[Content Note/Trigger Warning: Dubious consent given to sexual activity—namely, Enelyë thinks she knows what she's getting herself into, but she doesn't really. Canon Thingol/Melian always struck me as being kind of wonky consent-wise too, though in that case they both seemed to be affected, rather than just Thingol. Here… Have a rather more morally ambiguous than usual Melian for your reading pleasure (Or possibly nightmares, I dunno).]

I own nothing.

Enelyë, sixth of the Quendi to awaken beside Cuiviénen, would be lying if she said that she had undertaken the journey away from that place gladly. If Enel was still alive, she might not have taken it at all. She was skeptical of the Bright Hunter, and though she did not—had never—taken Elwë for a liar, you could hardly deny that he'd returned from his journey changed. He was barely the same person he'd been before he left, had returned strange and fell with a feverish, incandescent light gleaming out of his eyes like a fire.

Enelyë had not wished to leave Cuiviénen, but when the greater part of the Lindar expressed a desire to see the wonders of which Elwë spoke, she put aside her misgivings and agreed to lead them. She knew that she was hardly the only one making the journey who did not wish to leave the starlit lands—Elmo was only following his brothers, and Eöl took every opportunity he could to grumble about how they'd be food for the Hunter in the Dark if they didn't turn back.

The only appeal the westernmost lands of the world held for Enelyë was the promise made to them by the Bright Hunter: there was a possibility that they would see their dead again if they went there. But it was not a guarantee, the Bright Hunter said, and as she traveled, Enelyë increasingly found that flimsy promises did nothing to assuage her misgivings. If he is not sure, he should not have said so, she thought, looking out at the host of the Lindar with a sinking heart. The idea of being reunited with their dead is the only reason half of these Quendi even left Cuiviénen to start with. If we go to that other place and they cannot even hate that…

It didn't bear thinking about.

They had crossed their second set of mountains, losing dozens of the Lindar at each one, either to death or because the Quendi in question grew so bitterly discouraged at the sight of the mountains that they refused outright to cross them. The Minyar named these Quendi 'Avari', scorning them as much as they scorned the Quendi who'd refused altogether to leave Cuiviénen. The Ñgolodō called them cowards. Enelyë's heart stung, and with each passing mile she wished more that she had stayed with them.

By the estimate of the Bright Hunter, it would not be long before they reached the sea (A lake like Cuiviénen, except immeasurably vast, and the water was of salt and could not be drunk). Twenty or thirty cycles of the Circa, maybe. Enelyë stood at the edge of the Lindarin campsite, staring out at the campfires dotting the darkness. She sighed.

There was a time when she did not stand alone. But Enel, her friend, practically her brother (though they did not call themselves 'brother and sister' as Tata and Tatië had), he at whose side she had awoken beneath the stars, was gone. He had passed from life long ago, before the Bright Hunter ever came to them and all the Quendi knew of his kind were the raging fires and the trembling of the earth. Would she see Enel again in the lands Elwë described? She did not know. She wanted to believe it, but somehow…

Enelyë turned and began to walk towards the nearby forest.

It made her feel nostalgic, did this forest. The trees were tall and dark, their trunks cool and smooth. She had seen nothing like this since she left the shores of Cuiviénen—the trees between there and here had been comparatively squat and rough, their leaves thin and unlovely. Deadfall crunched under her feet. All the assorted noises of the camp faded out of hearing, the firelight flickered out in the starlit dusk, but Enelyë barely noticed. She was lost in thought, both appreciation of her surroundings and thoughts of the future.

Time was running short for anyone who wished to remain in the starlit lands. The Minyar and Ñgolodō had pulled out far ahead of the Lindar; might they already be gone? Enelyë winced at the thought. She had friends among the other hosts; she didn't like the idea of being separated from them. She didn't like the idea of being separated from her own people.

And yet my only love is for this land. I would mourn forever if I was to be sundered from this land forever, and the Bright Hunter and his kind have no intention of allowing us to return. She drew her green cloak closer about her shoulders, reached up to brush a strand of brown hair out of her face. How could I bear to be parted from this land?

"How indeed?" a soft voice whispered in her ear.

"Hello?" Enelyë called sharply into the darkness, her eyes darting back and forth. Had one of her people followed her into the forest? There were still some who heard the minds of others, though it was the height of rudeness to listen without permission. Enelyë frowned darkly, wondering who would be so bold.

Then, she saw it.

Or rather, saw her.

The figure of a nís, shimmering and nebulous, melted out of the darkness. She was not a Quendë, could not possibly have been. She was impossibly tall, likely to tower over even the tallest of neri. Her body was as a pillar of smoke, with pinpricks of burning light rolling in and out of view. In her eyes was the light of all the stars in the sky, wheeling as the constellations did; strains of song echoed from every inch of her.

Enelyë stood, transfixed, breath caught in her throat, as the nís drew closer, until she stood flush against Enelyë, one hand on Enelyë's shoulder, the other running fingers through her hair. "Do you really wish to love this land?" came the voice, again. "Do you wish to stay here?"

Enelyë heard the question left unasked, heard the voiceless whispers, promises, demands. Finally, her mouth unstuck. "Yes." She nodded. "I do," and spoke with the voice of darkness, as darkness flooded into her mouth.

The darkness dove down her throat like ice, ran up her skin like fire, wound itself into her bones like creeping vines and threaded itself into her blood. The darkness sang, whispered, pleaded, demanded in her veins with the voices of many and one. It found her longing, and sang along with it, louder and louder, until Enelyë could do nothing but gasp and shudder in ecstasy until she fell, cradled by the darkness into gentle oblivion.

Later, much later—she could not guess how much later—Enelyë awoke, dazedly. She was staring up at the dark boughs of the trees, at the wheeling stars that ever circled overhead. There were arms wrapped around her, one around her breastbone, the other around her waist. A wordless song rang in the air, sweet and sonorous.

"How long…" Enelyë mumbled, barely able to speak. Her mind was waterlogged with sleep; all around her was warm and still, and sleep wished to overcome her once again.

"Hush," came the whisper in her ear. The arms drew Enelyë up; the nís drew Enelyë up into her lap, pressed her mouth against hers in a long, lingering kiss that sent darkness down Enelyë's throat again. "Sleep for now." She ran her hands slowly down Enelyë's now-swollen belly. "The world will not change while you sleep."

And so she slept deep in the center of the world, in the Maia's arms while their child grew slowly within her, until everything that troubled her seemed as though a dream. She could no longer recall why any of it had mattered at all.

Note: It strikes me that the Ainur's conception of gender is likely far removed from the Incarnates' conception of gender—for the Ainur, gender is probably optional and can be changed at a whim, since they wear their bodies like cloaks. What Melian knows about flesh-and-blood creatures is that when two have sex (the heterosexual kind, since this is the traditional-gender-roles-Valar we're talking about), there's one that becomes pregnant, and one that impregnates the other. She perceived that Enelyë was of the biological sex that bears children and, well, this happened. Also, I have no idea how long it would take to carry a half-Maia child to term, so we're just taking liberties here.

Quendi—literally 'the Speakers'; Elves (singular: Quendë) (Quenya)
Bright Hunter—an epithet given to Oromë by the Elves of Cuiviénen
Lindar—'Singers'; the clan name the Nelyar gave themselves (rendered in Telerin as 'Lindai'; rendered in Primitive Quendian as 'lindā' or 'glindā, though the latter appears only in Sindarin), for it was said that they learned to sing before they learned to speak. The Lindar (later known to outsiders as the Teleri) split into several groups: the Falmari of Aman, the Sindar, and the Nandor (which itself encompasses the Laiquendi and the Silvan-folk).
Minyar—'Firsts', the first clan of the Elves of Cuiviénen, who were named for Imin and Iminyë, the former of whom was the first Elf to awaken. The Noldor called them 'Vanyar', 'Fair ones' (rendered in Primitive Quendian as 'wanjā', and rendered in Telerin as 'Vaniai'), due to the nearly-universal trait of fair hair among the clan, but even in Aman, they still often referred to themselves as 'Minyar.' (Singular: Minya) (Adjectival form: Minyarin)
Ñgolodō—a Primitive Quendian intermediate form of Noldor, derived from the stem ngol 'knowledge, wisdom, lore'; seen in 'Quendi and Eldar' in The War of the Jewels, HoME, Volume XI
Nís—woman (plural: nissi)
Neri—men (singular: nér)