FicWad

This chapter is a little bit AU, perhaps, because in the Silmarillion it does not say how Melian departed to Valinor, or how long the journey took her. It says she flew there, but it also says that after Thingol's death she lost her powers for a while.
Also, I have altered the events that transpired in the Silmarillion to fit this story. Therefore, when Melian meets the young Fëanor, she has just left the service of the Vala Vana, and is on her way to Beleriand, where she will meet her future husband, Elwë Singollo.
Information is from P. 239 of the Silmarillion HarperCollins 2004 hardcover edition, from Chapter 22, "The Ruin of Doriath".


REMEMBRANCE OF THINGS PASSED


As she walked alone, in this, the Fourth Age of the world, Melian the Maia remembered many things. Sorrowful were her thoughts in the Gardens of Lorien on the Isle of Estë, and she remembered how she had met the young Fëanor, during the First Age, when the Trees of the Valar were still alive and in bloom, and he had not at that time come to the greatness that he had later achieved at the height of his power. Then she recalled how he had fallen from grace so utterly and completely.
She sighed with sadness at the memory of their single meeting, and then she smiled when she thought of the other.
She had met Elwë Singollo in the woods of Nan Elmoth when the stars were shining. As much an impossible thing it would seem, Elwë took Melian's hand in his, and from that moment stood with her for a number of years, simply holding her hand, while gazing deeply into her eyes, and the two did not even speak one word to each other during the years that passed as they stood still, there in the forest. Eventually the spell was broken, and Elwë and Melian became husband and wife, and together they set up a kingdom in Beleriand called Doriath.
At the end of the First Age of the Chaining of Melkor, a daughter was born to Thingol and Melian. The birth took place in the Forest of Neldoreth. At the baby Luthien's birth, came the first appearance of the white flower called Niphredil. Luthien, in later years, grew to be more beautiful than even her mother, with hair as raven-black as Melian's, and skin as radiant and white as the finest ocean pearls. Luthien had been born also with the power to sing songs by which she could cause people and creatures of all kinds to fall asleep under an enchantment, and while wielding this power, had been instrumental in reclaiming one of the Silmarils from Morgoth after he had stolen the jewels from Fëanor.
And as she continued to walk in Estë's gardens now, in this, the Fourth Age of the World, Melian remembered someone very special; someone not her husband.
After Thingol had been betrayed by his friends, the Dwarves of Belegost, who had killed him to gain possession of Nauglamir, the necklace of jewels containing the Silmaril, Melian, in the throes of her terrible grief over his death, stumbled and fell as she fled from her home toward the coast of Beleriand. At first she had intended to retreat toward Losgar and the Firth of Drengist. She had lost her powers temporarily and could not fly back to Valinor right away. Having taken the form of an Elf in order to marry Thingol, she had thus become bound to the land.
Close to faltering in her despair, she pressed slowly forward, not heeding her surroundings, but only keeping her ultimate goal in mind: to escape these lands of Beleriand which she felt had betrayed her, and return to the home which, in her grief, she wished she had never left.
She stumbled along, being drawn toward the Lake of Tarn Aeluin, whose waters she had once blessed during peaceful times. Longing grew great in her heart now for those days that had passed into the long night. At one point the sorrow overcame her and she collapsed to the ground, sobbing, her fragile form wracked by violent weeping. She succumbed to the grief and let it pour out of her, and afterwards, she lay still, and for a while, she was aware of nothing save her own sense of loss.
As she lay still upon the ground, an Elf-warrior hunting Orcs came upon her. Armed with a greatsword, he was looking for any of the enemy that may have been hiding within the forest. When he came across her body, thinking that she was a dead maiden, killed by Orcs or other fell creatures, he drew his sword, glancing about him in every direction for signs of the foe, but nothing except the silence of the forest greeted his ears.
Sheathing his sword, he bent over Melian's still form. Turning her over gently and laying her flat on the ground, he first beheld her face. Her eyes were closed, and she was as pale as the snow on the fields, and her hair was as black as the raven's wing. Her tiny frame felt almost too light when he lifted her up. He stroked her brow and felt her skin as soft as the petals of Niphredil in the morning. He was struck by her exquisite beauty.
He could feel with a curious sense of relief that she was not dead. Her breathing was shallow but he noticed the slight rise and fall of her chest under her cloak. One slender arm fell limply onto his right wrist, and the feel of it stirred him. He feared that she was either gravely ill or may have been wounded by Orcs whom he knew to be in the area. Fearing that Orcs may have defiled her and that she may succumb if he could not help her; he carried her to a safe place where he had made camp the night before.
Under a mound of earth, overhung with willow trees and vines, on the edge of a stream, was a small cave. The entrance was hidden from anyone's view, and the Elf-warrior felt they would be safe from discovery there for a time while he could look after the maiden. He cursed his bad luck to have burdened with this woman while he was in the midst of an Orc-hunt. Truly, conflicted feelings now coursed through him.
He roughly removed Melian's cloak in order to let her breathe more easily. Under it she wore a loose-fitting garment of a filmy material. He could see that it was transparent, and he flushed as he noticed that she wore no undergarments. "She has fled in her night dress", he thought in surprise. "What was it then that drove her into the woods in such a state?"
He laid her cloak down over her body, and chafed her arms, which were very cold. He ran his fingers over her face, which was too pale for his liking. She did not stir. He stared down at her and as he stared his posture relaxed and softened and a feeling of unusual tenderness began to grow in him.
He remembered that he carried with him an herbal elixir, a special cordial meant for reviving an unconscious person. He quickly rifled through his pack, and found the flask containing the precious liquid. He poured a tiny drop onto her lips, and carefully, gently, with his finger, guided it into her mouth. Her lips felt as soft as a new rosebud not yet opened. His heart fluttered as he was convinced this maiden was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.
The cordial seemed to help Melian. A tiny bit of colour came into her cheeks, and her eyes fluttered open. The light of the Valar had gone out of them for the present, and thus her rescuer did not recognize that she was Queen Melian of Doriath, but believed that he had found an Elf-maiden who had perhaps been defiled by Orcs who had left her for dead.
She looked up at her benefactor, and although she saw him, she did not realize who she was at that moment, where she came to be, or even how she got there. She saw only the face of the stranger, a hauntingly handsome face. A brief memory flickered across her mind in that moment. In her confusion, she thought she knew this Elf, and she saw that there was something very familiar about him.
"He is fair-haired but his face is like -" she thought, and then she fell into a deep sleep of exhaustion. She was utterly spent.
Her fair-haired Elven saviour hovered over her for some time. He had been concerned about her being close to death but he could see that she had responded well to the herbal drink, and he believed with much relief that she would eventually recover. He cursed the danger outside the cave that surrounded them, as he was aware that some fell events had occurred nearby, although he knew not yet what they were. He would have liked to have gone outside to check for Orcs or even patrols of Elven soldiers who could help them, but he was afraid to leave her alone lest she fall back into sickness. He could hear faint, intermittent sounds of activity coming from some distance away; shouting, running feet, heavy blows, shrieking; the sounds of battle. He was feeling guilt for lingering, though he found he could not tear himself away as he was the maiden's only protector.
After a time when he grew tired and he felt she was stable, he moved a short distance away from her, and lay down to rest. Though he tried mightily to erase from his mind the brief glimpse of her that he had before he covered her, he could not. Annoyed by the feelings that were aroused in him, he tried unsuccessfully to banish the lewd thoughts from his mind. He shifted uncomfortably as he lay thinking that he had no time for lusting after maidens, sick or not when he should be concerned with finding and killing Orcs, and he forced himself to try to sleep.
His mind drifted finally into sweet thoughts, much sweeter than thoughts of wars and killing and of the burden of Oaths sworn. He thought then of her bosom that he had glimpsed, so white beneath the filmy gown and the firm little mounds of her breasts, with nipples rosy and finely peaked.
The vision he had of them drove him to distraction. He shook his head and his hair, the colour of summer wheat, fell over his face. Brushing the bright hair away from his eyes, he turned to look at Melian again, giving up the fight to ignore her and the spark that she had ignited in him.
For an entire day, the two of them stayed as they were before Melian stirred. He had been watching her the whole time, and when he saw her move, he sprang forward. He grabbed the flask of liquid, and clambered to her side. As her eyes opened and she looked up at him, she smiled sadly, and the feeling in his heart lightened at the pain he saw there.
"Here, My Lady, please drink some of this", he whispered, his voice husky with emotion, and offered her a sip. To his delight, she raised her hand, and took the flask from him. She took a healthy mouthful this time of the cordial.
"It is good", she said, in a tiny voice.
He managed a smile for her and tears welled up in her eyes. She looked at him with great interest, and then a light of recognition sparked within her.
"Melethron", she said, and embraced him within her slender, delicate arms.
Shocked, he drew away. She had used a Sindarin word, the language despised by the Noldori. He realized that she was not well, and had mistaken him for someone she thought she knew.
"Do not leave me again, my love", she whispered, and drew him close in a fierce embrace. He was surprised by her strength, as it belied her delicate appearance. She held him tight, and did not let go.
"My Lady", he said, trying to free himself, "My Lady, you seem to have mistaken me for someone of your acquaintance. You and I have never met. I would have remembered it".
She held on more tightly, her arms around his neck, and did not seem to hear him.
He was afraid to move now, lest he upset her, so he lay down beside her, still within her embrace. "Curse the Valar that this should have happened to me now! I cannot stay here a moment longer! What am I going to do with this insane woman?"
That he was attracted to her was undeniable, and yet he struggled with his conflicted feelings.
For another day, the two stayed as they were. He fought mightily with his feelings of lust for her, and of wanting to abandon her and go to find his party of warriors who surely would be far from here by now. After a long time, her grip on his neck relaxed, as she fell again into a deep sleep. He managed to free himself, and headed for the entrance of the cave. He plunged outside into the cool night air and breathed deeply. He hoped to sniff the smoke of a nearby campfire but there was no sign of anyone in the area. Neither foul odour of Orcs, nor the scent of blood and steel met his nostrils. Rather, he smelled the sweet scent of blossoms of a kind he could not name, but which Melian had planted around the lake long ago and the fresh air of the nearby water soothed him. He softened and drew back inside the cave and once more took up watch beside her. Despite the fact they had been there for two days, he felt as if it had been a week or more in his impatience to leave. His thoughts, however, returned to Melian.
After a while, she awoke again. She looked at him, and burst into tears. She cried openly, deep sobs racking her body. Although he was losing patience with her he marched over to her, and gathered her tightly into his arms. She cried for hours, and then she stopped suddenly, her chest heaving. Her throat constricted and relaxed many times, until the sobs quieted. When she could find her voice, she looked at him, and whispered, "I am so sorry that I have kept you here".
She remembered that he had helped her. She knew she did not know him. She felt, though, that she had met him before. "You have been very kind to me", she said. "I owe you an explanation".
His heart sank in his chest from feelings of guilt and he swallowed hard as he looked at her face. "Have you been hurt by the enemy at all, My Lady?" He asked, thinking that he should be concerned for her well being.
"No, no, I have not been harmed. My husband was murdered", she explained haltingly. "And I fled from our home in my grief. I was overcome and I collapsed".
She then told him her story, of who she was, and who her husband had been, and how he had died. Her identity astonished the Elf warrior, and he was shocked but not unpleasantly, by what he had heard about the event of King Thingol's death.
They then talked for hours. He told her that his father had remembered meeting her once, when he was young, and had loved to tell his sons the story, but he would never tell them what he and Melian had talked about. She smiled at this.
"Your father had given me his word that he would not tell. I know now who you are", she said. "You are one of those who thought yourselves to be above all others and have committed fell deeds at the command of your father. But you have suffered much too, and it is my hope that you have changed your ways now that the world has entered grievous times".
She took his hands in hers, and held them, and then she did a surprising thing. All of a sudden, desire for this handsome fair-haired Elf flooded into her heart. She moaned softly, and drew closer to him, pressing her body firmly against his. They knelt together this way, holding each other, their hands desperately exploring and clutching at each other's bodies.
He was overcome with strange emotion. He felt his face flush with desire for her, yet he felt still the anger for having this lust for someone who should have been unattainable, as it were, and not interrupting his quest to destroy as many Orcs as possible.
"We should not do this", he murmured.
She drew back and looked into his eyes. She saw there an Elf of familiar beauty, with a fire glowing in his eyes. In his face she saw the depth of his soul; and she saw danger there. His future held death and fell deeds to be committed and was also tied to hers in some way that she could not see.
His fine features were as beautiful, she thought, as his father's, although not as dark, yet a fire burned in his blue eyes, touched with silver light. His hair with its golden waves cascaded about his face in a billow of colour that took her breath away.
"But I need you", she gasped. "Right now, I need you." She pressed against him firmly once more, as her hands clasped his face, and her lips closed over his. She wanted to devour him. Her need was driven by sorrow and the pain of loss.
His passion overcame him, and forgetting all about war and fighting for a moment, he was completely bewitched by her. He wanted her badly now. He shrugged off his outer clothing as quickly as he could and she gasped as she helped him remove his undergarments.
Continuing to catch her breath as her passion for him grew; she stopped briefly to look at his naked body in its perfection. His skin was a pale golden colour, lit by a few rays of the sun shining into the cave, and was alabaster-smooth. She saw that he was strong and hard-muscled, and his thighs were strong and hard. She glanced down at his loins, and with that, great desire for him overcame her.
"Oh, Eru Iluvatar, forgive me", she thought, and her hands claimed his manhood, in passionate, devouring strokes.
He groaned with pleasure and his hand sought her naked skin beneath her thin gown. He pulled the garment over her head and cast it aside. She pressed herself against him, her firm breasts against his stomach, and her abdomen against the hardness of him beneath it.
They fell forward together onto the ground, and under the spell of the deep passion that each felt for the other, they came together in a moment of bliss.
When they were fully spent, they lay in each other's arms for a long time and whispered loving words to each other. Then their passion overtook them anew, and they united again, and again, and again.
Another day passed. Finally, Melian's feelings seemed to change as her thoughts grew darker, and as suddenly as her passion and love for him had come, they waned, and she felt overcome with grief again for her husband. "This must be our one and only meeting", she said. "We cannot stay together. I must go back to the Blessed Realm and you must stay here where you belong".
He tried to hold her again, and comfort her, all desire for fighting gone for the time being, but she would not let him.
"We have to leave this place now", she said. "We are no longer safe here. I will go back to Aman where I will wander in my old home. What now will you do?"
He sighed. "I do not want you to leave". He asked with much regret. Then he said, "Do not go. Please. I love you".
She smiled. A sad expression was on her face. "In time, you will forget me. I will always remember you. You helped me in a time of great need. You do not know how much you have done for me".
He gazed at her sadly. "I love you more than anything", he said.
"Yes, I know", she said softly and with sorrow. "But it is only for the moment. Goodbye", she whispered, and quickly left him.
Then, Celegorm turned away, and, after picking up his belongings, he headed toward the woods of Doriath, his heart holding a heaviness at their parting, but already beginning to harden as thoughts of war again overtook him.