Author's Note: Thanks again to my Beta Lisa! Love you. And all you guys who take the time to review, you guys mean the world to me! --hugs and kisses and Legolas' for all of you!!-- I keep Glorfindel to myself though...Please let me know of any grammar mistakes and such.

Chapter 8

"Each day provides its own gifts."
-Anonymous

October 19th, 3018

My nights is (scratch, blotch) are better. Today I will see Arwen again. The lessons are getting harder, Bilbo give me more work.

(pause blotch)

I miss G (large scribble, word ineligible)

Melina sat on the bench in the garden she had adopted as her own, the statue of Luthien her only company, and stared at nothing.

It was surprising how long someone could stare at nothing and not get bored, annoyed or frustrated. "Nothing" was, in fact, more interesting than most things. At least, Melina thought as much.

She was aware that time was passing. Soon she would get up and make her way to the hall of fire, though she might get some lunch first, and continue her lessons with Bilbo. They were going well. There was plenty of nothing to stare out in the hall of fire as well, but she mostly tried to keep her attention on the talking Hobbit – it was hard.

Not that Bilbo was boring, well he mostly was not, but Melina was having the hardest time concentrating on anything of late. Everything just seemed so bland in comparison with nothingness.

Or too frightening, the annoying voice whispered in the back of her mind.

Melina waved her hand in an attempt to physically remove the source of the voice, she doubted it worked, but she had to try. That was how her bad moments happened, when she listened to the voice, and thought...and concentrated on everything that was...

The young, yet not so, woman shook her head violently, closing her eyes and grabbing her hair as she did so.

"Nothing, nothing," she muttered, feeling her throat tighten and her eyes sting. "Oh...no"

A loud sob escaped her shaking body and she heard someone shuffle closer. She knew who it was, and she cursed under her breath, wanting to have nothing to do with the man. A pair of strong hands grabbed her shoulders tightly and though Melina tried to pull away, she knew it was futile.

The Lord of Imladris was not to be escaped from.

Frustrated and angry that she had broken apart for the second time already today, Melina opened her black rimmed, bloodshot eyes and stared at the breath-taking face looking at her.

"What!?" she snapped in Sindarin. "What" was a very essential word in any language, and Melina felt a lot more confident having it finally in her vocabulary.

There was a sigh. He frowned and let his hands fall off, but remained in his kneeling position.

Why wouldn't he just leave me alone! she groaned to herself, but slowly felt the turmoil inside of her settle down. Which made her even more frustrated.

He said something to her, slowly and articulated, from which she understood her own name, something along the line of "be alright" and guessed there was some sort of time reference. Melina huffed a not too comical chuckle and replied in English:

"Right...you always say that! All of you! With your...your..." Melina groaned again in frustration, she just could not do it. Looking into his perfect eyes, hairless skin, silky hair and soft lips...it was impossible to insult him.

"You know what?" she continued, more quietly, "Never mind..." she then passed a hand over her face and groaned a third time, "Sorry." this last she spoke in the new language.

Elrond smiled, that stunning, heart warming smile and stood up, but instead of leaving he twirled and lowered himself on the bench beside her.

Melina glared at him, willing him to simply get up and leave her alone. They were always watching her now, Elrond and Searien. Whenever Melina thought she was alone, and began to breakdown, one of them would materialise out of nowhere and comfort her.

Though incredibly frustrating, Melina had to admit that it helped. She felt, slowly, the troubled and broken part of her mind gather in one place. It was easily controlled this way, Melina could lock the mental door to the problematic room and throw away the key. She was less and less aware of the horrid memories or, rather, the emotions associated with them.

As long as she did not think about it too much, she could pretend to me a normal woman.

Good things had happened since Glor...Melina cringed and quickly diverted her train of thoughts, aware that Elrond was watching her. Since that day, she continued mentally.

She had met one of Elrond's relatives, Lady Arwen. Melina was not certain to which degree the two were related, but she guessed they were siblings, probably even twins, so alike they seemed.

Meeting Arwen had been...it was difficult to put a word to the encounter. It had happened the morning after that day.

Melina had been showing little interest in Bilbo's lesson that morning, not feeling good at all - standing in the freezing rain for so long had landed her a nasty cold, on top of the emotional turmoil. Noticing her pathetic state, Searien had decided to take her for a walk. Melina had realized quickly that Searien had a particular destination in mind, but had truly felt too weak to show much curiosity. They had walked up a few flights of stairs and headed for the section of the house in which Elrond, and a few others, had their studies.

Glorfindel had showed me his study...

The thought of the angel had darkened Melina's mood even more and she was now getting angry at Searien for dragging her around the house when all she wanted was to hide under her covers and never come out.

Melina had been to preoccupied with her brooding thoughts to notice that they were in fact approaching a group of six or so women. She only became aware of the company, sitting around in a circle under a beautifully decorated gazebo, when she was face to face with the mistress of the group - Arwen.

The dark haired angel, perfect beyond imagination, was watching her curiously while exchanging a few words of greetings with Searien. All at once Melina forgot about everything that had happened the previous day and suddenly felt rejuvenated. The presence of the Lady was intoxicating. Melina had dreamt of that moment almost every single night since and she knew she would never ever forget it.

Words could not, in any language, no matter how eloquent, describe the fairness of the Lady Arwen; nor the music in her voice, or the depth of her eyes. Her aura was overpowering, comparable only to the Lord Elrond himself, such strength, and yet such gentleness it invoked in Melina's mind. This was a woman destined for greatness, it was undeniable, it clung to her being. She was a queen, a Lady, a goddess on earth if there ever was one.

It was some time before Melina was able to look away from the Lady's eyes and concentrate on Searien's voice as her friend introduced her to the Lady Arwen. Somehow related to the Lord Elrond of Imladris and also known as Arwen Evenstar.

"My Lady." she stuttered in Sindarin.

The Lady smiled at Melina's speech, bearing a row of perfect, white teeth. Her smile sent shivers down Melina's spine, making her feel like dissolving into a puddle of mush.

They were shown to a couple of free seats, which Melina took gratefully, not trusting her knees anymore. Arwen took her own seat again, merely two away from Melina herself. She felt her heart pounding against her ribcage by simply knowing the Lady was so close. Searien, who was seated immediately to the right of Arwen, was given a bundle by one of the other ladies.

Melina then realized that the women here were not simply sitting around, they were working. All of the six women, now seven with Searien, were tailoring. Some seemed to be working on embroidery, others on clothing, and Arwen herself was braiding fresh flowers. Searien pulled out a embroidering kit from the bundle she had been handed and immediately began to expertly wield needle and thread.

Memories buried deep in her mind, from her previous life, shook free as she watched the women work and chat. She had learned how to tailor and do embroidery a long, long time ago. Before any of these women were born, she was certain. Having been born in the early 20th century, in on of those low, yet once apparently important, "our title gives us nothing except the right to hold our noses up and the money that comes with it" noble families, Melina had suffered all kinds of childhood cruelties...embroidery had been one of them.

She had continued knitting and needlepoint throughout her life, though not quite because it gave her much pleasure, but mostly because it had long been drilled to her that she should, as a lady of society, do so. She had been good, too. Probably could have been great had she actually enjoyed it. Or so her maid had told her time and time again. Unfortunately, Melina's needle wielding age came to an abrupt end once she was sent to the nursing home. After she had stabbed one of the nurses with a needle she had been banned from the knitting club.

Now, watching the up and down movements of the needles, Melina's hand itched to try it all over again.

Arwen was the one who noticed Melina's eager eyes first, and after whispering something to Searien, a bundle was passed around and offered to her. Melina took it gratefully, taking her time to admire the thread work on the bag itself before undoing the delicate knot and avidly taking out the equipment in contained. It had everything she needed. Needle of various sizes, no knitting ones though, thread in all the colours of the rainbow, and a large white virgin cloth on which she could unleash her ministrations.

"Thank you." she whispered in Sindarin, barely looking up from the gift.

She heard some chuckles and perhaps something sounding like a "you're welcome", but she was already pulling out the white cloth and trying to determine what she was going to do it with it. It had taken her an hour before she had applied the first colour to her cloth; but after that she had worked on it fervently.

Melina and Searien had stayed with the ladies all day long; their lunch had been served at the gazebo and it was only for dinner that the group parted. Melina wondered how come Arwen was never at any of the meals, but, of course, she could not ask...and she was not certain she would even if she could. Needless to say that the Lady intimidated her more than anyone else in this house.

Melina and Searien had returned to the gazebo a couple of times since the first, and Melina's art project was progressing. She was very insecure about it all and had not let any of the other women examine her work to closely, afraid of what they might think. She certainly did not think she could compete with the talent those women had for the hobby; their work was breath taking - and Melina was going to be the recipient of one of their creations.

It had happened just before Searien and herself were leaving on their second visit, Arwen had smiled broadly and asked Melina to stand up. Blushing furiously, she had obeyed the Lady and was confused when Arwen had produced some sort of measuring tape. Another woman had then approached with six different coloured cloths slung around her arms. Before she knew what was happening, Melina was being measured.

Though it was Arwen holding the tape, Melina had jerked away violently when the Lady had first touched her. There had been an awkward moment then, and Melina apologized quickly, though it seemed none was necessary. The process had started again, albeit a lot slower and Melina was able to brace herself throughout the hole thing. It was obvious that some sort of clothing was going to be made for her, in wine red apparently, and she was pretty certain it was to be a dress.

Melina turned to her companion sitting on the bench, who was now reading some book, looking very relaxed; even Lord Elrond intimidated her less than Arwen. Perhaps it was the male/female thing. She shrugged.

Elrond stopped reading to look at her, noticing probably that she was now impolitely staring at him, but he did not look annoyed, simply curious. Melina felt she owed him an explanation nevertheless.

"Arwen." she said, pointing to her head, hoping to indicate that she was thinking about the maiden.

Elrond smiled at the name, a carring, slightly possessive, expression showed in his eyes for a moment. Melina wondered how it was to be the relative of someone as striking as Arwen, how protective Elrond must feel for his probable sister. Melina certainly had quickly, immediately really, fallen in love with the woman; she could not imagine having to grow up with her. Arwen was the kind of woman you wanted to encase in glass, simply to preserve her beauty and innocence. I wonder how many suitors a woman such as her would have, Melina thought. Either hundreds, or none.

The man started speaking then, slowly in order for her to at least understand some words; but Melina felt that what he was saying was more meant for himself than for her. At least, she felt as much until he looked straight into her eyes with an expression of endless sorrow and, perhaps, guilt. It was a strange mix, coming from someone as grand as Lord Elrond, and it certainly did not befit him...just as it had not befitted Gandalf.

The similarity between the two men was striking, not physically, but in the way they held themselves and their eyes. They both seemed to have such heavy burdens to carry, as if everything bad that happened in the world was their fault. Melina felt the familiar tightening of her chest as she listened to Elrond speak. She did not understand him. Words like knowledge, past and a few questioning tones she could translate, but she had no idea what the big picture was...nor what he was trying to ask. She was confused, and her expression must have showed it for Elrond suddenly returned to his neutral majestic expression, as if nothing happened.

He then looked down at his book again, hesitated for a moment, before opening it and apparently engrossing himself in whatever it contained.

Melina sighed loudly, but it invoked no reaction from her companion. These angels, Eldars, were just a big, fat enigma which she would never understand. She knew that even if she learned the language, which would take a few more months, she would not be able to solve all the mysteries that were accumulating daily. So many questions.

She tried to file them all away in her head; words, relations, whole sentences she had memorized in order to later be able to make sense of them. But her head was slowly overflowing with mysteries. Some were more important than others, some more complicated, but she wanted to know the answer to them all.

One of the questions that was currently on her mind was the appearance of a new group of angels, travelers, that had come into the House recently. She wondered what they were doing here, where they had come from, what were the stories they sung about at dinner, and who on earth had thought it a good idea to create the Eldar Legolas Greenleaf.

Melina had met Legolas the evening after her meeting with Arwen.

It was dinner time and Melina was walking towards the hall with Searien, as always.

Melina had not attended dinner the night before, having felt too weak to sit with such a crowd, and also not wanting to deal with the empty seat she knew would be beside her. This evening though, having had a good day thus far, she had decided to brave the hall.

All her resolve vanished, however, when she noticed that someone, a complete stranger, was sitting in Glorfindel's chair. The chair besides the stranger, the one she had sat in since her arrival, remained empty, but Melina hesitated. Had she not only been allowed at Elrond's table because Glorfindel was accompanying her? She turned to Searien, but the woman was already heading for another table, the one she usually sat at during dinner.

Melina made a quick decision and followed after Searien. She was, after all, her only friend in this House and she certainly felt more comfortable around someone familiar. But she had not taken two steps when Searien whirled around gracefully, albeit wide-eyed, and stopped Melina in her tracks. The woman stared at the angel, confused, but her friend only pointed at the high table, offering a comforting smile, before turning around again; leaving Melina alone in the middle of the room. A cold sweat formed at the base of her neck.

Petrified, Melina felt her feet move though her mind was rapidly shutting off. She could feel everyone staring at her, though she refused to look around. Slowly, and dreadfully, she made her way to the high table, wanting only to dig herself into her chair and forget about the whole incident. She considered running out of the hall, but she was hungry after all.

Once in front of her chair, Melina let out of yelp of surprise, which she blamed on her tense old nerves, when the stranger lept from his chair with surprising ease and pulled her seat. The man, though he had frowned for a fraction of a second at her scream, now bore a smug look. Melina noticed he was handsome, attractive...ridiculously attractive, but all she wanted to do at that moment was bitch slap the idiot. How dare he treat her poor old nerves with such disrespect!

One again, Melina realized she was making a fool of herself by glaring at the gentleman instead of taking the offered seat. Too much humiliation for one night, she thought grimly and felt her cheek redden as she quickly slumped in her chair.

The man took his own seat again, but he did not dig into his food as she had expected, instead he stared at her with the same smug look. Feeling like her entire body was going to burst into flames, Melina glared back at the blue eyed man. Trying to put as much fierceness and anger in her Hazel eyes as possible. She knew that the scars on her face would probably ruin the look, but she hoped they might give her an enraged expression. Like all those men in the stories, with their battle scars and fierce looks.

Unfortunately, the man's smile did not waver. Instead, he casually turned to Lord Elrond, his neighbour, and asked a question. Lord Elrond, who had been about to take a drink, put down his glass and smiled. One of those big toothy smile which made Melina extremely uncomfortable, not the least because Elrond stared directly at her before answering the man's question. She understood her name, and some other words that sounded like a date, or something like a time reference. Both men then turned to her, and Melina realized she was being formerly introduced.

"Lady Melina," she heard Elrond use the annoying title - Arwen was a Lady, not her, "I present to you Lord Legolas Greenleaf of Mirkwood."

At least, Melina thought that is what the introduction sentence must have been. She was not sure of the exact translation of a few words, but that was the basic of any introduction really. Mirkwood...now that's an interesting name, she thought. A bit less romantic sounding than Imladris.

Now introduced, Legolas turned to her again, with his amazing smile, and shamelessly took her hand from its resting place on the table and placed a kiss on its back. Melina was too slow to prevent anything and she could only try and rub away the burning sensation after he released her hand. Now more stressed and on edge than she had felt in a long time, Melina tried to eat her meal.

It was hard. That silly man kept giving her glances while he picking at his plate and chatting away with Lord Elrond about, she was certain, herself. It was frustrating not be able to able understand what someone was saying about you, but as she watched Lord Elrond's expression, she somehow felt certain that he was not divulging any private information. Their talk did seem to turn towards a more serious discussions though, one Lord Elrond did not seem too comfortable with. She noticed him giving her quite a few glances as he replied to the questions Legolas posed to him.

And so did the dinner pass by. Slowly, excruciatingly, but pass it did. When the plates were pushed away and the singing began, Melina thought she was saved. She thought wrong.

Legolas had other plans. Plans which involved Melina's most dreaded activity: dancing.

"No, oh no..please." Melina pleaded, in Sindarin, but the Eldar seemed deaf.

He took her hand and pulled her up, dragging her to the makeshift dance floor and swung her around. Melina had glared at him the entire time. No matter how charming he thought he was, she was not impressed. We are NOT impressed! she thought and snorted, making Legolas think she was actually enjoying herself which made him look even more smug.

He WAS charming though, it could not be denied. He was not handsome in the way Glorfindel was; he was also not interesting like Gandalf, nor did he commend the kind of respect Elrond did, but he WAS charming. She could not help but feel fluffy inside as he twirled, pulled, pushed and skipped around the dance floor with her in his arms. By the end of it, though she would not admit it to herself as she left for bed that night, she was smiling. It was impossible to resist, the man made you smile. That was him. He was a big smile. And an addictive one at that. Everyone else was smiling too. We all look like we smoked, Melina thought, remembering the many gatherings where her extended family joined together and smoked opium. She had been too young to consume of course, but she remembered the drug induced smile...this was just like that!

Elrond shifted besides her, bringing Melina back to reality. He was still looking down at his book, but he had a deep frown and she felt certain he was doing more thinking than actually reading. Finally he closed his book with a snap that made Melina jump slightly, and stood up. He bowed, whispering a farewell and walked bristly out of the garden. Melina stayed put for a while long, looking back into the nothingness, but she was aware that she was overdue for her lessons.

There were no clocks to tell her so, of course, and she certainly did not know how to read the time from the sun, but she was overdue nonetheless. Standing up and stretching her cramped limbs, Melina began to make her way, slowly, towards the hall of fire.

She would go to the kitchens first, he stomach told her this was the right thing to do and she knew Bilbo would be hungry as well. Some nice hot tea would also not go amiss.

The weather in Imladris was as fine as always. There always seemed to be good weather here, except for that day, Melina had seen no rain, no rain clouds either. Not much wind but the breeze which made the leaves dances and the trees shiver.

The trees. They were getting ever more beautiful as fall settled in the valley. The leaves of most of them had turned already, giving the valley, and the house, a new hip look. Yellow, red, purple and evergreen painted a beautiful pallet on which one could feast their eyes for hours. There were still flowers too, the weather was certainly warm enough. Late bloomers it seemed.

Fall only seemed to confirm Melina's impression that the house was alive. It was like seeing someone age.

The House's voices were singing a new song today as well, one tune she had not yet heard before. Melina had, after that day, made it one of her projects to learn about the origin of the songs which filled the House from morning until night. She had found them too, a few days after that day.

They had to be somewhere. Everything had to be somewhere, that was the essence of life itself.

But it had been three days now since his departure and she still could not find where the singers held their daily choir. She had searched, and searched for a total of four hours now, taking any opportunity she had to run around and attempt to pinpoint the origin of the voices.

It was hard. It would have been hard only from the sheer size of the house; but the echo of the valley and the thundering noise of the waterfall only made it harder. More like impossible, she thought as she heaved up the tenth flight of stairs. The voices HAD to come from above. She had come to that conclusion first, because she had searched everywhere else, and second because that is how the voices were easily carried throughout the House, and probably the entire valley.

The House, its strange architecture with all its trees and statues, seemed never ending. Sure there were some exits, but some places just seemed to go on and on. These stairs seemed to go on and on.

It was impossible, from the lower floors, to guess how high the House actually went. It had been built against the sloping side of the valley and was rarely actually more than two storeys high, but covered extensive ground; which was tilted upwards. If everything had been built like a normal building, Melina guessed it would have equalled a 20 or so storey high apartment tower. It was huge. Did I mention HUGE! Melina thought as she yet again came upon more stairs.

Somehow though, the voices were growing louder. Melina had thought the voices had grown louder a few times before, but this time they REALLY were getting louder, she was sure of it. It was not a trick of echos nor was it the humming of some Gardner, this was the actual choir.

More stairs and three corridors later, Melina finally passed under a thick, still green hedge with an arch, and came upon a beautiful enclave overlooking the entire valley.

The view, even from her position, was breathtaking. But what really caught her eyes, were the singers. There were there!! Eight of of them, with their backs turned to her, standing and chanting their beautiful Eldar songs. Melina stood there for a while, simply listening to them, wondering if she knew any of the singers, when she noticed a bench only two feet to her right.

As quietly as she could, she slid on the bench and closed her eyes, allowing herself to be lulled by the musical voices.

She must have sat there for hours before, finally, the voices stopped. It was the end of the third song, time for lunch. Melina suddenly wondered what the Eldars would think of her sitting there, shamelessly watching them sing while they were unaware. Wanting to escape before they spotted her, she opened her eyes and started to get up when she noticed that the singers were all staring at her. Oh, great! she cringed inwardly, feeling her cheeks reddening.

"I am so sorry!" she mumbled in broken Sindarin.

The singers looked at each other and one of them smiled broadly to her, shaking his beautiful head gently.

"'Tis no problem." he said slowly, exaggerating each word so she might understand.

Melina nodded, but left immediately, feeling ashamed nonetheless. She would never, ever, would have returned had it not been for one of the singers running after her and stopping her escape by grabbing her arm. The touch sent a jolt through her body and a yelp escaped her lips before she could stop it. The man released her arm automatically, his eyes wide and his lips mouthing a series of apologies, but Melina's ears were ringing and she heard none of it. It took her a moment to regain her bearings and push away the memories that threaten to take over her mind.

When, finally, she was able to concentrate on the man's words again, he had changed topic.

"Please. Come again." he said simply, probably aware that she would not understand anything more complicated, though he attempted to flesh out his request with emotions conveyed by his brown eyes.

"Maybe..." Melina mumbled in English, and then she repeated it louder in Sindarin. "Maybe..."

The Eldar nodded, watched her for a moment longer, before he turned and walked towards the enclave once again.

Melina HAD returned, four times now since. She had noticed that the singers were never the same, and that most of the Eldars in the House seemed to be able to sing beautifully. She had seen Searien up there once, as well as Arwen. Watching and listening to Arwen sing, a long and beautiful solo, had made Melina's heart ache for something she could not describe. She longed to see a place, somewhere she was sure she had never been, yet she felt tears in her eyes simply knowing she had not seen it.

That night, Melina had dreamt of a strange place. A land filled with golden fields, shiny trees and glorious buildings. The kind she could never have imagined. All through the dream Melina heard Arwen's voice, and yet it was not her voice. The music came from a statue which, upon closer inspecting, revealed itself to be the statue of Luthien from Melina's garden. There were other figures too, people Melina had never seen, and two she knew all too well: Glorfindel and Gandalf. There were seated together, in one of the golden fields, talking and listening to the fair lady sing her sorrowful song, but they never noticed her.

The dream had left a strange feeling in Melina after she had woken up. She remembered that the evening before she had snuck into the kitchen for an after dinner snack, a first since her arrival, but she was somehow starving after all the dancing with the smug Eldar, and had found a delicious golden bread in the kitchen. She wondered if the food had not induced the dream. Her mother had always said food could do that.

Melina was looking at the same bread now, wondering if she should risk eating more. It had been filling, she remembered, but decided against it for now. Instead she picked out two apples from one of the fruit bowls, filled one small bowl with nuts and added two cups of hot tea on the tray before she left the kitchen, mumbling a goodbye to the busy cooks as she did.

The dinning hall was mostly empty, except for two small groups of people there early, lounging around. Most of the Eldars did not seem to work. Or at least, if they did, it was not around the House. She had seen gardners of course, as well as Arwen's tailors, and Glorfindel had worked in his study, but there were no stores here, no markets or the such. No fishermen either, though she had seen Eldars swimming in the river as well as boating and no woodcutters. Bowmen she had also seen, practicing down in the archery pit, but no one hunted. She had never seen meat here, nor fur or any other animal product.

She had not seen money either. More questions, always more questions. Her world was full of questions and no answers. Her hands clutched the tray tighter as she made her way to the hall of fire with a decisive step. Every word she learned with Bilbo, every silly exercise and every boring story brought her closer to the answers she desperately needed. One day she would answer most of them, by herself too, if she could remember them until then. Some of them were already slipping her mind...like what Gandalf had said to her that night.

Melina stopped one step shy from opening the door to the hall of fire. No, she thought, I remember this...this is important. Her eyes were wide with the shock of finding her memory so lacking, this was impossible. She had recited those words a dozen times a night since she had woken up in Imladris. She had dreamt of those words during the Blackout. She knew these words.

The content of the tray began to shake as she struggled to bring back the words from the depth of her troubled mind.

Gandalf laid a hand on her head, his fingers entwining in her bushy hair; he then bent down towards her and whispered something she was not able to understand…frustration rose in her heart, and panic. In the midst of her increasing heart beat, shallow breath and flowing tears, she forced her mind to burn those words into memory so that one day she would understand them. And then he was gone…just like that; he sat up straight again, nodded towards the stranger and motioned his horse to a mad sprint, leaving her behind.

Suddenly she had them, they played in her ears as if she had just heard them. Though they made as little sense as ever, albeit she thought there was mayhap an apology in the words.

Now comforted that she still had this very important piece of her past with her, Melina took a very deep breath and opened the door. As she did so she saw Bilbo jump up from his position on one of the large cushions with an expression of shock mixed with happiness on his face. She thought, at first, that his reaction was directed at her, until she heard a voice speak from the left, where she knew was another, more direct, entry to the hall of fire.

"Bilbo!!" The voice thundered and a cold chill ran through her skinny body.

The Hobbit hopped and ran towards the newcomer, his arms wide open, and Melina followed his line of sight, though she wanted very much not to.

All at once her fingers loosened and the tray began an unnaturally slow fall to the ground below. The sound of shattering porcelain and bouncing apple barely drowned the sound of Bilbo's old, cheery scream:

"Gandalf!!"