Author's Note: Oh yes, I am alive. There are no words to apologize for not updating for so long, so I won't even try. I will say one thing though, on March 18th, 2010 I gave birth to a beautiful baby girl :)

I would like to thank all my reviewers. You truly make my writing world go around. I started writing again because of your lovely words. I'm sorry if I did not reply to everyone. But know that each review warms my heart and helps kick my butt into writing gear.

Thank you all for not giving up on me and this story. I hope you enjoy :)

Chapter 11

"At a dinner party one should eat wisely but not too well, and talk well but not too wisely."
-W. Somerset Maugham (1874 – 1965)

October 24th, 3018

Elrond say Frodo is good again. But he is not yet woke up. I am very happy I helped – it felt important that he be good again. I go see Bilbo and the other hobbits today. They speak strange tongue, but they are funny to see. They be very loud. Louder now, because Eldron say Frodo is alive.

The change of mood in the entire house that morning was intoxicating. The elven singing, which had been heartbreakingly sorrowful the past few days, was now the complete opposite – loud, merry and full of warmth. Melina could not help smiling broadly at nothing in particular all morning long. Breakfast looked to be a boisterous affair, more so because of a group of short, sturdy looking men which had taken up the middle of the dinning hall. The usual house residents had gathered around them, a few were laughing, others seemed to be arguing playfully, and the rest were sitting and discussing while sharing their meal.

Melina spotted Serien and moved toward her friend until she realized that the reason she could not make out any of the words spoken was not the unusual noise in the hall, but the fact that they were speaking another language entirely. The same one the hobbits spoke. Not wanting herself to feel frustrated on such a wonderful morning, Melina greeted Serien quickly, grabbed a piece of bread and some fruits, and left. She knew it was not the most polite thing to do, but she really did not want to linger so long amongst strangers. They would stare, ask questions to the others, and talk about her like she was not there.

It had been very easy to forget about her disfigurements while living with people who were used to seeing her. And she had been pulled out of that comfort zone, had witnessed the shocked look on someone's face for the first time in weeks by the hobbits. Oh, it must be said that their reaction had been mild, almost non-existent, but she had seen it. Pipin had stared the longest, but after a hard elbow in the ribs by Merry, he had smiled and absentmindedly offered her an apple he had already bit in. They had all laughed and the attention diverted away from her.

She was now heading over to see them again, certain to find them with Bilbo. The complicated family relations between the hobbits had been explained to her over and over again, but she had never been able to follow. The whole thing was made more complicated because Bilbo needed to translate everything the others said and it appeared to be impossible for a hobbit to simply stop at "cousin" or "uncle". They needed to go on and on about degrees of relation, and often go sidetracked by stories they suddenly remembered involving the relative mentioned. But in the end she decided that every hobbit seemed in some way related to the other, but that Bilbo and Frodo were what would commonly be known as "father and son".

By the time she arrived in the Hall of Fire, Melina had already finished eating her breakfast and was feeling wonderful once more. She was surprised to find Bilbo sitting alone on a cushion, snoring rather loudly. Somewhat disappointed, she silently left the room again and decided to see if Glorfindel had some free time. Thoughts of the golden angel made her smile and sent butterflies soaring in her stomach. She decided not to ponder too much on these reactions and from what emotions they might stem. It was dangerous territory, she knew. And after all, he was a Lord, and she was a broken soul.

Suddenly feeling like a grey cloud was beginning to form above her head, Melina hesitated. Her feet slowly came to a stop in the middle of a corridor and she stood still, staring at nothingness. At the edge of her vision she saw darkness, thick and all-consuming. It crept closer and closer, filling her mind, engulfing her body. She was unwanted. A broken and discarded old toy. Tainted by evil. They could all see it, what had been done to her. She was a walking reminder that there was a world beyond this valley. A world full of a maliciousness and dread. Who would want to think of such things while staying in the Last Homely House?

"Ah, Melina. 'Tis good I found you. If you are free, I would ask for your help."

The sweet melody of Arwen's voice shook Melina violently out of her despair. The darkness receded quickly, to be replaced by the heavenly vision of the most beautiful creature in existence. And she was looking at Melina, staring right into her very soul. In her beautiful eyes Melina saw nothing but friendship and warmth. No trace of resentment or disgust. Melina swallowed hard to try and hold back her tears.

"Help?" she asked weekly, unsure if she was making a request or asking for details.

Arwen smiled and moved closer, taking Melina's hand in her own. Warmth against cold, perfection against deformity, godliness against a mere mortal. Melina knew she was privileged to be in this lady's presence, let alone be considered something of a friend. A smooth finger reached up to her face and brushed her tears away.

"Frodo has awoken."

More tears came, but this time they came from a place of joy. There was something about that hobbit which melted Melina's heart, something deep and old.

"That is very good."

"Yes. We will have a feast tonight. There are many things to prepare."

"I help. What can I do?"

Arwen then began to slowly explain some of the things that would need to be done for the feast. Melina knew that her presence was of course not needed, in fact having to explain everything to her would be more of a hindrance than anything, but she was grateful to be included. Arwen had put her entourage to work on the decorations for the dinning hall. She had chosen the colours for the table cloth and flowers, and had also decided placing as many flower rings as they could braid before the afternoon – at which point they themselves would need to prepare.

The arrived at Arwen's usual place of rest and leisure where a few maidens were already hard at work on braiding flowers together. Delicious perfumes emanated from the large baskets of freshly picked blue and white flowers one of which Arwen now moved over to an empty chair. Melina greeted the rest of the party assembled before sitting down and slowly beginning one of her own rings. There was very little of the usual conversations as the women worked and Melina lost herself in her task, forgetting all about hobbits, men and sorrows. All that mattered was one blue flower here, twist, one white flower there, twist once more and repeat.

When Serien came to tap her on the shoulder, Melina thought she had come to help with the preparations until she stated:

"It is time we ready for the feast."

"Already?" but when she looked up Melina realized that the sun was quite low and the other women were beginning to stow away their material for the evening. "I see. I finish quick."

Melina tied up a few more flowers to her braid before finishing it off with a white ribbon. It was not as long as her first, but she was proud that she had managed so much in so little time. Putting the unused flowers away, Melina noticed Arwen motioning Serien over to look at something. She approached the pair and peered over their shoulders.

"Oh!" she gasped, "Is ready now?"

"Just in time for the feast. You will look wonderful tonight."

Melina smiled and carefully picked up her attire. It felt like silky water in her hands. The previously unfinished sleeves were now trimmed with a bright silver thread and hung heavily from the dress.

"Thank you very much lady Arwen."

"You are most welcome Melina. Now, I will also be going. I shall see you at the feast."

They parted, Serien with Melina and Arwen with the other women. Getting ready took double the normal amount of time for Serien seemed intent on making everything perfect. She carefully picked out a combination of scented oil for Melina's baths, washed her hair and later combed it dry before braiding some of it into complicated strands. She then helped Melina slip into her new dress and topped the whole things with jewels.

They talked as they readied, about this and that. Small talk. Melina remembered the short men she had seen that morning and decided to ask Serien about them.

"They are dwarves come from far away."

"Dwarves?"

Serien hesitated at the question. She seemed to think about the best way to answer, or maybe about the simplest explanation so that Melina might understand.

"Dwarves are the children of Aulë."

"Aulë?"

Serien sighed. Melina was certain she had heard the name before during one lesson with Bilbo, but the old hobbit said a lot about many things and she could not always keep up with his ramblings.

"He is a Vala, from the Undying Lands."

The look of utter confusion on Melina's face sent Serien into a fit of giggles which ended when she groaned in frustration. It seemed the topic was hard to explain and Melina decided to file it away for a later conversation.

"So, dwarves are not like hobbits?"

This made Serien laugh once more, this time she needed a moment to catch her breath before shaking her head.

"No, they are not like hobbits. They are not like eldars or men either. We are children of Ilúvatar," before she could even ask the question. Serien added: "Ilúvatar is the One who thought of this world."

Melina had a million questions to ask about that, but Serien clapped her hands together after finishing up one last braid and indicated that she was done. Looking at herself in the mirror, Melina decided that she looked quite lovely. Her body continued its recovery and she was putting on ever more weight. Her nails, which had always seemed to splinter and crack at the slightest touch, were now finally beginning to take on a healthy shine. Her hair was also much softer and silkier than before. But, of course, what enhanced the whole picture for tonight was Arwen's dress. Even the ugliest of woman would attract attention in a garment such as this one.

"How do you find yourself this evening?"

Melina turned to her friend and blushed.

"Much prettier."

Serien smiled sweetly and took her hand and finally they set out into the growing darkness toward an even merrier than usual dinner.

Most of the guests had already arrived by the time Melina entered the hall and she was overwhelmed by the sheer number of people gathered. The place looked much different than usual. Every table in the room was occupied, including the high table on the dais where she spotted both Glorfindel and Gandalf as well as Arwen who looked, if at all possible, even more stunning than before. The short men she had seen earlier that day were also attending, and other strangers which she had not yet seen.

Though it would have shocked Melina if she had been allowed to sit at the dais, she was slightly disappointed when Serien told her she was to sit on a side table full of strangers. Serien herself moved away to the other side of the hall. At least her seat gave her a good view of the dais and she was able to witness Frodo's arrival. He looked fresh and rosy, leagues better than when she had last seen him. He blushed furiously when brought to Elrond's table and onto a chair with many cushions upon it. Again Melina wondered where the attachment to the hobbit came from and when she would get to even speak to him.

Returning her attention to her own table, Melina noticed that one of the newly arrived men was sitting next to her. He was conversing with his neighbour but turned to her after some time and nodded a greeting. Melina returned the nod with a smile and even accepted an offered glass of wine. Unfortunately the man began to speak to her as he poured the wine and seemed to expect and answer when he lifted the glass to her. Melina shook her head slowly and replied in Sindarin that she did not understand. The man frowned, obviously confused, and turned to his neighbour again for clarification.

"My lady, Berenor would ask for your name and the land from which you hail. And expresses his surprise that you do not understand the Common tongue."

The Eldar, whom Melina remembered vaguely from previous meals, looked slightly troubled. She guessed that his uneasiness stemmed from the fact that he knew the answer to neither of these questions. It occurred to her, for the first time, that she was something of a mystery to everyone here assembled and as far as she was concerned Gandalf knew the most, and yet he knew nothing at all. She had never been asked to explain anything before. Not by Serien or Elrond or anyone else. Which, in retrospect, certainly was strange. But now she was required an answer, and simply refusing one would be an insult to a kind stranger.

"Tell Lord Berenor I am Melina. And I not know where I come. No memory." she pointed to her head to help clarify.

The Eldar looked at her curiously for a moment and Melina suddenly felt that he could see right through her lie. But he finally turned to the man and hopefully repeated her words. Suddenly Berenor burst out laughing making Melina jump in her seat. She turned to the other at the table who were all smiling and frowned. Finally someone explained:

"Berenor says that you must come from far indeed if you think him a lord."

Melina blushed furiously feeling utterly humiliated, but Berenor gently reached out and touched her hand with a great smile on his rugged face. He then lifted his glass and made a toast which simply said:

"Melina!"

The others lifted their glasses slightly and she hurried to do the same before taking a sip.

The rest of the dinner was uneventful. Once in a while she would steal glances at the dais and wondered what secrets Gandalf was whispering to Elrond, or what nonsense Legolas could be mumbling to Glorfindel to get him to chuckle like a child. Frodo has dived into a lively conversation with one richly attired stout stranger who seemed to be more beard than man. She was happy when the entire thing was over though and thrilled that they were heading to the Hall of Fire.

The Hall looked different tonight, magical in some strange ways. The fire seemed larger than usual and was the only real light in the room except for a few small lamps. The music and singing began as soon as the minstrel reached their places and Melina felt entranced by the voices. In the gloom of the room it seemed to her that the words held strange powers and played with her vision. As she moved through the beautiful bodies, trying to find someone she knew, she saw something gleaming at the corner of her eye. But when she turned toward it, there was nothing but more people.

She moved further into the room again, slower this time. She spotted Frodo and Bilbo and smiled at their long awaited reunion. The pair disappeared behind more people and when she tried to spot them again over some shoulders she suddenly saw endless golden fields bordered by a deep blue sea – another figure walked in front of her and the vision was gone again.

Melina strained her neck, but there was nothing more to see. She spun around when she suddenly heard the sound of seagulls, she tried to navigate toward them, but never seemed to arrive. To her right she caught sight of a beautiful garden from which the deep humming of a man could be heard. She reached out to touch the closest petal, but the image dissipated into nothingness.

"Melina?"

She slowly turned, and everything around her changed. The sounds from the Hall faded away to be replaced by the crashing of waves, screams of seagull and the sound of the wind as it passed through the tall golden grass. Standing in the middle of it all and staring at her with concern in his face, was Glorfindel. But he looked different than he had earlier. He was dressed in a simple white robe, his hair straight and as bright as the sun. On his brow was a single golden leaf.

"I've been here before," she murmured.

Glorfindel frowned and reached out to her face. His hand fell on her cheek gently.

"What you see is only a dream Melina. Come back to us here."

She frowned as the distant sound of singing and merrymaking reached her. But she fought against its return.

"But I know this place Glorfindel. I cannot leave it now that I've found it once more."

He was suddenly very close to her, blocking her vision with his entire body. She was forced to look up in his eyes.

"That is not possible."

She blinked and found herself in the Hall of Fire once more. Glorfindel still stood closer to her, his hand on her shoulder. The golden leaf had gone, replaced by a deep frown. The vision lingered at the back of her mind like a vague and blurry dream. She blinked a few more times and rubbed her eyes.

"I am tired. Glorfindel? Why you look worried?"

"'Tis nothing," and he replaced the frown with a bright smile. "Come, I'll have you sit before you fall asleep standing."

She followed him to a corner of the room where a few cushions remained unoccupied. They sat together and listened to the singing. Not long after, Melina recognized the voice of Bilbo and she saw him near the fire, reciting a long and strange poem. She understood no words of it, but the rest of the hall quieted down and many went to sit next to his stool. When he was finished they smiled and applauded. A conversation she could not follow started between him and a man she did not know, and the rest of the Hall then returned to their own songs.

She looked over to Glorfindel only to realize that he had been staring at her. There was a strange intensity in his eyes, and a dark seriousness. She felt herself shrink under his scrutiny until she could not hold his gaze anymore and gave a weak chuckle.

"What?" she asked.

But he did not smile. After a moment he shook his head and looked away.

"Nothing." was all the answer she received.

She felt that she had somehow disappointed him, but could not figure out how. Something was bothering him, but if he did not want to talk about it, she certainly could not force him to. Were she able to, she might have tried talking him into opening up to her, but she did not have good enough a grip on the language for such complicated sentences.

The awkwardness of their silence weighted heavily on her heart, but she did not know how to break it. After some time it was he who turned his head but instead of looking at her face he examined her dress up and down.

"I am happy Arwen was able to finish your dress for tonight. It looks very lovely."

The compliment left a bitter-sweet taste in her mouth. "It" was lovely, not her. But she swallowed her pride and decided that although he was being rude, at least he was speaking.

"How you know Arwen make me the dress?"

His eyes wandered up once more and he caught her gaze with a smirk.

"Because I asked her to make it for you before I left since you did not have a dress of your own yet."

Melina's frustration with the man only increased as now she could not keep being angry with him. She wondered whose dresses she had been wearing all this time if they were not hers, but did not ask. He had wanted her to have a dress. She could not help but smile and she looked down at her gown. The dress being a gift from Arwen would have been wonderful of course – but it being a gift from Glorfindel...

"Thank you," she whispered, stroking the soft material with her thumb.

She heard a sigh, but when she looked up he was greeting an approaching figure.

"Gandalf, how does the evening find you."

The old man sat down next to them and smiled.

"Very well. There is no better place in the world for merrymaking. And no greater singers and story tellers."

"You flatter. But I must agree. Elrond does keep his house well inhabited by the merriest of folks."

"And you Melina? How are you feeling?"

"Tired," she answered after a yawn. "But well."

Gandalf's smile seemed to waver then. He reached out and took both her hands in her own. Worry and dread twisted her stomach for the man bore such a serious expression she could not think he had anything good to say. And she was right.

"Melina. There is to be a council tomorrow."

"Council?" the word was unfamiliar to her.

"A meeting of the lords who have come to Rivendell where we will speak of important things. Things you need not concern yourself about, but I need something of you."

Melina frowned. Somehow she did not think Gandalf needed her help like Arwen had needed it earlier. This sounded very important and she was frightened that she might already know exactly what he was about to ask. She was tempted to say no. She owed him nothing. But that was the old Melina speaking. The selfish and scared woman who had never risked anything in life and had died alone and lonely. She squeezed his hands for courage.

"What you need me to do?"

He smiled and gently squeezed back.

"Melina, the man in the tower where I found you. The one who sent us up to the top."

She nodded. The Devil.

"He is Saruman and was once an ally to all of us, a very important ally."

Melina did not understand the word "ally" and frowned.

"He was a friend Melina."

"Ah..." was all she said. What else could she say? She felt disgusted by the thought of the Devil being Gandalf's or Elrond's friend and a little betrayed.

"Tomorrow I will tell my story. Our story."

She had known what he was going to ask. Still it nauseated her to think about telling a group of strangers the truth. And now not only would it be exposing her deepest secrets, but it would be her and Gandalf's words against these people's belief that Saruman was someone they could trust. She did not want to have to defend herself. She knew that Gandalf would of course support her, but she realized that she had no idea in which standing he was with these people.

Glorfindel and Elrond seemed to get along well enough with him, and so did the rest of the household. But these other lords Gandalf had mentioned would certainly hail from these new men and dwarves. Not to mention the hobbits. Oh how she would die of shame if her story be heard by Bilbo. And what if they finally asked questions? They would want to know where she came from, how she had arrived to the Tower and what would she answer? Could she lie to them, to Gandalf? But they would never believe her if she told the truth. She was not sure she herself believed the truth anymore.

The world from whence she came seemed a distant and imagined memory now. Could it not be possible that she had imagined her entire previous life in some delirium induced by a head trauma? But again something old and wise inside of her told her that she was not crazy. Her past was neither here nor there though and she returned her thoughts to Gandalf. He had not asked a question she realized, and yet he seemed to be waiting for an answer. So she provided him with the most honest one she could think of.

"I do not know."

He forced a tight smile under his beard and shook his head.

"I must do this Melina. And you should be at the council when I tell it. You do not need to be present for the entire meeting, most of it you will not understand and very little concerns you. But I would ask this of you."

"No, Gandalf I...no." she tried to pry her hands away, but he held on.

She quickly realized that she would give in. Gandalf was not offering her choices, he wanted her present and so she would be. It made her angry. It was her story, her pain and terrors he would share and he had no right to do so. She was not ready to speak of the Tower. Not ready to face everything again. She was certain that it would only make matters much worse than they already were. She would much rather be a mystery, to give the ones around her the benefit of the doubt. Maybe she had not been mutilated, perhaps she had been born that way or some horrible accident had caused her injuries.

She stopped struggling to free her hands and left them limp. She did not have the energy to fight him.

"Oh Melina," he whispered softly. "I am ever so sorry."

He lifted both hands to his mouth and placed a kiss on each one. He then rested them gently on her knees and stood up. As he did so he leaned over and kissed her forehead. Then he straightened and announced.

"I shall see you tomorrow then. Serien will bring you to the council when the time comes."

He turned and left. She felt alone and vulnerable. Shivering though it was not cold, Melina decided it was time she head to bed. There were too many thoughts in her mind for her to think clearly and the Hall of Fire was making her head fuzzy. She pushed herself up shakily, stumbled and felt a strong arm stabilize her.

"Allow me to help you to your room."

She had completely forgotten Glorfindel's presence. His face held no more traces of his earlier sternness and she breathed a sigh of relief. She needed friends at the moment and could not have been able to deal with the knowledge that she had somehow angered him.

They left the room in silence without biding anyone goodnight. The cool air outside helped clear her mind slightly, but she was still too overwhelmed to think straight. Instead she contemplated the beauty of the sky. It was a moonless night and the stars shone brighter than ever. She stopped walking for a moment to truly take in the eeriness of the scenery. Melina had never been an astrologer, but she had been able to distinguish the easiest of constellation. But there was nothing familiar about this sky. No point of reference. Not even the North star.

She heard Glorfindel's footstep falter as he realized she had stopped until he too paused. After a moment she was startled by his voice.

"You do not know the sky."

It was not a question. She imagined how strange it must be for someone not to recognize something as important as constellations here. She had witnessed their level of technology and had no doubt that knowing how to read the stars was an important, and potentially life-saving, skill. Not to mention the stories she was certain they associated with them. Legends they had conjured around images they had drawn between stars.

"No. I do not."

She looked at him with confidence. There was no reason to lie, no reason to hide anymore. Gandalf would tell the world of her sorrows, she could only accept it. She would not share her past with them, not with strangers. But maybe one day she would open up to friends.

"Come, you will need rest for tomorrow."

She nodded and went along. When he offered her his arm she took it gratefully. She felt that a strange calm had overcome her. Her mind was devoid of conflict or analysis. The only thing she thought of was the present. The sound of their feet on the ground, the wind in the trees, the warmth of his body next to hers and the prospect of sleep.

When they reached her bedroom doorway they stopped. She took one more step and turned to him.

"Thank you."

He inclined his head, a curtain of golden hair falling against his face and she could not resist reaching up and pushing the strands away from his eyes. He looked up, startled, and Melina froze. She quickly pulled her hands away but they were caught by Glorfindel. He held her fingers in his hands and seemed to search her face. Melina wanted nothing more than to lean over and place her lips against his, but she could not find the courage to do so. The possibility of him pushing her away in disgust was too probable and she would not risk it. It was better to dream than to know the terrible truth.

She attempted to give him a friendly smile and a shrug, but his face remained serious. At length he asked:

"Who are you Melina?"

She had no answer. She wanted to chuckle and tell him her full name, but her lips would not move. For some strange reason her name felt like a lie. She so wanted to tell him the truth, to open up and reveal everything. But nothing about her past felt real. Or at least, it felt so incomplete that it might as well be a lie. What she wanted to tell him, what she truly needed to share, she could not remember herself. More than ever she now felt that there was a hole in her soul. A piece that she had lost somewhere. A dark corridor in her memory where there had once been light.

And so, for the second time that night, she answered with the most truthful words:

"I don't know."

And as Gandalf had done, and yet so differently, Glorfindel brought both her hands to his lip and placed a kiss on each one.

"Good night." he said before leaving.

She watched him go until he blended with the darkness and then quickly undressed and slipped into the thick warm sheets of her bed. Tomorrow would be the worst day of her life in the house, she was certain. But she was not able to think too much about it for sleep quickly took over and the last thoughts she had before slipping into a world of dreams was Glorfindel in a field of gold.