Day 16: Something that makes you weep tears unnumbered

Melian.

Most of my favorite characters have something make their stories turn out well enough, in the end, once they sail. And then there's Melian.

She lost Lúthien. ("and no grief of loss has been heavier than the grief of Melian the Maia in that hour.") We never hear about Thingol being reembodied. All elves are, eventually, (save Feänor) but Melian goes and spends years in Valinor "musing on her sorrows" so it seems Thingol isn't reembodied quickly, in any case. Which, I know he didn't die doing anything particularly noble like the others reembodied quickly, and he was surely prideful, but he was married to Melian for goodness sake. The Valar would stop their work and listen to song because it was so beautiful, couldn't she have asked for Thingol's re-embodiment quickly?

I should probably give some background on my headcanons on the Halls of Mandos.

I imagine that death among the Eldar (more so than men who seem to be released, to go to wherever men go, much quicker than elves are released,) is a hard experience for them to go through; the shock of death is such a challenge.

I think that is why, for example, Finrod is reembodied so quickly. It wasn't a shock for him, he knew it was going to happen and he was able to return quickly to life, because he required less healing. Same with Glorfindel. They were prepared for death, unlike Thingol, who probably thought the power of Melian's and his own wisdom would protect him through however many ages Elves remained in Middle-earth.

(I'm sure a lot of soldiers in the wars were prepared for death, but perhaps fighting in a battle and also having a part in a kinslaying extended your stay in Mandos? More to recover from?)

So I think Thingol is basically catatonic in this headcanon fic because he is still healing and needs it; his death was traumatic and unexpected. And he feels a lot of guilt over the manner of his death and the fact that he died at all.

It's almost cruel that Mandos and Yavanna put her through this but, then, Melian would have been more upset at why they wouldn't let her see Thingol at all if they never did

Also I always imagine Melian and Yavanna as very close. Melian was "most akin to Yavanna herself."

( meleth minai nîn = only love of mine.)

"Is there nothing you can do? I know you owe me nothing, but I must try to ask it of you." Melian tried not to sound harsh to Yavanna, but had she not been a loyal servant to Vána and Estë for countless years before her time in Middle-earth and many after? Had Yavanna not listened to her songs enough in these years past? Why wouldn't they help her?

"Melyanna." Yavanna said finally. "It is not our choice."

"Then can you not take me to Námo?"

"It is not his choice either." Yavanna told her softly.

"What does that mean?" Melian's hope faltered.

Yavanna let out a long sigh and beckoned Melian follow her, and she did.

Now they stood before Námo, who stared at her a long time saying nothing. He knew what she wanted before Melian or Yavanna had even made to speak, and so they never had.

"Death is not easy, especially for some. I offered Thingol re-embodiment as soon as you arrived back in Lorien. It is Thingol's decision to stay where he is, not mine, and I can not send him away against his will." Námo told her eventually, hardly a trace of care in his voice.

"No…" Melian shook her head, it could not be.

"See for yourself." A flash of anger momentarily passed over Námo. "I will allow you
to visit him once; that I can do for you, but no more."

The Halls of Mandos were almost cozy, Melian thought with a shudder, gazing at the tapestries lining the walls as Námo led the way down a long hall.
When they reached a door near the end he opened it for her and stood back, closing it behind her once she was inside.

Her eyes adjusted to the darkness and took in the details in a moment. It was a comfortable chamber, almost precisely in the design that their chambers had been in Doriath, she realized with a pang. Despite the red tones on the walls and all the cloths, though, it had little warmth to it; it felt impersonalized, almost like a cell.
And sitting in the middle of the room in a wooden chair sat Thingol himself.
He had made no reaction when she walked in and he continued staring straight through her.

"Elu." She knelt in front of him and took his hands. They were cold as ice. "Thingol, please look at me."

He wouldn't.

"Come back with me, it has been long enough." Tears were running down her face now. "Elu, why will you not look at me?"

His expression remained blank and he stared past her, empty.

"Do not do this." She whispered, and hesitantly caressed his face. "I love you."

There was still no response, and the only sounds in the room were her choked out sobs.

"Please…" She begged him, and she tried turning his face so his gaze pointed towards hers. She watched…something, she did not know what emotion it was, cross his eyes momentarily, and then he tried to look away. She held his face between her hands, keeping him there, so he closed his eyes instead to avoid looking at her.

"No…" Melian dissolved to tears again.

"TALK TO ME!" She shouted with all the command of the power inside her, and his eyes sprung open and he did look at her. So he was in there somewhere.

"Come back with me." She repeated.

He turned his head away and faced the tapestry on his wall; it was of the Two Trees.
"I do not deserve to." The voice that left his lips sounded nothing like the one she knew and remembered, and as joyful as her heart felt for hearing him speak at last it also sorrowed at the sound of it. "I no longer deserve you."

So he blamed himself, was that it? He would not come back with her because he blamed himself for his own fate, and for the fall of his Kingdom.

"If anyone is to be held at fault it is the Valar for not taking action against Morgoth sooner, or Feänor for what he did, and Morgoth himself for what was all due to his own doing. Yet none of them sit as empty shells and sunder themselves by choice from those who love them! Come back to me."

He shook his head once and went back to staring.

"You have always been proud and now you are pretending to yourself that you have ruined your pride. Yet it is not ruined, it is more prevalent than ever; you are causing your own pain here because you will not let go of it!"

Nothing.

"For me, for any memories we have still of Lúthien, please, I beg you."

Still nothing.

"I do not blame you, not even for forsaking my counsel on the Silmaril. Your people never did. Even if I ever had I would forgive you anything." She tried that angle. "You do not belong here."

He blinked, but there was no response.

"You belong with me."

Melian could talk no longer, she was weeping too much to speak now.

He didn't look at her, he didn't comfort her, he didn't move at all.

Distantly she heard the door open behind her and she felt Yavanna trying to pull her away.

"No!" She wouldn't go. "I will stay here, leave me here!"

"You cannot." Yavanna told her mentally.

"Elu, Thingol, meleth minai nîn,please, let me take you, I can heal you, and we can get through this." She grabbed his cold hands tight in her warm ones again like she would never let go.

"Come, Melian, you can stay no longer." Yavanna told her more firmly now.

"He is not himself, I can help him…get Nienna; let her help him, please! I can not go back."

"You must." Námo was there too, pulling her hands away from Thingol's, and Yavanna led her out.

"Beloved…" She wanted to say something to him, one last thing, to tell him how much she loved him and needed him, anything that might get through to him. But she was unable to say or do anything but weep as she was led from the room.

One muscle twitched in his cheek and for a moment she struggled wildly against Yavanna's hold on her, thinking he might say something. But then his face was passive and blank again so Melian was sure she had imagined it, and the last thing she saw of Mandos before her tears blinded her and her elven form faded was the painfully empty stare on the face that had been her husband's.

Melian returned to dwell in Lórien, alone, as silent as the empty shell of Thingol she had met. Even the Valar could not count how much time passed before she spoke or sang again. The gardens around her were silent and thick with her sorrow, and even the birds no longer made any sound around her.

For quite some time even if any tried to visit her she would not go near them, not even Námo or Yavanna, who told her there may yet be hope for Thingol one day, and promised he would be released immediately if he ever wished it. Námo told her that some elves simply took longer to recover after the shock of death, the loss of life; that it was not so unusual.

But Melian could no longer hold to any hope. Her pain was too deep and she had nothing left. Once before she had felt a grief like this, when she had learned of the fate Lúthien chose for herself, but even then she had still had Thingol by her side. Now she would not see Lúthien again and she would not see Thingol again for so long it was not worth counting, even to a Maia. They both had chosen to be without her, and she was left alone, cursed to walk alone in the shadows of the trees for so many years left of time.

(Okay so when I wrote this originally I made myself so depressed over Melian that I just moped for like a day and a half until I finally gave in and wrote a happier-ending sequel, so you can read that here: allonsymiddleearth . tumblr post/59637574448/thingol-is-released-from-mandos-e ventually-not.)