Author's Note: Well hey there. So my plan to get a chapter out by the end of July turns out to be a success, if just...A little update on my ever more chaotic life, I just scored my dream job! I am now working at a gaming company wee! And from home too, so I can still spend time with my little 4 month old daughter. But I would not let baby, work or other household chores prevent me from writing for you lot, NOOO! I persevered, and here you are!

Enjoy! And please review. A simple "great story" goes a long way to give me the energy I need to keep going. Of course, the longer the review, the more energy I get ;)

Chapter 13

Is there life before death?
Graffito, in Belfast

The fire danced in front of her eyes. She watched it, mesmerized, engrossed in the simplicity of its life. She had been told that the fire in the Hall of Fire was never put out. That it blazed as brightly today as it had the day the Hall had been built.

"We missed you at dinner."

Melina blinked slowly and turned to see who had snuck up from behind. At first she thought there was no one at all, and panicked, was she hearing voices? But she only needed to lower her gaze slightly to find Bilbo standing in the gloom.

"I was not hungry," she replied and turned back to the fire.

She hoped Bilbo would take the hint, but she heard shuffling footsteps soon followed by the groan of an old man plopping down on his favourite cushion.

"Bah, you did not miss much, the food was not very good," he chuckled.

Food in Rivendell was nothing if not exquisite and Melina pulled a face, unamused. Bilbo stopped laughing abruptly, cleared his throat and was quiet for a moment – but just a moment.

"We live in terrible times."

Melina sighed loudly and turned to him, but he was not looking at her. He was staring into the fire and to her utter dismay, Bilbo brought both hands to his face and began to weep. Melina straightened uncomfortably. She watched his frail shoulders shake and could not help but feel sorry for him. She did not know the cause of his sorrow, but doubted it stemmed from Gandalf's story about her past.

After a long while he seemed to collect himself.

"I have made many mistakes in my life, but I never thought they would put Frodo in jeopardy."

Melina was confused now.

"Jeopardy?"

He turned to her as if seeing her for the first time. Then he reached over and tapped her on the knee lightly. It was so patronizing that Melina almost slapped his hand away, but she remembered what Serien had said, "secrets". Still, she needed to ask.

"Is Frodo alright?" she had poured too much of herself into saving that boy's life to let him get in harm's way again.

Bilbo hesitated, seemed to fight more tears, then simply replied:

"I do not think so."

Then silence fell again. Melina did not press the matter, if Bilbo was not allowed to speak to her, she would not force him. She had expected a cheer up speech from the old hobbit...or maybe she had hoped for one. Now she felt even more depressed than before. Suddenly she stood up and declared.

"Good night Bilbo."

He looked at her miserably from the floor and mumbled:

"I am so terribly sorry Melina."

"I know. Me too."

She turned and left. The air outside was cool and fresh, the house seemed entirely quiet, which was uncommon. Melina shivered, crossed both arms against her chest, and started up toward her chambers.

She walked slowly, her feet rustling against the floor. A sudden gust of wind extinguished some of the nearby lanterns and Melina hugged herself tighter. She picked up her pace, wanting nothing more than to crawl beneath her covers and forget about the day.

Her room was pitch black, unusual since Serien normally left at least one lantern burning. Blaming the wind and seeing no use in lighting a lantern now, Melina simply began to undress as soon as she walked inside.

"Melina..."

Her scream pierced the air. A figure lunged at her from her bed and she scrambled to get away from it. Hands gripped her arms firmly and pulled her close. She struggled and screamed some more. Then stopped abruptly. It was his smell, his warmth, the tingly feeling at the back of her neck every time she approached him, the sound of his voice...

"Forgive me, I did not mean to..."

Her heart was beating so terribly fast. She tried to take a breath, but choked. She raised her hands and grabbed his back, trying to pull herself impossibly closer to him. Again she tried to breathe, but nothing happened. Against her ear she felt his lips.

"I am so sorry Melina..."

The hands on her shoulders dropped and moved to encircle her instead. All strength then left her body and she collapsed against him, tears following against his robes. And still he whispered:

"I am so, so sorry."

Again and again. Until, with each breath, her hiccups eased into shallow breathing, and then into nothing but silent tears. It took her a moment to realize that his words had turned into a song, but when she did her tears stopped. She could not understand his words, but it did not matter. The tone was soothing, tender, something akin to a lullaby. After a moment he stopped. They stood, still entangled in each others' arms, in the silent night.

Melina did not want to move and was too afraid to speak, less it made him pull away. She could not help the soft sigh of pleasure that escaped her lips though and froze. When she felt him pull away, she wanted to fight it, to clench her fists tightly and keep him close, but she did not. His hands returned to her shoulders, he took a step back to create a safe distance between them, and looked down to her. Had it been bright enough, he could have seen her burning cheeks. Still, despite the darkness, she could not bring herself to lift her eyes to him, too afraid he would read her like a book.

"Melina...between us..."

She wanted to dig herself a hole, crawl into it, and never reappear. Never mind her cheeks, her entire face was burning. Before he could continue to speak, she quickly lifted her hand and pressed her fingers against his lips. She could not have him say the words she dreaded so much.

"Friends."

She felt his lips tighten under her fingertips and dropped her hand. She clenched her teeth, forced herself not to break down again as he took another step back and bowed to her. Then he turned and headed for the door swiftly.

"Why!" she yelled.

He stopped abruptly, and turned around once more. Melina was shocked, she had not meant to speak. But the question was running around in her mind, and she could find no answer. He was waiting.

"Why are you here...on my bed?"

Silence.

Hope began to fill her heart once more. She could not make out his face in the night and it drove her mad. She would give anything to know his thoughts, or at least have a hint at his feelings.

He made a step in her direction, and she backed away, less he get too close again and cause her to betray her feelings once more.

"I wanted to ask how you had arrived at Orthanc all those months ago."

She had expected the question to come, but not from him, and not in such a distant and emotionless tone. Like an interrogation. She raised her arms across her chest in an attempt to shield herself from him.

"Leave." she whispered, too quiet for anyone to hear, but he heard.

Without any further exchange, she watched him turn and leave her room. Her heart raced, she wanted to call him back, to tell him she had not meant it, but her lips refused to move. He quickly disappeared into the night, leaving her standing alone in the cold.

For a long time she did not sleep. And when she finally did succumb to her exhaustion, it was to find troubling dreams. She awoke in the early hours of the day, drenched in sweat and entangled in her sheets. Realizing that she was starving, she headed down to the dinning hall. As she expected it was empty. She crossed the silent room and entered the kitchen. Three cooks were bustling around, preparing the first meal of the day. When she saw them Melina froze. She held her breath, waiting for them to see her, waiting to see pity and horror in their eyes. Everyone would treat her differently now...

"Good morning lady! What brings you here at such an hour?"

Nothing. Melina suddenly realized that, of course, no one that had not been present at the council would know! Well, at least not unless they were told by someone who had been present. The cook was still looking at her, his smile wavering slightly at her silent stare.

"Sorry! Yes, I mean...it is very early. But I not had dinner yesterday night, I mean evening," she groaned.

The cook chuckled.

"'Tis no problem. Please sit, I will bring you something to eat."

"Thank you," she murmured and moved to the indicated stool.

As she sat there waiting for her breakfast to be served, Melina noticed a few travelling bags opened in front of her. In them she noticed some of the golden brown bread that she had once found during a midnight raid of the kitchen. Her stomach growled loudly and her mouth watered at the sight. She was debating whether or not to take one when the cook returned.

"Here you are my lady, I dare say you will find this much more appetizing than lembas bread!" he chuckled.

"Lembas?"

He picked up one of the pieces from the closest travelling bag.

"These are called Lembas bread. They are specially made to sustain travellers on long journeys when other foods are hard to find," he looked at the bread, then at her and frowned. "You would not have happened to eat one of these a few weeks ago? A piece inexplicably went missing from our stores."

Melina blushed brightly and even before she could think about denying it, the cook said in a more serious tone:

"'Tis no matter. But please, abstain yourself from them in the future. They are not meant for the race of men."

He carefully stowed the bread away once more. She certainly did not understand the fuss about the bread, but she had been caught "stealing" and so apologized and promised not to touch them again. As the cook was about to return to his morning activities, Melina remembered to thank him.

"Oh, thank you, for breakfast, ermm..."

"Curuon."

"Thank you, Curuon."

He nodded and turned away.

Melina left the kitchen as soon as she was done, thanking Curuon and the other chefs as she did. She wanted to escape the breakfast crowd before they appeared, and she breathed a sigh of relief when entering the dinning room. Hardly anyone had arrived, and those that had did not know her well enough to give her anything more than a smile as greeting.

Once outside she headed for her bedchambers in the hope that Serien might appear. She needed to talk to someone and she was the closest friend she had. She also felt ashamed of the way she had treated her the day prior and wanted to maybe try and explain the reason behind her anger. But Serien was not there. Melina waited for an hour, occupying herself by writing a few lines of gibberish in her journal, then finally gave up.

She could have gone to the dinning hall, she knew Serien almost always had breakfast, but she did not want to risk meeting Glorfindel. She was still both too angry and too hurt to face him now without breaking down...or hitting him. She was not quite sure which might happen.

Finally admitting to herself that Serien had the right to be angry with her and probably did not wish to see her, Melina left her chambers. As always when she had no real destination in mind, she quickly arrived at the Luthien garden. It was thankfully empty, as usual, and she sat down behind the statue, on a bench not easily seen from the corridor passing by.

The sounds in the house seemed to have change recently. The birds and the singers were still present, but once in a while loud boisterous voices would erupt from various rooms. Rough voices, not the soothing musical laughter of the Eldars. Voices of mortals.

She sighed loudly.

"Melina?"

The voice made her jump. She held her breath for a moment, not certain if she wanted to be found. But before she could reply or think about running away, Serien's friendly face appeared around the statue.

"I thought I heard you."

Melina smiled weakly. She wanted to apologize and invite her friend to sit with her, but she had very little practice with such things. She could practically count on the fingers of one hand how many people had ever heard her apologize.

Perhaps sensing her discomfort, Serien spoke first.

"May I sit down?"

"Yes. Please!"

Melina scooted over and was silent once more. She hoped that Serien would fill the void once more, but her friend said nothing.

"Serien, about yesterday. I am sorry I was rude."

Her friend turned to her with a bright smile.

"It is already forgotten Melina. I want to apologize as well."

"Why?"

"I am not accustomed to being around someone who knows so very little about...everything. Who and what we are is no secret. I assumed that everyone knew about the Eldar. I did not mean to hurt you."

Melina looked away in an attempt to hide her tears. It was not Serien's apology, as much as everything else that had happened yesterday that caused her sorrow. And though her friend had meant for her words to be soothing, they twisted a knife deep into the wound of Melina's soul. She knew so very little...she knew nothing. She was learning as fast as she could, and still it seemed that it was never enough.

Then there was Glorfindel...how powerful she thought her emotions toward him were, yet he too was a mystery. Aside from his name, what did she truly know of the man?

A sob escaped her lips and Serien placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Now I have made you cry again. Melina, speak to me. What troubles you so?"

For a split second Melina was about to say everything. To talk about where she came from, what had happened to her, and most importantly, she wanted to tell Serien about Glorfindel. How she felt toward him, how humiliated she had felt last night and how angry she was with him, but with herself mostly. She wanted to ask for her advice, for her support.

But as soon as her mouth opened, she stopped. And instead of the words she truly wanted to speak, she asked:

"Tell me, Serien. Tell me the story of Luthien, please."

Her friend seemed visibly pained at the change of topic. Melina too, hurt. She wished she had the courage to open herself to Serien, but even though she loved her friend, she feared rejection.

After a moment Serien began to speak.

"Well, as I said before, Luthien was the fairest of our people. One day while she was taking a walk in the woods, she..."

Melina listened to the tale, and as the sun rose higher, her tears dried. On and on Serien spoke, and many a times Melina had to stop her and ask questions. Even then, she did not understand many parts of the story, but she was enthralled nonetheless. She wondered if the tale could really be true, but Serien swore to it.

Melina felt a strange shiver run down her spine when Serien spoke of the Halls of Mandos. And even before her friend explained the Halls in details, Melina had a clear image in her head. Her mental rendering was so detailed that she could have sworn she had been standing there at that moment. The vision quickly passed, though it left her with a sense of longing.

When she was finished Serien abruptly stood up and looked down at Melina.

"Come. The tale of Luthien is not the merriest of stories, but because you asked, I have recited it. But you are in need of happiness, not tragic endings."

Melina looked up slightly confused.

"It was not tragic. Not really...they lived together."

"And died."

"Serien. Death is not so bad when you spend the time with someone you love."

The words had come out, playfully, teasing. But as Serien took a moment to contemplate this answer, Melina could not believe she had spoken it. She had feared death her entire life. She had seen too much death in her youth, pointless, ridiculous death. After the war she had locked herself up, body and soul, and had hoped death would pass her by. It had not, of course. And yet she was here, alive.

"Maybe you are right, Melina. But though the ending may have been a happy one for the couple, my people cannot hide the pain they feel on loosing their most precious daughter. It is as if a star had be stolen from the world."

Melina smiled. She thought the Eldar were often a bit too melodramatic, but it was one of their very endearing traits.

"I understand," she said after a moment. "Did Luthien have any children?"

Serien sighed and sat down again.

"She bore one son only. Who again had three children, one of which was the mother of Elrond."

"And Arwen?"

"Is the daughter of Elrond."

Melina would never in a million years have guessed that Elrond could be so much older than Arwen to be her father. It was unimaginable, mind-boggling really. She suddenly wondered how old Glorfindel could be...but dared not ask such a direct question.

"Yesterday at council. There was two men. They look the same, and also like Elrond and Arwen."

"Elrohir and Elladan, twin sons of Elrond. They only recently returned to the house, which is why you had not met them before."

"Are everyone here related?" she asked sarcastically.

Serien chuckled.

"No, not at all. Many are the last remainders of their entire family."

"Oh, I am sorry..."

"No, no. Nothing like that Melina, well, not for everyone. Many of our people have departed this world and returned to the undying lands."

She shook her head to indicate that she had no idea what Serien meant.

"The undying land is where the ones who created this world live, and where my people can spend the rest of the time this world has. It is said to be a beautiful place, restful and serene. Where the sea is the purest blue, and the fields..."

"Look like gold."

"Yes..."

Serien turned to Melina, confused. Melina herself had no idea where the words had come from, she tried to think quickly of a way to explain her knowledge."

"Bilbo," she blurted out. "I think he talk of this..."

It was a lie, at least as far as she knew. It was entirely possible that the old hobbit has spoken of this undying land, but if he had, she had not understood him. Serien seemed to accept this explanation however and smiled.

For a moment they were both silent. Finally Melina could not hold it in anymore. Thoughts of tonight's dinner came to her mind, and the prospect of sitting next to Glorfindel petrified her. She decided to ease into the conversation.

"Did you see Glorfindel today?"

"No, I believe he left earlier this morning on a scouting mission. He is not expected to return for a few weeks."

An initial wave of relief washed over her, followed by nervous curiosity.

"Where is he gone"

Serien shook her head.

"I was not privy to that information. But a few more scouts have left Rivendell as well. It must have something to do with the council."

"I see..."

This at least meant that she could postpone worrying about how her next meeting with the golden Eldar would go, but it hurt her deeply to know that he had left without saying goodbye. Or had he been in her chambers last night for that very reason? And she had ruined his friendly goodbye by reading too much into his presence? Melina groaned and covered her face with both hands, besides her Serien leaned closer and placed a delicate hand on her shoulder.

"Melina, it will do you no good to keep your troubles inside. Please, tell me what is bothering you."

"I...it is complicated," she mumbled against her palms.

"Most things are."

She let her hands fall heavily against her legs. She was old enough to know how complicated life could get, and should have been old enough to see the hopelessness of her situation – but love blinds all.

"Glorfindel was in my room last night."

Serien's retracted her hand quickly.

"Why?"

Melina shrugged and felt tears coming to her eyes again.

" He said, when leaving, that he wanted to ask me how I arrive in Orthanc, but I think that is not true...he was..."

"Stop. Melina," Serien said in a barely audible whisper. "Is this what you were asked to attend the council for?"

She nodded and sniffed.

"Remember that what happened at the council is not to be spoken about unless it be with other members."

Melina looked at Serien through blurry eyes, was this all her friend could offer?

"Does this have anything to do with...these scars?"

"Yes," she said softly.

Her friend reached over once again and took one of Melina's hand in her own.

"This happened in Orthanc?" her voice wavered slightly as she reached out with her other hand and traced one of the scars on Melina's face.

She simply nodded a second time.

"Oh Melina."

In an instant she was in Serien's tight embrace. The touch was welcomed, but it was not at all what Melina had been looking for. She had had weeks to deal with the events in Orthanc, and although speaking about it had been hard, she now felt it paled in comparison to her problems with Glorfindel now.

After a few seconds Serien backed away.

"May I ask, as Glorfindel did, the reason you were in Orthanc?"

"I do not know...Serien, please, it is not important. This is not the problem."

Her friend nodded and did not press the matter.

"I do not understand what bothers you then, this is about Glorfindel?"

"Serien..." she looked at her friend weakly, unable to put emotions into word. She could not use the words required.

She heard a soft gasp and suddenly Serien grabbed both of her hands firmly.

"Do not put yourself through this Melina! Oh how could I have been so blind. First your reaction to the knowledge of our immortality, and today your interest in Luthien's story. I beg of you, forget any feelings you might have for Lord Glorfindel. I know he has shown you friendship, but to think he would take it any further is folly."

Melina tried to rip her hands free, but her friend held on with frightening strength.

"Melina you have to believe me, I do not say this to hurt or pain you in any way. I only want to save you from the inevitable heartbreak that awaits you if you pursue this."

Fresh tears streamed down her cheeks as she stared into her friend's eyes.

"Promise me that you will not try to take your relationship beyond that of friendship."

"I cannot promise that!" her voice cracked, she was being loud.

She struggled harder against Serien.

"Then promise me that you will at least consider what I said and think about the dire consequences of your choice!"

"You mean death."

She stopped trying to get away. Though distant she could have sworn that she heard the shrill of a seagull, and her nose was suddenly filled with the sting of salt. She breathed in deeply and closed her eyes to better enjoy the feeling of the waves lapping at her feet. She was barely aware of a voice that sounded exactly like hers speaking in something that sounded very similar to Sindarin, and yet was not.

"You do not care of my feelings, of my life, because my life will end. Someone like Glorfindel though, like yourself, you believe that you are more iportant because you are immortal. You are wrong to underestimate the strength of human love Serien, wrong to dismiss the choice of death as a terrible tragedy when it means to die with the one person who was you entire reason to live."

The waves receded, the smell of wood and autumn returned, and she felt as though she was falling, air rushing at her face. Searing pain her skull; she opened her eyes to find herself on the ground next to the statue.

"Ow..."

She pushed herself up slowly, once on her knees she reached up to her forehead and winced. On her fingers she saw blood. She turned her head and looked at Serien with a frown.

"You push me?"

Her friend did not answer. Her mouth was opened slightly, and her eyes wide. Melina's frown deepened. She stood up and dusted her dress. She looked at Luthien for a moment.

"I promise Serien."

She heard shuffling behind her, a second later Serien was standing besides her. She was not smiling, but at least she had closed her mouth.

"I learn one thing from you, and think to know you better; before being served with an entirely new level of mystery."

"I do not understand..."

"No, I imagine you do not. I cannot fathom what a life it must be, to know nothing and yet feel as if you should."

"How do you know this?" Melina turned toward her friend, hope in her heart.

"I may not look it Melina, but I quite old. One acquires a certain amount of knowledge during such a lifetime, but I am afraid that I am of no help to you. You will get answers, in time." Melina opened her mouth, "No, do not ask for I do not have the answers you need. I will tell you this, you should maybe ask Glorfindel to teach you Quenya."

"Quenya?"

"It is the original language of our people."

"Not another language Serien, one is hard enough."

"Oh I think you would take very well to it."

She smirked and Melina frowned. She felt as if she was missing something, but could not think what it could be.

"Come, let us get change your thoughts."

Melina took the offered hands and together they walked through the house and over to Arwen's garden. There, amid smiles, chatter, songs and embroidery, Melina was able to momentarily forget about her troubles. No one here had been had the council, no one cared of her relationships.

She remained with the women through lunch and most of the afternoon. In fact she only left with Serien to get ready for dinner. It felt strange to walk into the dinning hall and not see Glorfindel's smiling face in the seat next to hers. Instead, it was occupied today by a man she vaguely remembered seeing at the council and once more before that when she had been taking care of Frodo – Aragorn she recalled.

As Serien left her to reach her own seat, Melina's breathing quickened. They knew now. Every single person sitting next to her now knew what had happened. Would Legolas still play tricks and joke with her? Would Elrond still remain slightly aloof while still occasionally granting her an affectionate smile? Would Gandalf mention the strange vision that she had experienced at the council?

These questions and more ran rampage in her head as she approached her chair. Without Glorfindel present, and Legolas on the other side of the table, Melina reached out to pull it out herself, but Aragorn noticed her presence and jumped to his feet and silently pulled her chair.

"Thank you," she murmured and sat down quickly.

At first she kept her eyes glued to her plate, afraid of the looks she might see if she lifted her head. It was of course none other than Legolas who managed to snap her out of her shell.

"I will not even ask, for I can see clearly that tonight, my lady Melina, you will need wine."

She raised her eyes, and met his youthful, smiling face. She took the offered glass and smiled sweetly. She took a rather large sip of the sweet liquid, Legolas chuckled. Before she could have the chance to shrivel back in her chair and purposefully ignore everyone though, he pulled at his neighbour's sleeve and pointed at her.

"Elladan my friend, I do not believe you have had the pleasure of meeting the lady Melina personally. Melina, this is Elladan, the worst archer I have ever seen."

The dark haired elf bowed his head to her.

"It is an honour Melina. Unfortunately our friend may have drunk a cup too many already, my name is Elrohir at your service. And this, as you may have already guessed, is my brother, Elladan."

The identical copy of Elrohir turned and bowed his head as well.

"You do look very similar..." Legolas grumbled as he emptied his cup.

"It is very nice to meet you," Melina said with a smile. "And I will be judge on who is better archer," she turned to Legolas.

"Ah, the lady wishes a demonstration!"

"I would be more than willing to oblige."

"Perhaps at a date when the lives of those involved will no be threatened by the level of intoxication of the participants."

They turned to the lord Elrond simultaneously and Melina had to work hard to erase the smile on her face. But Elrond's lips soften into a smirk and he raised his glass in a silent toast. Legolas hurried to fill his cup once more before following the rest and lifting this glass.

Elrond then turned to Melina.

"It is good to see you at my table again tonight."

"Always a pleasure to be here my lord."

Her eyes wandered to Gandalf, sitting on the opposite side of the table next to Elrond. They exchanged a warm smile, but no words. They would speak later, of this she was certain.

The food was served not long after, and after eating to her satisfaction and drinking more wine than she probably should have, Melina looked for the water. She spotted the pitcher a way to her left, and patted Aragorn gently on the arm.

"Could you pass the wat...oh, wait. You do not understand me..." she bit her lip and was about to look around for help when Aragorn replied.

"I understand perfectly my lady."

"Ah, sorry. I thought...well...the other men, speak the other tongue."

"I speak both."

Melina now felt like an idiot.

"You wanted something, the water perhaps?"

"Yes, please."

He poured her a glass.

"Thank you. How do you know Sindarin?"

"I grew up here in Rivendell."

"I see," she frowned. "Are you an Eldar?"

Everyone around her, including Aragorn, burst out laughing.

"No I am not..."

"Though he might as well be!" Elladan said and Legolas chuckled.

"It would make him the hairiest Eldar I know,"

"Could it be jealousy I hear?" Aragorn passed a hand through the hair on his chin and smiled.

Melina watched the exchange between the men and grinned. The banter continued for the rest of the evening, though when the dancing started a new form of competition began. Legolas was on the floor first of course, which meant that Melina was dragged to her feet, willing or not, and twirled till her head was in the clouds.

The best dancer present, was Legolas' claim as he finished and bowed. This was followed by arguments, teasing, and to the dismay of Melina, more dancing. First with one twin, then the next, and finally Aragorn was convinced to participate. By the end of it she was not quite sure which way was up and when she was asked to judge her partners and declare the best, she said that none could dance like Gandalf.

The entire room erupted in laughter, as Gandalf might very well be the worst dancer alive. Which he promptly demonstrated by launching into a preposterous series of movements.

The night continued on for hours, and probably longer, but Melina was one of the first to leave. She would have loved to keep watching the merriment, but she had started falling asleep standing. It had happened so often that as soon as she left the hall, she stopped and waited. After a moment a figure untangled itself from the crowd and came out to meet her.

"Shall I accompany you to your room?"

She smiled up at Gandalf and stepped closer to him, slipping her arm in his. They walked slowly, she leaning heavily against his bulky frame and he humming one of the songs that had been played that night. When they arrived in her room Gandalf took a step back and looked at her.

"How are you feeling Melina?"

"Good. Better, maybe. I had a dream Gandalf, at the council. When you talk about Orthanc, I saw you...and me."

"I am glad you did. Though it was none of my doing. I hope you understand why I wanted you with me."

"I think so. Serien help me understand."

Gandalf nodded.

"She is a good friend, you are lucky Melina."

"I know."

"Well then, I bid you good night," he leaned over and kissed her forehead gently.

"Good night."

She watched him turn and leave, but before he was out of her room, she remembered a question she had been meaning to ask.

"Gandalf. Do you think is tragic to die, for love? I mean, to choose to not live forever because you love a mortal."

He smiled.

"Love is the very best reason to do anything. Luthien chose wisely."

She grinned.

"Good night then."

"Sweet dreams, Melina."