It's a good thing this chapter was already done, because this week was *crazy...*
Chapter Five
"Olórin, she's not going to want to speak with me," Mairon retorted.
"Mairon, she's still heartbroken and lonely. You are the only other one of us who truly knows what the Hither Lands are like," Olórin replied.
"From the wrong side of the War," Mairon shot back.
"You met Lúthien—"
"After she had died once, and was already lost to her people," Mairon snapped. "Or do you mean before that, when I tried to hand her over to Morgoth? Both great memories, to be sure."
"Mairon," Olórin sighed.
"I'm sorry, Olórin," Mairon said. "But I really don't see how any good could come from meeting with her, unless the idea is to have her yell at me."
"No, Mairon, the idea is not to have her yell at you." Olórin restrained another sigh. "But I think you owe it to her to at least talk to her." Mairon crossed his arms and looked away.
"I don't even know where to start," he said quietly. Olórin rested a hand on his shoulder.
"Try at the beginning," he advised, and before Mairon had time to react, he thought them both to Lórien, and left.
Mairon growled softly in the back of his throat. He hated this, but he knew Olórin wasn't going to give this idea up. He took a few steps towards the stream he could hear, then paused uncertainly. Melyanna was sitting on the bank, looking hopeless and sad, staring with blank eyes at the water. She had lost so much, and Mairon truly doubted she could forgive him, much less want him around. If he were honest, though, he hoped she would, for he missed her friendship. He smiled slightly as he remembered their first meeting…
Mairon wasn't truly watching the other Maiar. He was simply counting on their presence to insure that Melkor didn't show up again. He did feel slightly out of place on a planet that was heavily used by Vána's people, but if questioned, he would just say the flowers gave him inspiration. Right, they were certainly going to be believe that one…
"Are you alright?" A feminine voice broke into his musings. Mairon glanced up, startled, to meet the grey eyes of a female Maia he only knew from sight—and sound. She was the one that sang all the time, wasn't she?
"I'm fine," Mairon replied to her question.
"You look sad," Melyanna (Mairon tried to remember if her name actually was Melyanna) said. "Here."
She handed him the flower she held, a beautiful thing with many petals that Mairon had no name for.
"Thank you?" Mairon responded. Melyanna smiled.
"Flowers have the power to make people feel better," she informed him. "So there you go! Now you don't have to look so sad." And with that, she continued on to whatever she had been doing before.
Stunned, Mairon looked down again at the flower he now held. A small smile began to tug at the corners of his lips. He did feel better now…though he would sooner attribute that to Melyanna than the flower.
That was it! Mairon focused, intent on recreating that flower. He doubted he could make any other, but he had studied Melyanna's gift enough that he should be able to do this...
Melian didn't look up as footsteps approached her. Only when a flower entered her line of sight, its roots encased in a ball of dirt held by two slender hands, did she look up to meet a sheepish pair of golden eyes that nonetheless held surprising sincerity.
"Someone very wise once told me that flowers have the power to make people feel better," Mairon said softly. Melian could not help but smile as she recognized the flower as identical to the one she had given him with those exact words.
"They do," she said, reaching out to take the bloom. "But old friends have even more of that power." The smile Mairon gave her at that was absolutely stunning, making Melian glad she had accepted his overture.
"Come on," she told him. "I know just where to plant this." She led him to her section of the gardens, where she planted the flower next to a small fountain.
"There," she said. "Now I'll be able to see it every day." Mairon smiled again, and Melian studied him out of the corner of her eye. He seemed fragile, the healer in her noted with concern. But his eyes were clear, and his smile true.
"How are you, really?" Melian asked softly.
"Honestly, I don't think I should be sane at the moment, but I am, and I think I'll stay that way," Mairon replied. Melian gave him a concerned look, which he returned.
"How are you?" he countered seriously. Melian looked away.
"I will see my husband again," she said bravely. "And my daughter... she followed her heart, and was happy." She paused, torn.
"I just wish people would mention her," she burst out. "All anyone does is look at me sadly, and assure me I will see Elwë again. It is as if Lúthien never existed."
"She is well remembered, never fear," Mairon said. "Istamírë still speaks of her in slightly awed tones. Apparently, she was rather unhappy when she showed up in Mandos."
"I do not doubt it," Melian replied. "After all she had survived by that point—" She broke off at Mairon's slight wince, and sighed.
"Mairon, I know you, and I know you have a reason for everything you do, even if it is just, 'It sounded fun'. Why were you going to hand Lúthien over to Morgoth?" Mairon winced again.
"I had just lost Finrod," he said softly. "I thought if I could capture her, Morgoth's pleasure over that would outweigh his displeasure over the fact that the King of Nargothrond had died on my watch. If I had known what was going to happen after all that, I would have started running, and never stopped."
"Would that have worked?" Melian asked bluntly. Mairon winced again.
"No," he admitted. "Once those events had been set in motion, there was no way I could win."
"You have won," Melian pointed out. "Morgoth is gone until the end of time, and you are free."
"I am," Mairon said with a brilliant smile.
"And you are happy, I hope," Melian continued. Mairon laughed.
"I seem to keep having this conversation," he commented. "Yes, I am happy serving in Mandos. And I've actually be able to start to working."
"Oh really?" Melian asked. Mairon nodded.
"Just with Maedhros, right now," he said. "But you know...I do see quite a few people there. Should one of them simply happen to be a silver-haired Elf, would you happen to have a message for him?" Melian stared at him in shock, her mouth falling open.
"Mairon!" she exclaimed, hugging him tightly. "But, I thought—that's not allowed, is it?"
"I have no idea what you are talking about," Mairon said, his innocent voice somewhat marred by Melian's tight embrace. Melian laughed and let him go.
"Well then, if you should just happen to see Elwë, tell him that I love him."
"Oh, he knows that," Mairon said. "But if you want to be boring..." He broke off laughing at Melian's glare.
"No, he really needs to know," Melian said softly. "I'm scared he thinks I blame him for a lot of things I asked him not to do that he did anyway, that didn't end well. He needs to know I don't hate him."
"Perhaps fate would have been different had Thingol made different choices," Mairon said pensively. "But I cannot see that it would have necessarily been for the better."
"Neither can I," Melian admitted. "Perhaps so, but perhaps if we had remained safe for longer, it would have accomplished nothing but to bring Morgoth himself out against us. And then things would have been far worse. All I know is that events have worked together to see Morgoth overthrown, so I will regret none of them." Melian paused. "Except, perhaps, the loss of my daughter," she added in a low voice. Mairon hugged her.
"You will see her again," he said, quiet but sure. "If grace was granted to me that I might find my way home again, then you will not be separated from your daughter forever."
"Thank you, Mairon," Melian whispered. Her smile was true, if a bit shaky. "I just hope I can convince my great-granddaughter of the same."
"That's right—one of Elwing's sons chose mortality," Mairon said. Melian nodded.
"And she is not handling it exceptionally well," she said. "They were both quite young when she left, and now she feels she will never have the chance to know him."
"That would be hard," Mairon said softly.
"At least I have many years of memories," Melian said, "memories that I will be able to look back on with joy, when the grief is not so sharp. Elwing does not, and now, she never will. She chose as she did so that she would not have to lose more of her family, yet now she has lost her son until the end of Arda. She made the right choice, but I cannot help feeling she second guesses it at times."
"Second guessing ourselves is not something even the Valar escape," Mairon said softly.
"Very true," Melian said. "But she must learn to live again. I suppose that's something I need to learn as well," she added fairly. Mairon shrugged.
"I need to do the same," he admitted.
"Then we shall all do so together," Melian said with a smile.
"Not physically, I hope," Mairon said wryly. " I don't think Elwing—or anyone else—would take that very well."
"Perhaps not yet," Melian said mischievously. "But sometime."
"Melyanna," Mairon groaned. Melian laughed.
"You are welcome to come to lunch with us if you would like," she grinned.
"No, thank you, I can just see it now," Mairon said dryly. "I'm supposed to meet Eönwë—and Olórin, I suppose—anyway."
"Alright," Melian said, relenting. "But you will have to come and visit me again."
"Of course I will," Mairon said with a brilliant smile.
"Good," Melian said, matching his grin. They embraced in farewell, then Mairon drew back and put his hands on her shoulders.
"Do you want to know how to help Elwing?" he asked sincerely.
"Of course," Melian responded, confused. Mairon gave her a wistful smile.
"Sing again," he said simply, then released her and turned to walk away, before thinking himself to where Eönwë and Olórin were waiting. Melian stood for a moment, frozen, before raising a hand to her throat, a thoughtful look on her face. Finally she sighed and dropped her hand before turning and leaving herself.
"I wish she would sing again myself," Irmo commented to Estë from where they had been watching at Námo's request, unnoticed by the two Maiar.
"She will, when she's ready," Estë said calmly. "Mairon will be good for her. I was skeptical at first, but he has accepted what he has lost, and is making the most of what he has left."
"For now," Irmo replied. "Námo is worried about what will happen the first time someone attacks him, even if it is only verbal."
"It is a valid concern," Estë allowed. "But he grows stronger each day. Attacks will come, but he will have enough support to make it through."
"If he will let others help him," Irmo countered.
"Do you think your brother is going to give him a choice in the matter?" Estë replied. Irmo laughed.
"You have a good point there," he said. "I just worry what this will bring out among the Maiar."
"I know," Estë sighed. "Many are still badly wounded, and some may be highly resentful."
"We'll meet it as we always do, my love," Irmo said, putting an arm around her.
"I know," Estë responded, leaning into him. "I know."
I just want to say a big thank you to my anonymous reviewer 'Guest'. Thank you for all your lovely reviews!