The Wise and the Lovely by StarSpray

Chapter 1

Read Chapter 1

Melian knew even before she went to see her daughter that Lúthien was planning an escape from Hírilorn. She had known from the moment Elu ordered its construction, although he had been in such a temper that not even Melian could make him see reason. So she had let it go, knowing his anger was only a mask for fear, and that in the end it would make no difference.

Even so, she heard a flurry of activity before she entered the house, and found Lúthien just tucking away the last remnants of something dark. She also found her daughter with astonishingly short hair—shorter than it had been since she was only a small child, curling around her ears. The look in her eyes was defiant when she turned to Melian, but also a little fearful.

“Oh, Lúthien.” Melian held out her arms, and after the briefest hesitation, Lúthien stepped into her embrace, pressing her face into Melian’s shoulder, like she had as a child, before she grew old enough to brush off scraped knees and bruised shins.

Melian remembered well the first time Lúthien had come to her in tears from some hurt—a skinned knee, obtained on a pebbly portion of Esgalduin’s banks, when she had tripped during some game with Daeron. She had only just started walking rather than toddling, and sometimes it seemed she had been dancing even before that. But even Lúthien was not immune to slippery wet stones, and had come stumbling home with tears on her face, Daeron trailing along behind looking worried. Melian, even knowing it was not serious and that she would forget about it in a few hours, had been struck with fear, at the sight of blood on her daughter’s pale knees, dark in the starlight. But Elu had picked her up and wiped it away, smiling as he kissed away the tears.

Now Melian wished for the return of those days, when her biggest fears were such trivial things. Now far worse things prowled beneath the moon and walked beneath the sun, and she could no longer protect her daughter from them. She had tried to see where Lúthien’s path would lead her, but beyond stony mountains and shadowy woods, it faded into mist and gloom that even Melian’s arts could not pierce. But Lúthien was no longer a child still learning to run, she was a woman full grown in stature and nearly-so in power, and there was a Doom laid upon her that neither Melian nor Elu could lift. Such was the way the Music wound, though Elu did not want to listen.

As Lúthien drew back, Melian took a packet from her pocket. It contained lembas, a batch she had made that morning for this purpose. She had sung songs of keeping and of strength and of nurture into the dough. “There will be no moon tonight,” she said, as Lúthien took the packet, looking at its contents with surprise. “But the stars will be bright. May they always light your way, my daughter.”

Lúthien nodded, jaw set, the same way Elu’s did when he would not be swayed—although Melian would not make the comparison aloud, not now. “Thank you,” Lúthien said quietly. Melian drew her close again, and kissed her.

Lúthien’s disappearance was discovered the next morning, many hours too late for any to give chase, even if she had left a trail to follow. Elu raged, but it was short-lived, giving way swiftly to tears. Melian was silent, her won tears hidden behind the shadows of her hair.