Chapter 12

After the feast, the days in Gondolin seemed to be filled with sweet honey. Finrod stayed, and his favorite place to linger was the vibrant gardens of Lóriendir. It seemed to be a place for his weary soul to rest, and a holy place for silent communication with Meereen.

The afternoon sun filtered through the vines, casting dappled shadows. Meereen, dressed in simple linen and barefoot, toiled intently among the flowers. He pruned branches and irrigated the fields. Where his fingertips brushed, the plants seemed infused with extra vitality: leaves grew greener, flowers blossomed more abundantly, and even the air was filled with a sweet, vibrant air. Finrod sat at a stone table by the pool, either mumbling from a scroll of ancient Quenya poetry or gently stroking his harp, which flowed out melodies as ethereal and melodious as a mountain stream.

No words were needed between the two; a glance, a smile, was enough to convey a tacit understanding and peace. Sometimes Glorfindel would bring his cheerful friend, Ecthelion, Lord of the Wells of Gondolin. Ecthelion's clear, bell-like voice would join Finrod's harp, while Glorfindel might play his flute or simply listen quietly. These impromptu trios or duets often attracted many passing elves to stop and lean against the pillars or sit on the grass in the distance, immersing themselves in the enchanting atmosphere created by this magical garden and the elven music.

Turgon also became a frequent visitor here. When the heavy workload made him frown, he would stroll to the garden in the east wing, sit on the familiar stone bench, watch Meereen work quietly, listen to Finrod's piano, or discuss the important matters of city defense with Glorfindel and Ecthelion. His tense nerves would slowly relax in the strange tranquility and vitality.

He sometimes brought Idril with him. Initially, Turgon was wary of Idril's frequent visits to Meereen, but Finrod's presence served as an invisible reassurance, and the widespread affection and praise of Meereen among the elves in the city gradually thawed the father's heart. More importantly, a moment of genuine affection from Idril completely shook him. One morning, Idril came to Turgon with red and swollen eyes, sobbing, saying she had been unable to sleep the previous night, tossing and turning, heartbroken over her mother, Elaynewe.

"But...but this afternoon, I was in the garden," Idril wiped her tears, her voice tinged with tears, "Meereen...he just sat beside me, not saying anything. But I felt...felt like I was lying on the sunny grass where my mother used to coax me to sleep, warm and safe...later...later I wasn't so sad anymore, and could fall asleep..." She raised her little face, tears still welling up in her eyes, but full of pleading: "Father, let me go to the garden, please. There...there I feel like my mother is still by my side..."

Turgon looked into his daughter's fragile, yearning eyes, and heard her mention Elaynewe, his hardened heart deeply touched. Hadn't he himself found long-lost peace and solace in this garden? The gathering of kin, Finrod's wisdom, and the strange tranquility brought by Meereen made this world seem isolated from the darkness outside, restoring the long-lost light and shadow of Aman. He could no longer refuse his daughter's request, so he could only sigh softly, embrace Idril in his arms, and tacitly grant her free access to the garden. From then on, Idril appeared at Meereen's side more frequently, sometimes asking curious questions, sometimes just sitting quietly beside him, drawing or reading, enjoying the warm, unspoken companionship.

One afternoon, the sun was shining brightly. Turgon was in the garden listening to a report from an elf in charge of agriculture. The elf's face was filled with uncontrollable joy: "Your Majesty, this year's harvest is incredible! The grains are so full that they bend the stalks. The orchards are full of fruits, attractive in color and juicy. Even the latest varieties are bearing fruit early. The livestock in the pastures are also exceptionally strong, and the survival rate of the cubs is twice that of previous years! It is as if Irmo himself has blessed our land!"

Turgon's majestic face also showed a hint of surprise and satisfaction. Although Gondolin was rich, such a comprehensive and unexpected harvest was rare.

At this moment, Idril, who had been quietly painting silver star flowers, raised her head and interrupted in a clear voice, "Father, I feel like this started after Meereen came!" She pointed to Meereen, who was carefully dividing a rare moon orchid. "It's not just the flowers in the garden, the trees in the city seem to be greener, the birds are singing more happily, and even the water in the fountains is clearer! Is it because of Meereen that all of Gondolin has become a better place?"

Turgon turned his gaze towards Meereen. He recalled the rapid transformation of the garden when he first arrived, the general feeling of well-being reported by the elves within, and the extraordinary abundance of the garden now. A vague but startling thought arose within him, and he glanced at Finrod, who sat beside him, smiling as he watched Idril speak.

"Finrod," Turgon asked inquiringly, "knowest thou anything?" He meant Meereen's invisible power to nourish all things.

Finrod set down the scroll, a knowing smile on his face, his golden hair gleaming in the sunlight. He gracefully took a sip from his teacup, his eyes gentle yet profound. "Turgon, all things have spirits, and spirits resonate with one another. Beautiful souls are like springs, their very presence nourishing those around them and awakening dormant life. This is not magic, but a resonance of nature." He deftly avoided a direct answer, affirming the positive impact of Meereen while retaining a sense of mystery, as if to say: What you feel is the best proof, no further explanation is needed.

Turgon looked at Finrod's knowing yet secretive smile and did not ask any more questions. The scrutiny in his eyes as he looked towards Meereen faded a little, and a deeper, indescribable complexity took on a new look.

Time flies, and the much-anticipated Summer Gate Festival of Gondolin is approaching. The first guest to arrive is Galadriel, Finrod's sister. Her arrival is like a clear and powerful light.

Finrod enthusiastically led his sister to the Gardens of Lóriendir and solemnly introduced Meereen.

"Meereen?" Galadriel's clear eyes fell on Meereen. When she heard the name, a very subtle, thoughtful expression flashed across her beautiful face. She nodded slightly.

However, when she met with Turgon and the others in the garden, the news she brought was like frost: "I bring news from Doriath. King Thingol has issued a new decree: No Men named Meereen may enter the Kingdom of Doriath. If they dare to enter, they will be imprisoned in the deepest dungeons of Doriath until the end of Arda."

The garden fell silent. Turgon frowned. The gentleness on Finrod's face faded, and his eyes burned with anger. Aretiel cried out in shock and rage, "Why?!"

Galadriel's eyes swept across the crowd, finally landing on Meereen's pale, but unusually calm face. Her voice was clear, with undisguised contempt for Eol:

"It all began with Eol, who came to Menegroth and met King Thingol himself. I have reliable information from the Sindarin kin that Eol's performance before the throne was a carefully choreographed dance of slander." She began to recount the details of the audience.

"Eol presented himself as a 'loyal subject exposing a threat.' He exaggerated to King Thingol the 'abnormalities' of Meereen—their unknown origins and strange powers, implying they were not bestowed by Ilúvatar and were of a disturbing nature. He then accused Meereen of deliberately approaching him, using feigned innocence to gain their trust, in reality intending to obtain information about the secrets of Nan Elmoth and even the defenses of Doriath. He also said that Finrod had been seduced by evil means and that Meereen was scheming deeply. Finally, he cast his most malicious speculation: suspecting that the source of Meereen's power was 'dark magic' and 'twisted immortality,' a 'curse upon the peace of Doriath.'"

"King Thingol already harbored a deep grudge against the Noldor and was extremely sensitive to the kingdom's safety. Eol's slander of the Noldor, his accusations of plotting against the secrets of Doriath and the power of darkness, struck him like a poisoned arrow. It is said that King Thingol was furious and slammed the table on the spot, denouncing Meereen as 'an alien race tainted and exploited by darkness' and 'the source of disaster.' He praised Eol's 'loyalty and vigilance' and immediately issued the severe decree."

"After Eol left, Queen Melian privately expressed her concerns to King Thingol. She reminded him that Finrod was renowned for his wisdom, and if Meereen was truly as deplorable as Eol had described, Finrod would never have associated with them. She suggested an investigation. However, King Thingol's wrath was already raging. He said, 'It is better to believe it than not, as the kingdom is in danger.' He flatly rejected Melian's advice. The decree had been issued and could not be altered."

As Galadriel finished relaying his story, the tension in the garden grew even greater. Turgon's face was as gloomy as water, Finrod's rage was almost tangible, Aretil was trembling with rage, and Glorfindel's eyes were cold.

Everyone's eyes focused on Meereen again. He bent down to pick up a pair of garden shears that had fallen on the stone slab. His movements were steady, without a trace of trembling. He looked up, his face showing no expected panic or anger, but only a deep calm and a hint of understanding.

"It was him," Meereen's voice was soft, but every word clear. He gazed into the distance, as if piercing space, catching sight of Nan Elmoth's shadow. "I guessed Eol wouldn't remain silent. With such a paranoid soul, after such a complete loss, hatred would surely be overwhelming. I even thought he'd spread rumors about me... but I didn't expect," he shook his head slightly, a faint, almost compassionate smile crossing his lips, "that he would choose such a thorough and despicable method, not only to plunge me into the abyss, but also to drag innocent people into the mire, weaving such a huge web of malice."

He clenched the garden shears, his knuckles turning slightly white from the strain, but his eyes were remarkably clear and resolute. "But," he said, his gaze sweeping across the worried elves before finally settling on Finrod and Aretil, his tone reassuring and resolute. "However he framed me, how he slandered me, it no longer matters. Eol is a stranger to me, a pathetic and abominable phantom wallowing in his own dark malice. His lies, his curses, even his very existence, cannot touch my heart. I will not allow his malice to pollute my pure land of Gondolin, nor will it disturb the peace within me for a moment."

The tranquility of Meereen and its indifference beyond hatred moved the elven lords present. Finrod, observing the clarity and resilience in his eyes, a testament to the vicissitudes of life, gradually replaced his anger with deep respect and regret.

Galadriel nodded approvingly. "Your heart is far greater than the serpent of the woods could fathom. When I saw the light of life flowing from you, I was convinced that Eol lied uttered a lie before the throne of Thingol. I never believed a single word of his lies."

"Thingol's ban is a done deal," said Turgon in a deep voice, with an unquestionable power of protection in his voice, "but this decree has no effect in Gondolin. Where you are, beneath the White Wall, there is sanctuary." This was the most direct promise of the Hidden King.

Finrod stepped forward and placed his hand firmly on Meereen's shoulder, offering unspoken support. "Turgon is right. That prohibition, born of lies and bred in darkness, has no right to define your light. Your worth and essence are clear to us. The shadow of Eol will eventually be washed away by the light, and you were born to be part of it."