Once upon a time, there was a maiden, who wished to see the earth for herself. Her song was divine, and nature praised her beauty; no danger awaited her. One day, she descended from the skies, and stared at one lower than her. His race was inferior, in strength and power, but she looked at him nonetheless, and felt pity, compassion, and joy for this being, the first she had met since her arrival on earth. The grass sung gently, the trees whispered, and the world grew still as they gazed at each other, not yet understanding this feeling that was going to unite them for millennia to come. They broke unsaid laws, unsaid conventions, but they wedded nevertheless, and their happiness was never tainted by regret. Thus Melian and Thingol settled in what was going to become the kingdom of Doriath, a flourishing, well-learned land, shutting itself off from the world that had grown unfair and darker around them.
However, darkness never reached them, and Doriath prospered, giving birth to a new culture, filled with arts, music, poetry, and the love of writing. Its reputation was that of mysterious forests, closed to strangers, but from which the woods fed their ears with never ending, distant melodies. The kingdom was a source of marvel and wonder, of fear and resentment. Few were those who revered its glory; too many were the ones who despised its safety. The king and queen did not care, and lent help to those deserving of it. Hence the kingdom of Doriath survived through years, decades, centuries, millennia, shielding itself from the Enemy, behind a careful veil made of its own shadows. Thingol and Melian had nothing to fear, and feared none who challenged them.
As time passed, however, Melian's mood grew more melancholic, her mind became sorrowful. She was glad at the sight of Elven families blossoming around them, their laughter filling the forest, but the sorrow she felt only deepened. One day, she told the king what her mind was burdened with; Melian desperately wished for a child of her own. She desired to create a life, to nurture it and see it grow for itself, to become something new she could love. The king agreed, also wishing to have their own family, but no child came to ease them. No life sparked in Melian's body, whose flesh remained desperately barren. The Maia's longing to become a mother only worsened, turning into an obsessional one, occupying Melian's thoughts all day and night, invading her emotions, clouding her judgment. She complained and despaired, took medicine, herbs, potions, anything that could cure this lifeless flesh she had slowly, but surely, begun to hate. Thingol was more resigned, and, not wanting to see his wife blaming herself anymore for this, tried to soothe her with comforting words and presents. Melian's desire did not go, however, and it grew so strong as to fill the queen with unwanted resentment each time she now saw those families.
Melian was scared, scared of herself and what she was becoming, but she had not given up on her wish yet. In her last efforts, she went to see Varda, the Mighty Queen of All Stars, wife to Manwë, the goddess she looked up the most to. She went in silence and secret, not informing the king, fearing the resigned sadness she knew she would see in his eye that would destroy the last shreds of hope she had left.
In the holy hall Melian pleaded and pleaded, again and again, explaining to the holy being her desire to have a child of her own, and asking her how to cure this barrenness that had poisoned her flesh.
"Surely, my Queen," she said, bowing deep in front of the goddess, "there must be something you can do to chase this disease."
"My child," Melian said, her beautiful face darkened with immense sorrow for the lost Maia, "there is nothing that can be done, even by me. Maiar's body were made in this way; their flesh is not meant to reproduce, for their time on earth is endless. Eternal lives is the gift that has been given to them."
"At the cost of being able to give one," Melian finished.
Varda sadly nodded, and Melian fell to her knees, tears streaming on her face.
"What am I to do then, O my Queen?"
The goddess abandoned her holy form and took a smaller one, closer to the size of Melian, and knelt down beside her, stars and galaxies whirling in her eyes. She gave a smile to Melian, a compassionate smile, for the goddess had no advice to give, none that she knew would appease the sharp pain of the Maia.
"Please," Melian whispered one last time, captivated by the stars dancing in front of her. "Will you think about it, my Queen?"
Varda stayed silent. She took Melian's face in her hands and kissed her forehead, and immediately the Maia's shoulders relaxed, sorrow left her face and the thorn of pain lodged in her heart faded away as wisdom and compassion poured into Melian's tired mind.
"Go. Be at peace."
Those were the last words Melian heard before she was sent back to the mortal earth. Melian returned to Doriath, her thoughts eased by the pity of the stars, but she knew this would only be a temporary cure. The effect would wear off, and pain would come back to her. She kept praying, though, in secret, believing deeply in the wisdom she had seen in the stars and the flowing colors of the galaxies, having faith and trust in the Queen of the heavens.
Meanwhile, close to the stars that she cherished so dearly, Varda kept thinking, for the Maia's distress had deeply touched her, and she felt remorseful for not being able to give anything that could have helped her. She did not understand Melian's wish, but she had recognized the importance it held to her, and decided that she would create something of her own, a gift for the mourning Maia. Varda could hear her whispered prayers, sometimes close, sometimes distant, fearful and hopeful at the same time. Those words lost in the sky only strengthened her determination, and she soon set to work.
Varda sewed and weaved, spun and assembled with threads of starlight, drawing in her powers, gently and carefully, recalling Melian's words, picturing the feeling that she had so desperately expressed to the goddess; motherhood. Varda thought about what it would felt like, the warm love this tiny being would hold and give, what it would represent for Melian, and how the Maia perceived it with her own eyes. She spun and webbed, with stars and universes and galaxies, mixing their beauty, filling them with her own holy blessing with the skill of her fingers. Then Varda was almost finished, but something was missing. She gazed upon the tiny being, and thought about the gifts it should have. She looked at the sky, and reached for the Morning Star. It was a rising star, the first one to shine bright and illuminate the heavens, and Varda knew it was the right choice. Just like the Morning Star, this being would rise to magnificence, to chase darkness and spread hope in the heart of those looking at it.
The passing of the days turned into weeks, and a whole month flew by since Melian had come to seek the help of Varda. Hope had quietened in the Maia's heart, and she was wandering in the forest that day, insensitive to any comfort Thingol was trying to give to her. She only sought the loneliness of the trees, the forlorn melody the wind whispered in their leaves, when she heard wails.
Loud, strong, discordant wails, breaking the peace of the forest, making the birds shiver in anxiety. Melian stopped and listened, stunned, before walking again in the direction of those curious sounds, completely new to the forest around her. The wails only intensified, as if sensing her coming presence, and she broke into a run, feeling more and more impatient. She arrived in a small clearing, shielded by the trees, where a small fountain was singing between smooth boulders.
A baby laid there, alone, forgotten, its wails violently tearing the silence apart. It screamed and cried, wailed and whined, agitating its tiny hands in the air. Melian approached it slowly, mesmerized by the harmony this tiny being held, the fragility it had, and gently took it in her arms.
It was a girl, and she was ravenous. She loudly complained, her fists pressing softly against Melian's dress, refusing to stop as long as her desire hadn't been met, while the Maia only stared at it, her heart having suddenly swelled with a hope she had thought dead.
The baby kept crying, and a tear rolled onto his cheek and fell on the white fabric ornamenting her body. Melian saw the necklace on her skin, and recognized the light of the Morning Star glowing mildly within the stone set in the steel. She hugged the baby close to her heart, and knew her prayers had been answered.
Melian brought the baby back to Doriath, tears of joy illuminating her face.
"The stars have gifted us," she only said to Thingol as she presented the small infant to him.
She was a bit anxious at his reaction, but the king welcomed gladly the child. He was relieved to see joy blossom again on Melian's lips, and his own wish, which he had given up long ago, was satisfied. To the baby the name Lúthien was given, and Melian never forgot the light of stars glowing softly in her daughter's eyes.