Betrayed by LadySternchen

Doomed

I borrowed Melian's words from the Book of Lost Tales II here...

Prompt #4, Medium:
Killing Me Strangely. Most causes of death are frankly boring—but never in mystery novels! Apply this concept by choosing a detail (large or small) from your fanwork and changing it into something unexpected. Once you decide on the detail you plan to change, you can open the next prompt. (Note that you don't have to have actually changed anything yet!)

Lúthien was at a loss of what to say. She stood beside her mother, who sat by the roots of a tall beech-tree, her arms wrapped around her knees, and wept. Seldom before had she seen Melian cry, but not knowing why her mother was so upset was even more alien to her than her tears. True, Lúthien thought, while she gently stroked Melian’s back, she had not spared her family much thought since Beren had left Menegroth, but every time she had actually talked to her mother -mostly to ask her if Beren was in any danger- she had seemed just fine.
“Please, Nana, tell me what’s bothering you. I’m getting scared.”
But Melian only shook her head, wiping her eyes on her dress.
“Beren’s fine for now, Lúthien. No need to be scared, as I told you.”
Lúthien winced- she had indeed first been scared that her mother had foreseen Beren’s death and was so upset because she knew what that would mean for herself, Lúthien. Only now that Melian had done naught but reassure her that all was yet well did she realise how disgustingly selfish that thought had been. She resumed the stroking of Melian’s back, still very ashamed of herself, but more determined than ever now to find out what ailed her mother, and help her if she could.
“You did, and I am deeply thankful for that. But I’m not worrying about Beren at the moment, I’m worrying about you. Will you not tell me what makes you so sad?”
Melian did not answer straight away, but let her gaze roam over the woody glen, stretching out her fingers to let one of her birds hop onto it.
“You know… you’re not the only one who fears for their beloved.” she said finally, her voice still thick with tears. Lúthien felt herself tense both in a fit of anger and bewilderment. Still she kept her voice even and compassionate for Melian’s sake, determined to help her, not make her sorrow worse.
“What do you mean?”
Melian again took her time in answering.
“I know that you are angry with your father, and rightly so. I am, too. I would love to say ‘I don’t know what got into him’, but the problem is, I do. I know how terribly he fears losing you…”
“Well…” Lúthien interrupted heatedly, unable to keep her temper “… why did he hurt me so, then?”
“He did not mean to. But he was so frightened that he saw nothing else, no consequences. And that’s…” Tears again began to roll down Melian’s cheeks “… that’s exactly what troubles me so. Do you understand what he did? Have you listened to Galadriel? Ah Lúthien, I fear so much for Elu and our people. Much I have done to protect this realm, to  above all else protect you and your father, but it seems that all that was vain. I cannot protect you against the perils of your love, but Elu, at least… oh, should I lose him, nothing would ever seem good nor fair to me again on either side of the sea.”
Lúthien knew not whether she had ever head Melian fretting over anything like that and was not at all sure if her mother was actually still talking to her.
“Have you told him that?” she asked carefully.
“No. That is it- I’m still so very angry at him that I just cannot bring myself to. It was that thought that brought me to tears in the first place… that doom might befall Doriath and we had never laid aside our quarrels. And make no mistake, just because I see your love to Beren differently from your father, I am by no means less worried about you, either.”
Melian’s words deeply touched Lúthien’s heart, leaving her lost for anything to say. She was, as Melian had said, so very angry with her father that she did not even mind the idea of him falling under the Doom of the Noldor, but she knew in her heart that she did care nonetheless, just like she still deeply loved Daeron, who was her best friend and who had acted out of love to her, just like her father. In her wrath, Lúthien had accused them both of darker motives, of Daeron betraying her to her father because he thought he might then win her hand, and of her father selling her for gems. Neither was true, she well knew. Both had feared for her safety. Fools. Fools, all fools, her Beren not less. How could he still think of recovering a Silmaril? She would have expected him to have seen sense by now, but apparently, he had not. Yet still, she too delayed leaving Doriath to seek him out and convince him that that stubborn fool she called her father had not truly meant him to go gem-hunting, that he had just wanted Beren to be gone for good. Did she, deep down, want Beren to have a try? But no, that question she was able to answer at once. She most certainly did not want him to get himself into any danger, nor did she want her family and people to have anything to do with the curse of the Ñoldor. Somehow, anyhow, she needed to put everything right again.