Chapter Twenty-One: Saying Goodbye

Mélanyë and Lindir sat on the forest floor facing each other. Around them, the tall Mallorns of Lorien stretched their boughs up to the shining stars. The two stared into each other's eyes, their hands clasped together between them. She squeezed his hand and felt the warmth of life in him. They gazed at each other, seconds turning into hours.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her small voice breaking in the stillness. He squeezed her hands in return.

"It wasn't your fault." She felt her throat tighten as hot tears sprang in her eyes. He reached out and softly caressed her cheek with his warm hand. She closed her eyes, tears bouncing down her face as she grasped his hand in hers.

"I have to go," he said. She opened her eyes again, struggling to calm her breathing and fighting back more tears.

"I know." They stood and he hugged her tightly. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her long and deep.

"Namarië, Meldanya," he whispered, and as headed towards the forest, she let go of his hand.

The next morning Mélanyë woke in a different spirit. She felt free of something she hadn't known she carried. The deep sadness and despair had left her and she looked around her at Lorien with a new wonder.

She had stayed in Lorien for close to a month and had fully healed, at least physically. The cut on her face was gone, but a faint scar remained to remind her of her first taste of war. She had been given new clothes and was now dressed as one of the Galadhrim. She would have been excited at the gift, had it not been bought at such a high price.

She went for a walk about the forest after having a bit to eat and found Ganya by the shores of the Anduin. She came and sat beside him, and the two sat in silence together for several minutes. She looked into the rippling water and watched as the reflection of the glowing sunrise was rent by the flowing tide. Beneath the surface she could see a small school of fish flitting about in the water. The golden light reached them through the waves and struck their shining scales, blue, green and silver.

Then a strange, yet familiar feeling came over Mélanyë. She didn't recognize it right away, but wondered at it, until slowly she felt a small smile work its way out onto her face. She then realized that this feeling, which she hadn't felt fully for over a month, was peace. She looked around her at the cool, quiet morning, and up at the rising sun before them, and allowed herself to feel the joy of the moment. Almost, she had forgotten her grief.

"This was our favorite spot," Ganya said quietly. She looked to him and saw that he too, was smiling. "I met my wife here long ago. I was visiting Lorien for the first time and I saw her standing by the shore. She looked so beautiful I thought she was a dream, or a vision of Uinen." He paused, smiling at the memory. "She would always come here, picking lillies from the river and listening for the songs of Ulmo. She loved the waters and dreamed of one day sailing to Valinor."

"My mother loved water too," Mélanyë said quietly. "Whenever it rained she would rush outside and stand in the open until she was soaked through. She taught me to swim, and told me that Lindir had taught her long ago." The smile that had appeared so briefly on her face faded as she remembered. "Later, when she was sick, the healers decided it would be best for her to go to the Blessed Realm and seek healing from the Valar." She looked down and began to play with her ring. "I wanted to go with her, but she said that it wasn't my time to go. I never really understood what she meant." There was a moment of silence before Ganya spoke.

"I did." Mélanyë looked up. "I was one of those healers, Mélanyë. I was the one who sent her to Valinor." She stared at him, absorbing the new information in shock and slowly shaking her head.

"But I don't remember you," she said finally.

"Ah, but I remember you," he replied. "I remember that you were very young, and that we decided you were far too young to know what was going on. Lindir in particular didn't want you to see."

"See what?" Ganya held his silence and looked out over the water. Mélanyë came and crouched in front of him so he had to look at her. "Aren't I old enough now?" He sighed with a sad smile and placed a hand on her shoulder as he stood.

"Maybe," he said, and then left her there alone.

The next few days she was blessed with dreamless sleep. In that time she began to feel more like herself, as she caught up on lost sleep that eased both her mind and body. By day she would take walks in the forest by herself and she spent time talking with the Galadhrim. In her heart she still mourned for Lindir, but the weight of grief had been lifted and it was as if she were finally able to breathe after being dragged underwater.

Once, on a walk the furthest from where she had been staying, she saw the shape of someone very familiar. For a tense moment she thought it was Lindir and that he had survived somehow, and her heart skipped a beat at the thought. She rushed over to him and saw that while it was not him, it was still an old friend. She knelt in front of him.

"Cóume?" She saw a scar on his cheek that hadn't been there before. His face was grim and set, far different from the cheerful guard she'd met in Mirkwood. She almost didn't recognize it at first. He had been busily making arrows, and now looked up at her and forced a smile as she spoke.

"Mélanyë," he said. "I'd heard you were here, and that you were injured. Are you all right?" She reached out to touch the scar and he flinched.

"It looks like I wasn't the only one who came here for healing," she said. He shook his head.

"I was careless," he said, "I was fighting with one while the other attacked from behind. I should have seen it coming."

"We can't come out of every battle unscathed," she said, subconsciously touching her own scar. She looked down at the small mountain of arrows. "Planning to try again?" He looked up at her with a small grin before answering.

"There's talk of joining the others in Rohan. We've received word of heavy losses in a battle at Helm's Deep. Haldir..." he paused in his work and did not look up. Mélanyë put her hand on his shoulder.

"I know," she said. She had seen him while she'd lain long in her own despair. Unsure whether it was real or just another nightmare she hadn't shared with anyone the vision she'd had of the death of Haldir. Earlier in the week, however, she'd heard several Galadhrim singing a lament for their lost captain. Cóume looked up at her.

"We're leaving tomorrow," he said. "Everyone is welcome." He went back to his work as Mélanyë sat in thought. She wanted to go with Cóume her friend, but remembered her earlier determination about Helm's Deep. She would never make it out of there alive, she knew it. She was torn between her loyalty to her friend and her own self-preservation. For hours she weighed the possible consequences of both options - go and help, or stay and do nothing; go and be wounded again or killed, or stay and be safe in the Golden Wood. As hard as she tried she couldn't bring herself to make a decision. She looked back at Cóume, who was now deeply involved in his work, and sighed. What should she do?