Summary: While she heals in the gardens of Lorien, Celebrian encounters an unexpected visitor.

"Daernana will take care of you, my darling." The voice floated above her as she rested in the gardens of Lorien, in the place where those who needed healing and repose dwelt. Loriennildi and Estenduri alike tended to her, though Baraves remained her main caregiver. Slowly but surely, the Lady of Imladris regained her strength.

 It could have been weeks, months, coronari; time flowed slowly in Lorien in the West, even as it had in her home in Middle-Earth. Lothlorien was but a shallow copy, a pale echo of the realm she now occupied, and Celebrian could truly not discern how long she had remained within its borders. Baraves had left her to her rest for a time, when one of the Maiar of Irmo appeared before her, the scent of rosemary filling Celebrian's pavilion as the Maia crossed to her sleeping couch.

"Greetings to you, Child. My name is Melyanna of the People of Irmo." Celebrian's mind whirled as she realised the implications of that statement.

"M-Melian...Bereth Melian?" She sat up and blinked slowly, trying not to stare at the Maia, who was not garbed in the usual tabard of Irmo's People.

Melyanna's hair hung in gentle waves over her shoulders and down her back to below her waist. It was not black, for that is too small a word; it was the deepest and darkest depths of a midnight sky, and the moonstones strung through it were the stars. Her raiment was a stunning snowy gown layered in delicate satin and decorated with pearls, whilst a white and gold beaded belt hung loosely upon her slim waist. Unshod were her feet, and the jewels she wore upon her fingers and around her elegant neck were dazzling diamonds.

"I have not been acting Queen for a long time, child," Melian said, "though I arrayed myself as such today, and they are still my husband's people."

"And yours, with the greatest respect, my Lady," Celebrian said, though there was a note of stubbornness and even reproof in her tone. "Why did you leave them?" Her tone was laden with belligerence, and Melian shook her head slowly.

"That does not sound particularly respectful, Celebrian," Melian observed, though she did not sound particularly disapproving. Celebrian's cheeks flushed, but she held her head up proudly, staring up from her seat on the sleeping couch. "Well...fine then, it isn't," Celebrian conceded, but she did not sound particularly sorry.

"It was not respectful, no, Child," Melian replied, and she locked her steady gaze on Celebrian. Though Melian had clothed herself in form not unlike an Elf's, there was something in her gaze which spoke of a time more ancient than even the eldest of the Firstborn could appreciate; laden with sympathy, sorrow, and wisdom of Ages uncounted.

"It was not respectful, but it was quite understandable. Tell me, best beloved. Why did you leave?" Melian asked, taking Celebrian's hands in her own. Celebrian squirmed under the Maia's unwavering gaze, unable to avert her eyes and feeling like an elfling of ten.

"I hurt too much to stay," she whispered. "I was losing them. My husband, my children...it hurt too much. I was dying...I would have died if I had not gone..."

Melian lifted Celebrian from the couch and wrapped Celebrian in her embrace. "There now, best beloved. I am not angry. But do you see, then? I, too, was a wife and mother. My husband and children had gone before me. Some no doubt think me a fool, heartless or careless to leave my husband's realm ungirded. Yet, it was not always protected so, and even the Girdle did not stop the children of Aule in their senseless slaughter, or the wolf Carcharoth in his thirst for blood."

Celebrian bowed her head in agreement, and rested her cheek against Melian's shoulder. "I am sorry, my Queen."

"Aunt Melian, if it pleases you, best beloved," Melian murmured. "Do not fear, I am not angry." Celebrian nodded.

"Thank you...Aunt Melian." She stayed in Melian's arms, reassured, and sleep claimed her once more.