A Deed Unforgiven by LadySternchen  

Chapter 10- Melian

To avoid confusion, I'm going with that idea from the HoME here that Melian was the leader of the Istari, and that they were sent first to Middle-Earth to guide the Firstborns.

She had forgotten, in the long Ages since she had last stood in this spot, that the floor of the Máhanaxar was made of soft white sand. It had been so very different, then, the light of Laurelin bathing the circle in its golden light, and above all the feeling of eager excitement, the promise of an adventure. Melian had felt so hopeful, so eager to go on their errand, to walk the shadowy woods of Middle-Earth, to see for herself the Children that were to come, to guide -she refrained from calling it boss-around now- her five companions. They had been just as excited as she was, each for their own reasons. She had joked, then, about keeping a close eye on Olórin, so that he would not steal a handful of the Children for his own keeping, given how he had been hopelessly in love with them even before their Awakening, before anyone had ever seen them. He had been unable to talk about anything else.

Melian wanted to cry and laugh in equal measure at that thought now, even while she sank to one knee before the Valar. It had worked out just so differently from how they had envisioned it at first, their mission made void by Oromë discovering the Quendi first, and by the summons the Valar had issued to the Elves, calling them to Aman. Her companions, Alatar and Pallando, Curumo and Aiwendil and finally even Olórin had eventually returned to Valinor likewise, while she had.…not. It was a mark of their friendship and Olórin’s compassion that he refrained from teasing Melian now, that it had been she who had nicked the elf in the end, and all his people with him. And it was hilarious, there was no denying it, only just now, with the grief of being sundered from her husband so raw in her heart, Melian could not bring herself to jesting about their first meeting. Maybe she would laugh with Olórin about it one day. Maybe they both would one day laugh with Olórin. Maybe one day, it would be alright.

She dug her bare toes into the sand, doing everything to mentally steady herself, not to let her tears spill, but of course it was no use. She may appear in the same form as she had in Middle-Earth, but now her body was not truly hers anymore. Her physical form was nothing but garment now, as it was for all the Ainur when they appeared before the Children, which made any attempt to use sensory stimuli to calm herself utterly useless. Would that change again, Melian wondered, once Elu was returned to his body and they at last reunited? Would she then feel whole again?

“Rise, Melyanna. You need not come before us like a wrongdoer, as you were but an instrument of Father’s will, and subject to your love.”

Manwë’s voice was gentle as ever, and when she at last dared to raise her head and look him in the eyes she saw nothing but pity there. Varda wore the same sympathetic expression, while Námo looked appraisingly at her, so as to silently dare her to meddle with his doings around the Fëar of the Firstborn. But that was not her purpose anyway. She knew him well enough to understand that pleading for mercy was of no use, however much she longed to succumb to her grief and longing and ask for her husband back.

“It relieves me greatly to learn of your approval, but I have not come hither to ask forgiveness. I am here to beg you to help those who have called me their queen, and all their kinsfolk likewise. Melkor lays waste to the fair lands of Beleriand, he kills and tortures, he…”

Melian broke off, fighting in vain to keep the memories of Círdan telling her of her husband’s final moments out of her mind. She therefore turned desperately to Námo, tears at last cascading down her cheeks.

“You know, lord, what he and his servants did to my husband, and I very much doubt that he was the only one. You cannot leave all the Elves of Ennor to be at Melkor’s mercy, for he has none.”

“It was for this reason that we called all the Quendi to Aman. Those who refused our call…”

“But they did not refuse out of spite or disrespect, Sire. They loved the lands of their birth, or were frightened of going on so long a journey. This does not make their lives worth less than those of their kin who followed your summons. And my people…” Melian sank to her knee once more “…stayed behind out of love and loyalty for their lord. I am responsible for that, none other, and I beg you to aid me now in helping them. To let not my unintended disobedience seal their doom. 
And that is not even to speak of those who returned to Ennor in chase of Melkor, or the Secondborn that are yet to come, or mayhaps have come since I left Beleriand. And the Children of Aulë, strong and steadfast though they be, will not withstand Melkor’s wrath forever, either. Were we not sent to Arda to protect them, to make a home for them in which they can prosper? We cannot now hide behind the Pelóri to let them die and suffer. Please!”

“This, Melyanna, is not your call to make, nor does it lie within your ability to command such a war.” said Irmo gravely.

Melian winced, recognising that she was not being scolded by her former lord, but that he had rather expressed his sorrow for her plight. And for some inexplicable reason, that pity was harder to bear than scorn.

“I am aware of that. It is for this reason that I plead with you to harken to my words. Or else give me leave to travel to Ennor once more. It might well be my downfall, I may be no more than an irksome fly to Melkor, and be swatted by him just as effortlessly, but I have kin still in Ennor who are subjects to his cruelty. My daughter… my child that I cherish above all else, but also my brother- and sister-in-law. I cannot stand idly by and watch them being tortured and killed!"

Silence followed her words, but she did not care. She had said it all, and now it was on the Valar to reach their verdict. Whether it were hours that went by with her kneeling before the Powers of Arda with her head bowed or indeed days, she could not tell. Time was of little relevance here in the Undying Lands. Her own thoughts wandered, to Elu and their first tentative kiss beneath her singing nightingales in Nan Elmoth, to their crowning, to nights spent entwined beneath the stars, or huddled under warm blankets while the snow fell softly outside, to stolen days in secluded clearings, to Lúthien and her coming into being, her first toddling steps, her laughter. Melian could still recall with ease the pride and love and affection she had felt whenever she had seen father and daughter arm in arm, her family, her everything. And then she thought of all the other people that had been part of that family, a family she strictly speaking never ought to have had. Of sitting laughing in a tree with Thônwen, of Elmo, of fair Beleriand itself, of all their people. She had loved them, had sought to protect them, had been one of them.
She had come back to Aman in despair, with her only goal that of aiding the restoring of her husband, and though that was still what she yearned for most, she also knew with utter certainty that were Elu here beside her now, he would want her to do everything in her power to make sure that Lúthien was safe, and Elmo, too. Or perhaps he would not, for he would be just as loathe to see her hurt as she was to know of his sufferings, but still he would never sit idly while their daughter was in danger.

Melian was so very absorbed in her own thoughts that she did not immediately notice the Valar rising to her feet. It was only as she sensed Varda kneeling down beside her that she raised her eyes to the Queen.

“It is not yet time for such a war Melyanna. Deeds are still to be done that must not be hindered by our meddling. But the end of Melkor’s rule is indeed neigh, and when we go to battle -as we will- we would be honoured to have you fighting among us.”

Melian nodded, slightly dazed. She could not altogether renounce the small twinge of disappointment she felt at the Queen’s words, but it was subtle enough to ignore it. That the Valar had agreed to fight Melkor openly, and allowed her to join them, was in truth more than she had dared to hope for.

“You need not be idle in the meantime, though, as I know what a torment that would mean to you. Much needs to be done in advance of a battle such as this. Go on your way, therefore, seek out your kinsmen in Alqualondë and Tirion, and tell them to muster their strength. The overthrowing of Melkor shall not be achieved unless we unite all the forces in Arda that are prepared to face him.”

Melian was already on her way to Olwë’s city when the realisation of what she was about to do truly hit her, and though she did not halt, the purpose of her errand far too important to allow her to tarry, it did slow her pace nonetheless. She sighed. Ever since her return to Aman, she had avoided searching out her brother-in-law, and that made the whole situation so much more uncomfortable -and very probably more complicated- now.

At first it had been just her grief that prevented her from talking to anybody safe her Lady Estë at all, the idea of coming face to face with her husband’s brother unthinkable. She had dreaded to see the similarities that were bound to be there, both to her husband and Galadhon as well. Everyone who had known both of them had always emphasised how much Galadhon resembled his uncle, and the prospect of seeing her nephews features in Olwë scared Melian. Galadhon, whom she had loved, whom she had mourned. His death would have been a tragedy unimaginable- had it not been so thoroughly eclipsed by the loss of her beloved.

Grief, however, had not been all that kept here from seeking out Olwë. Soon, guilt had slunk into her mourning. She feared facing Olwë, especially after learning of the kinslaying. Had it not been for her, he would not have had to leave both his brothers behind. Had it not been for her, Olwë would not have had to face Fëanor’s wrath alone. She wondered briefly whether Fëanor would have assailed the havens so easily had it been his father’s best friend who had reigned them. And Elu? Would he have found the words to cool the temper of Finwë’s son, because he knew the grief Fëanor felt for his father’s murder so well? Would he perhaps have given in, agreed to help the Noldor pursue Finwë’s murderer? But most likely, that kinslaying would have been just as terribly bloody, with the anger and resentment even graver for the fact that Elu and Finwë had been so close.

But she had to put all these musings and speculations to rest now. Just now, the only thing that mattered was to gather allies, and to punish Melkor as soon and heavily as possible. And for that, she needed her brother-in-law.