. Melyanna had noticed that from the moment she passed into these woods, but still she sang, in the vain hope that the sound of her voice would draw they who she sought to her.

Something did come to her, but it wasn't a nightingale.

Melyanna looked up sharply, her singing dying away, when she heard the snap of a branch being broken. There was someone standing at the edge of the clearing. For a moment, Melyanna thought it was one of her own people, sent by Vána or Estë, bidding her to return to Lórien, but looking at him, she realized that this was not a Maia who had found her here.

He, she, it (Melyanna was not entirely sure) must be one of Father's children, she realized, one of the self-named Quendi. The Quendë was very tall, taller than her, silver-haired swathed in a gray cloak. Her visitor stared at her with wide eyes full of wonder, awestruck.

The Quendë took a step forward, cautious and uncertain. Her visitor reached out with one hand, staring steadily into her eyes.

Melyanna heard all the voices of her mind telling her to reach out and take it, and she did.

-0-0-0-

In the eyes and face of Melyanna the Maia, Elwë Singollo saw the light of the Two Trees, and forgot utterly why they had been so important in the first place. In the eyes and face of Elwë Singollo, Melyanna the Maia saw her fate mirrored, and forgot utterly the gardens of Lórien, or the singing of the nightingales that she had sought.

They stood, hand in hand, still as statues, completely silent, staring into each other's eyes, spellbound. The trees grew tall and dark around them.