Author's Note: Hello to all! I am not dead, dying, nor have I abandoned the story.

First, I want to thank everyone who is sticking around through the few and far apart updates; I hope you will until the end.

Second, I owe you some explanation for my lack of writing. As some of you know, I have been forced to learn German (every day, between June and December) in order to get my residency visa. I am pleased to announce the end of those lessons, though I am not quite yet in possession of the precious piece of document. I have to wait to get my exam results. *crosses fingers*

And a million thanks to all the reviewers, special thanks to Alaenor-Skybir simply because your review is the drop that overfilled the glass. It kicked me back into gear, and let me write this in less than a day.

Chapter 9

"Being a woman is a terribly difficult task since it consists principally in dealing with men."

-Joseph Conrad (1857 - 1924)

The crashing sound of breaking dishes died down quickly, leaving a heavy silence in its wake. Melina inhaled once, twice, and she blinked half a dozen time, but Gandalf did not disappear. When her mind began to function again, she found herself in a chaos of emotions and conflicting reflexive reactions. She wanted to cry and run away, laugh and hug him, scream and hit him; all these things and more.

Her confusion forced her to do nothing at all and she stood still with her lips opening and closing slowly. She watched as Gandalf turned to Bilbo and whispered something in the old man's ear. Her teacher nodded, gave her a confused and compassionate look, before he slowly walked out of his favourite dwelling.

Feeling was returning to Melina's limb as Gandalf watched Bilbo leave the room. Her legs twitched and she managed to take one step backwards. Her muscles were contracting for a full about turn, and she would have ran, if his blue eyes had not shot up and connected with her own. Her limbs relaxed immediately, leaving her in a strange, uncomfortable, half turned position, but she could not find the strength to redress herself. She felt her teeth sink deeply into her lips as she attempted to regain control of her uncooperative body. Every fibre of her being was telling her to spit at him and turn her back, to have him run after her and beg her forgiveness, but still she did not move.

It was those eyes.

Those same eyes that had stirred her in ways she had never before imagined inside that cursed tower. Eyes that seem so old, older than his white beard, his wrinkles, older than anything Melina had ever seen. The pain contained in those eyes only seemed to have increased since she had last looked upon them. Her heart ached with compassion and against all odds she felt herself walking forward.

Her stomach violently recoiled as she lifted her arms to greet his embrace. She was supposed to hate him...but her limbs were not listening to reason. It was not until she was buried within his heavy robes, with his surprisingly strong arms around her frame, that the spell broke. Melina blinked furiously against the rough fabric, awakening from whatever trance had possessed her and she attempted to step back. She barely managed a centimetre before his hold on her tightened and breathing became difficult.

Though her voice was muffled and bits of dirt and cloth entered her mouth, Melina screamed at the top of her lungs words that were doomed not to be understood:

"You left me!"

She screamed it once, twice, after a while she lost count, but still she screamed it. It did not make her feel better; did not release her anger or ease the pain, but still she screamed. His fingers were bruising her back, and her ribs felt close to shattering, but his hold on her never wavered.

Less and less air made its way into her lungs and her screams turned into whispers. Some sort of fabric eventually sent her into a coughing fit, after which she was finally silent; her throat too painful to use.

Very slowly her breathing began to even out, and as the waves of anger receded, she began to cry. Her tears were silent and soothing, and she felt her fingers clutch at his cloak, pulling him impossibly closer. The realization that Gandalf had, as she had hardly dared hope, returned, was sinking in. It had taken what now seemed an incredible amount of time, but he was there again. In this man, she was certain, resided the answers to most of her questions; or rather, to the most important ones. This man, for all she was aware, was the only one who knew what had happened to her, the only one that had shared her pain at the hand of the Devil, the one who had saved her and given her the first true human contact since her rebirth.

Melina did not hate this man.

It was a hard truth to face. He had, after everything he had given her, abandoned her. And something within her mind dearly wanted to hate him; but she could not.

A long time after her tears had dried, and her body had calmed, Melina felt the arms around her loosen. Gandalf took a step back, his retreating hands shaking slightly as he squeezed her shoulders gently. She looked up slowly, her cheeks tear stained but her eyes dry, and felt her lips turn into a thin smile and her face go red. He smiled back, though it did not cover the exhaustion marking his features. He seemed smaller than before, his face having lost some of its power, leaving behind the wrinkles of an old man. She had not noticed before, but his hair seemed whiter and unkempt, and where she saw skin it was stained with grime.

A frown began to dig itself in her brow. Gandalf let out a loud sigh, his fingers squeezing her shoulders again, before he took another step back and dropped both arms. Melina opened her mouth, but before anything could be spoken she heard someone enter the Hall.

"Lady Melina," came the melodious voice of Lord Elrond, his greeting accompanied by a quick bow.

Melina only looked at him, her frown still plastered on her brow. Her fingers twitched a reflexive greeting, but she doubted the angel noticed. His attention was turned immediately to Gandalf and quick words filled with hurry and pain were exchanged. Bilbo slowly walked in then and both men stopped talking, casting compassionate looks towards the old Hobbit. Melina knew something very important was happening, but like everything else in this world, she was forced by language into ignorance. As quickly as he had entered, Lord Elrond bid his farewell and departed, Gandalf only a few meters on his heels. The man in grey did cast her an apologetic look before he hugged Bilbo again and made a hasty retreat.

She told herself that his look had promised longer, better moments together, and of course his presence at dinner later...but it was only her heart being hopeful – her mind told her that he was a busy man with some kind of problem to solve. It would not surprise her if both him and Elrond were absent that evening. But she hoped...still she dared hope that he was in Imladris to stay, or least an extended period of time. That he had come back especially for her, because of his promise to her.

Her frown never left her face as she slowly bent down, picked up the broken pieces of porcelain and gently placed them in the tray. Her movements were slow and deliberate, each extension of her arms done with extreme calculation. She devoted her entire attention to the task of returning to the kitchen, apologizing a thousand times, and preparing another tray of tea. She allowed herself another long moment to mop the spilled tea on the delicate tiles and by the time she finally settled besides Bilbo for her lessons, her heart had finally slowing into a normal rhythm.

But her lessons did not go well. Her body may have been lulled into calmness, but her mind ran wild. She tried to imagine where he was now, experiencing strange tingles of excitement at the thought that he was in the same house, visiting the same rooms she had. He was probably in Elrond's office, sipping tea and smoking some of his much loved tobacco, of which he constantly smelled. Or perhaps he was refreshing himself after days of harsh travels, finding peace in a hot bath and clean clothes. It pained her to have him so close, and yet so far. All thoughts of the hate and pain were cast aside as the fear of an imminent departure counselled her into softer emotions.

Luckily her inattention did not seem to bother Bilbo. He had pulled out his book, the one she had seen him write in many a times, and was babbling on happily while pointing at certain passages excitedly. As the name "Gandalf" was mentioned every three sentences, Melina deduced that the two had some history together; and that parts of it might have been in that book. Curiosity about the past of her grey companion finally pulled her out of her reveries and she attempted to concentrate on the old man's stories. It was difficult. Bilbo was not paying attention to his pronunciation, nor was he speaking slowly as he would normally for her, but she did make out names of other companions that must have accompanied them.

It was not long after, probably exhausted by his unusual boost of energy, that Bilbo fell sound asleep. Knowing that the Hobbit would not be present at dinner, and therefore could be allowed to sleep as long as he wanted, Melina stole out of the hall and headed for her quarters. The sun was getting lower in the sky, indicating that she did not have long to wait for dinner. For the first time since Glorfindel had left, Melina had nothing other than happy thoughts in her mind. She was determined to dress as well as she could for the evening, and to take a long drawn bath.

She was pleased, if very surprised, to find Searien already in her room, preparing a bath.

"Good afternoon Melina," the angel greeted, herself clad in a rich grown of deep blue.

"And to you, my friend." Melina replied, frowning at the other woman's twinkling eyes. Feeling more comfortable with her friend than anyone else in the department of speaking, Melina decided to ask a few questions. "Gandalf is here; why?" subtlety had to be abandoned when one's vocabulary was so limited.

Searien lifted her perfect face and starred at her for a moment before replying:

"I do not know. He arrived today. He speaks with Lord Elrond now."

Melina nodded, but was disappointed that her friend knew nothing more than she. Her curiosity still not quite appeased, for why was Searien in her quarters so early, Melina asked:

"And why you are here now? With the bath? And new dress?" she pointed to the lovely gown hanging from the screen. It was maroon, with an over-coat of silver-blue. The long sleeves and high collar exactly to Melina's liking.

"Because Gandalf is here." Searien replied with a broad smile, displaying perfectly white teeth. She too had abandoned subtlety it seemed.

Melina blushed furiously and threw her friend a wide-eyed look. How in the world could Searien have guessed something Melina kept so close to her heart? But the angel giggled and any anger or humiliation melted from her mind. She could trust Searien to divulge nothing to anyone, though she wondered how many people might guess the extent of her feelings for the man in grey. Especially when she herself did not know the answer.

Contended to be pampered, Melina allowed herself to be undressed and bathed; as well as massaged, perfumed, braided and dressed. The whole process took double the time as would normally, but for once she enjoyed it. Searien kept up her usual habit of talking throughout the entire exercise, but this time Melina was certain she knew the topic and even picked out a meaning here and there.

"Gandalf is a very high Lord. Elrond and he know each other a long time. He will be at dinner tonight."

This last planted a permanent grin on Melina's face and she busied her mind trying to imagine the evening's seating. She wished with all her heart to placed nearby so that, though she might not be able to carry an intelligent conversation, she would at least benefit from his presence. Or maybe Gandalf's arrival would throw her out of her honoured place at the high table and she would have to contend with watching him from a distance. She was certain she could not sit through the night if such cruelty was thrown upon her.

They finally left her bedroom and arm in arm walked down to the large dinning hall. As usual they were neither the first, nor the last to arrive. Though more nervous than she would ever admit, Melina stared at the high table as soon as it came in view. Disappointment weighted so heavily on her shoulders at the sight of two empty seats that her knees buckled slightly. She turned to Searien for an explanation, and was half-relieved to hear her whisper:

"They come later...last."

Her friend then disentangled herself with a soft smile and walked away to her table. Melina, now semi-accustomed to walk the long stretch of floor alone, quickly made her way to her usual chair. She hid a grin of satisfaction when she noticed that Legolas had been moved from Lord Elrond's right to his left, and was now sitting across the table. He smiled up to her as she took her seat, pulled out for her by the man on her right which she thanked blushingly, and wished her a good evening.

"And to you, Lord Legolas;" she replied politely, elated beyond humiliation for her heavy accent. Her new found confidence pushed her to speak even more, "how are you today?"

"Very well, thank you."his smile was so large, lighting his face with merry beauty, that Melina wondered if he was capable of sadness, or anger. "Would you care for some wine tonight?"

Oh the carelessness of love...

"Yes, thank you." her voice was full of joy, more than anyone had ever heard her produce.

She took a sip of the bitter liquor slowly, found it pleasant in her palate, and took a second. The food had not yet arrived, and so she occupied her mind by fiddling with her cup while listening to Legolas and his neighbour speak.

When finally the Lord and his esteemed guest arrived, any tension Melina might have felt was numbed by the twice emptied wine cup. They entered the hall together, walking in unison as equals do. Everyone in the room stood up abruptly and elegantly, leaving Melina to shuffle out of her chair last and loudest. She might have also lost her footing had her neighbour not put out a helping hand. She thanked the man quietly, ashamed at the fact that she did not remember his name and promised herself to ask it from Legolas later on.

When both lords were finally in place, the entire hall sat in unison, this Melina did easily though she more fell than sat. The sudden movements made her head spin and she put a hand in front of her mouth to prevent anything from escaping. She was now becoming aware of her drunkenness, and cursed herself a million times mentally for her stupidity.

"Water..." she slurred when Legolas attempted to refill her glass with alcohol.

He smirked, his eyes shinning in innocent mockery, and obliged her wished, filling a second, larger goblet, with fresh water. She drank the entire thing in three swallows and put it down quickly for a second serving. By then the food was beginning to arrive and both Gandalf and Elrond were looking at her curiously.

Oh the shame...

She smiled weakly at them, but could not hide her bright red cheeks, nor the clumsiness of her hands. Luckily Legolas began to speak in a loud and melodious tone, sparing her one quick glance before launching into some story. She was able to down two more goblets of water and quite some bread before Gandalf returned his attention to her. By then, the edge of drunkenness had been taken off, though her bladder was very unhappy. Any uncomfortable feelings were forgotten however, when she turned to look at him.

She had been so busy not falling over earlier that she had missed the changes. He had indeed bathed, and groomed, and garbed himself in luxurious new clothes. Ages had been taken off of him it seemed, as well as weight. His robes were of a tighter fitting, and displayed an impressive stature instead of plump curves. Even his eyebrows had been tamed so that his eyes now seemed larger.

They studied each other for a long moment before he took her hand gently, she tensed visibly, and asked:

"How are you?"

She wanted to lie, to tell him she was fine, very well indeed, thank you. Much better than before, nothing at all to worry about; nightmares, what nightmares? She wanted to spare him the truth of her relapses, the chaos in her head, the voices and faces of demons. But the jerk of her body when he had touched her had already betrayed anything Elrond might not have already told him. She slumped her head, giving the white table cloth a very intense stare, and mumbled the polite lie:

"I am good, and you?"

He sighed, his breath tickling her temple, but he did not press the subject. It was hardly the proper place to speak openly. She was broken, he had known this and if he had expected her to make some kind of miracle recovery in her short time here, he would be sorely disappointed. She felt him squeeze her fingers tightly and heard a barely audible whisper:

"I am so sorry..."

She looked up, but he had turned away, his attention returned to the food before him and the merriment of Legolas...but his hand stayed. He ate adroitly with his left hand, keeping his right one securely attached to her left. Their entanglement hidden from view under the table. The touch sent shivers through her body, made butterflies soar in the gut, but she refused to let her face betray her emotions. She smiled, picked at her food, though she was not hungry, and replied to questions addressed directly at her.

The evening passed, too quickly it seemed, more so since Melina had already decided she was not going to stay for the dancing. She was tired, the day's event had drained her more than she had first thought, and the alcohol had done the rest. Gandalf's hand had removed itself when the food was taken away, and so she was free to make her exit. She waited until the singing began, and then excused herself before anyone could ask her to dance. They looked up as she stood, wished their goodnight, and returned to their conversations when she left.

She was happy.

It was a startling realization for a woman who had experienced sadness and anger for most of her life, but she was certain of it. The cool air energized her enough so that she decided to roam her Luthien garden before going to bed. She wanted time to review the images of today in her mind, finding pleasure in replaying the scene of his arrival. She discarded all emotions not related to happiness that she might have felt upon seeing him, and only remembered the pure, unadulterated joy. He had returned to her, and she could wish for nothing more...except Glorfindel's return.

Though perhaps not as deeply attached to the Eldar as she was to Gandalf, Melina missed her friend terribly. But she waved the sadness away, if one man could return, so would the other. Instead she concentrated on the good memories of hours spent in Glorfindel's study, attempting to read a story book at his feet while he worked on paperwork at his desk. Then she added Gandalf, standing perhaps at the window, smoking his pipe and looking over her once in a while. She decided that such a scene in reality would make her the happiest woman alive, and filed the plan away for its later realization.

After a few slow rounds in the small garden, Melina angled out and began the ascension to her room. She passed close enough to the hall to hear that the night was not nearing its end, and was almost tempted to return, but decided against it. She did not know if Gandalf danced, and if he did, she was too uncertain about her own skills to dance with him.

As she arrived to the open entrance of her quarters, Melina let out a loud yelp. Panic settled deep in her gut and she was suddenly surrounded by deformed demons, all of which were clawing at her dress. She screamed and flailed her arms, stumbling backwards and falling down in her haste to escape. Strong hands gripped her shoulders, and she closed her eyes against the terror of the Torturer.

"No...please...don't!" she screamed.

"Melina...Melina!"

The voice was far away, but she was not immune to its power. But as she moved towards it she fell again, this time into such deep darkness that it pressed against her body. She struggled against it, but she was frozen. A voice, such a familiar voice, screamed to her, but she did not understand its meaning...

"breath Melina....."

She cracked open her eyes....

"Melina breath!"

She saw a dark, bushy face starring at her...

"MELINA BREATH!"

And like a drowning woman breaking the surface, she inhaled sharply, relieving the burning sensation in her lungs.

Everything around her lit up, though it remained night. She saw his blue eyes shine brightly, though they were shadows all along. She threw herself upwards against his bright silver robes, though in this light they were black. But anything would seem brighter to a mind who witnessed such darkness.

"You are safe...quiet now..."

She did not cry, made no sound, but trembled. Reality pieced itself together and she realized that he had been sitting on her bed. Awaiting her return, for he had arrived to find her missing. She had been startled, that was all, by the unexpected visit. She slowly disentangled herself, humiliated by her violent reaction, and stood up – refusing his offered hand. She hated that he had seen her like this, weak, broken and so easily frightened.

So she walked past him, not gracing his apologetic eyes with a comment or a glance. She heard him follow behind her, but he stopped a respectable distance from the bed. She busied herself by taking off her jewelries, fumbling a few because of her trembling fingers. She reached up to undo her hair, but after the fifth failed attempt to untie her braids, she felt him move behind her, his fingers doing the work easily. She froze, tense and nervous, but allowed him to continue. She watched him in the mirror, but the lack of light prevented any distinction of expressions or features. They were shadows amongst shadows.

When finally he was done he shook free her hair, allowing it to cascade down her shoulders. She turned towards him slowly and looked up. But in the darkness he was little more than a beard with hair. Only his eyes, unnaturally bright, were discernible. She should say something, but could think of nothing. His eyes seemed to be searching for something, waiting for a comment of some sort. She frowned, wondering what she could possibly offer to him – he was a lord of equal, if not more, power than Elrond. What could he want from her? What did a master want from a dog? She was the lowest of the lowly, scarred, broken and confused beyond help.

But the answer came.

The answer came because she herself had been powerful, if retched. She had had a servant who, in earlier days, had came crawling back to her even after the most terrible of scolding. And she had looked up to Melina with those eyes, seeking what she had never given her. Acceptance...

Melina felt tears rolling down her face, invisible in the darkness. Silently she raised herself on the tip of her toes so that she stood only slightly below him. He did not move, did not seem to react, only watched. She searched his eyes for doubt, for a hint that she was mistaking, and found nothing but invitation. Angling forward, ever so slightly, she slowly dived into his scratchy beard to place a soft kiss on his wrinkled cheek.

Still he did not move, did not pull away in disgust. After a moment, though not before a few of her tears had fallen into his beard, she whispered in his ear:

"I forgive you." in her best Sindarin.

Suddenly his arms were around her, pulling her close and burying his face against her shoulder. He was quiet, gentle, made no demands and stepped back immediately when she loosened her arms. He bid her a hastened goodnight as soon as he was able to take a step back, and left in a billow of robes.

Melina stood alone in the dark for a long moment. She still had not quite absorbed what had just happened when she finally fell asleep; and perhaps it was because her mind was so numb, or her mental exhaustion so complete, but that night Melina slept better than she ever had.

Morning came, as many mornings do, with confusion and blurred lines between reality and dreams. In a grip of panic Melina sat abruptly, uncertain if the events of the previous day had only happened in her mind. But upon closer revision of her memories, she became fairly certain that Gandalf had truly returned.

Luckily she had woken up early, long before breakfast despite the alcohol and exhaustion of the day before. So she refreshed herself, dressed and combed her hair with time to spare; and completely ignored her self imposed duty to write in her journal.

She wondered where he was staying, in which section of the house did he sleep. Was he near here? The thought made the butterflies returned. But she doubted it. It seemed this section of the house was inhabited by women only. It made sense, in a house without doors or window panes, that men and women would be separated for privacy's sake. She had seen Glorfindel's quarters, on the other side of the house, once and she imagined Gandalf residing somewhere in their vicinity.

It took a great effort not to run to breakfast, and despite a voice in her head telling her that Gandalf may not be present, she had a feeling he would.

As expected the hall was half-empty, most people arrived later, though Searien was already present. She sat at her usual table, though her neighbour was new to the place. Melina grinned broadly as she approached her seat, silently thanking her luck for not having to choose between two friends.

Awkwardness being a second nature to her by now, Melina was relatively comfortable facing Gandalf. She smiled, blushed and bade him good morning as she sat down.

"Good morning Melina."

"Good morning Searien. Have you sleep well?"

"Very well. And yourself? You left early last night."

"Oh...yes. I sleep good. I did not want to dance." she kept her eyes down as she broke open a roll of bread. "You danced?"

"Yes, but not very long. I was also very tired."

"Ah..." she spread some marmalade on her bread before looking up at him and smiling, "And you Gandalf? Did you sleep good?"

"Very well," he replied, nothing in his face hinting at discomfort except a tightness of his lips, like someone trying not to smile, "thank you."

The last words were spoken in such a tone that Melina could not mistake their meaning. A thank you not for her trivial questions, but for her forgiveness. She nodded, her giddiness sobered for a moment, before returning to her food.

The pair continued to talk and, though not quite excluding her, they left Melina behind as they changed from subject to subject. Not that she was not used to it by now, so that as she ate she listened to them politely, looking into the face of the speaker and smiling when she thought it required. She understood a lot more than when she had first arrived, more than they realized she was certain. But though she picked up words here and there, and sometimes whole sentences, the meaning often escaped her.

Now they were talking about trees, and then about some people, after that Arwen and then, of course, herself. She watched nervously as Gandalf made enquiries, and Searien answered, often looking in her direction as if to reassure Melina that she was not divulging private information. There was a mention of her lessons with Bilbo, which, Melina assured Gandalf, were going well. Then the dancing was chuckled at, followed by her new found hobby of stitching.

"No," she shook her head, "I not do so good. Not like Arwen."

Of course not like Arwen, she doubted anyone could do anything like Arwen, but Searien waved a hand in the air nonetheless and reassured Gandalf that she embroidered very well.

The chit chat ended when Gandalf excused himself, claiming to have some things to attend to which included Lord Elrond, and promised to see both of them that evening. Melina waved her goodbye, as her mouth was occupied by an orange that moment, and watched him leave sadly. Searien gave her a strange, knowing, kind of smile before she too finished her meal and left.

"I will see you at dinner. Have a good day, my friend."

"Oh...yes, you too."

A good day...a normal day...with her usual routine. But, of course, it was far from being a normal day, and Melina was again distracted throughout her entire lessons. This time Bilbo also seemed troubled, and he hardly spoke at all. She wondered if he had received some news from Gandalf, but could not ask. So the pair sat in silence, both starring into nothingness.

This time though, nothingness was not too interesting. She had imagined an entire day with him, talking about nothing, simply enjoying having him nearby...but of course that had been folly. He was busy, too busy to keep her company. She would see him tonight though, and the thought cheered her immensely.

The problem with having to go through and entire day only thinking about the end of it, is that the said day never ends.

Having tired of the nothingness of the Hall of Fire, Melina tested the nothingness of her Luthien garden. When this too failed to provide any entertainment, she took a bath. A very, very long bath. Lunch provided some diversion, but was over too soon, leaving her alone again.

Finally, alone and annoyed, Melina dared to approach Arwen's stitching party. As usual they were assembled, though Searien was nowhere to be found. Melina wondered if her presence would be welcomed without the presence of her attendant, and almost turned around to leave when her nerves abandoned her, but she was seen, welcomed, seated, and given the bag containing her work.

Having something productive to do paid off. She threw herself completely and passionately into her work and when, after so long that her neck was cramped, she looked up, the sun had moved noticeably.

"Lady Melina?"

She turned to find Arwen standing close by, holding up a magnificent looking dress. It was deep silver, but changed to dark blue when Arwen moved it gently. A pearly-white belt was tied loosely around the waist and tiny silver chains hung across the chest atop a v-shaped cut where the inner, cream coloured, material could be seen.

"Could you stand up please?"

Melina put her work aside and stood, in awe, as Arwen approached with the dress. She stood still as the elegant angel pressed the gown against her shoulders, testing the length and size. Still shocked, Melina could only grin back when Arwen nodded appreciatively.

"It is almost finished." she said with a soft smile, indicating the roughly cut edges of the long sleeves.

Melina could see that they would be greatly improved by stitching the material, and wondered how long such a work would take, for images of herself in the dress eating with Gandalf were already playing in her mind. She, of course, did not show her impatience and simply thanked the women over and over, until they were all blushing from praise.

Another look at the sky told her she should make her exit. She thanked the women again, returned, albeit nervously, Arwen's embrace, and left for her room. This time Searien was not present, and Melina was left alone to choose her gown and braid her hair. Though not as elegant as the day before, she was pleased with her looks...as pleased as one could be. In full light she still found it difficult to look at herself, but one had to resign even to the most horrid of circumstances when no hope of change was possible. And so she ignored the scars, and concentrated on the accessories.

This time Gandalf and Elrond were already seated, and there were none of yesterday's ceremonies. He stood to pull out her chair, an action she still was not used to being subjected to, and asked how her day had been. Well she answered, and she was tempted to mention her new dress, but decided against it. The surprise would be greatest if left untold. So she ate, and drank, though no alcohol this time.

She had wanted to leave early. Escape to her rooms again in order to avoid the dance floor and, in her heart of heart, hoping to see him in her chambers again. But some things never go as planned; so that when she stood to depart, her hand was grabbed and she was swirled against a warm, grey body. She began to resist, mumbling excuses, imagined pains, and exhaustion, but Gandalf only grinned as he danced.

And as soon as he hopped from one foot to the other, sent his hair flying as he twirled, she laughed. Out loud. Hard. And long. She laughed until her sides ache and tears came down; laughed until she was not sure why she had begun. People were looking at her, some had stopped dancing. Gandalf was standing immobile before her, a smirk on his lips and a twinkle in his eyes.

The whole thing would have become awkward, and she began to feel the weight of their stares, but the master of merriment would not let it happen. Legolas arrived in all his golden glory and swooped not herself, but Gandalf, off his feet and both men began moving across the floor. This time her laughter was mimicked by the rest of the crowd until both buffoons stopped to catch their breath.

Melina looked at both of them with a feeling of love she had never before felt. And something, deep inside her, fixed itself. She knew it as soon as it happened. Love, again, proved itself the strongest of cures. But it was not only the love she felt, but the one she knew she received. She had known herself to be cared for since her arrival here, but knowing and feeling are worlds apart to a broken heart.

Now she felt it.

She saw it.

And she returned it.

That night she danced until her feet hurt, and laughed until her chest burnt.

Thanks again for sticking around so long, and reading.