Chapter 25

Traveling under the stars and moon, sleeping in the open air, the group crossed the charred, silent desert of Anfauglith. The air grew thicker with the stench of sulfur, and the ground beneath their feet seemed to tremble with the heart of Morgoth. Finally, the gates of Angband, a terrifying, hellish maw, rose like a silhouette from a nightmare against the dim sky. Countless twisted towers and massive chimneys belched foul black smoke, completely obscuring the already sparse starlight. The air of oppression, evil, and despair was as tangible as a substance, suffocating everyone.

Standing before the terrifyingly large Black Gate of Angband, Meereen's heart beat wildly, not just out of fear, but also from a strong premonition deep in his soul - something big that could change the course of his destiny was about to happen. This premonition was so strong that it made him feel a palpitation.

"Wait," Meereen suddenly said, his voice filled with unquestionable determination. He ignored the dissuading glances of Finrod and Beren and quickly took out a spare, empty glass bottle from his bag. Then, in front of everyone's astonishment, he drew his dagger and, without hesitation, cut a deep gash on his palm.

Hot blood, shimmering with a strange glimmer, gushed out instantly. Meereen gritted his teeth, endured the excruciating pain, and poured every drop of blood into the bottle until it was almost full. He quickly bandaged the wound with a strip of cloth. The powerful healing power had already begun to shrink the edges of the wound. Then he pressed the bottle filled with his life source into Lúthien's hands.

"Take it, Lord Lúthien!" Meereen's voice was quick and firm, his eyes full of unquestionableness. "My blood may be of help. Use it in the most critical moment."

Lúthien looked at the bottle of blood in her hand, which seemed to contain faint starlight in the dim light, and felt the strange power contained in it. Then she looked at Meereen's pale face and determined eyes, and nodded solemnly: "I understand, Meereen. Thank you for your trust and sacrifice."

Finrod looked at Meereen, a complex light flashing in his eyes, which eventually turned into a heavy sigh and acquiescence. Beren patted Meereen's shoulder firmly, and everything was said without words.

Lúthien cast her magic of transformation once again, disguising them as a group of monsters driven by darkness, a disguise that was perfect in the foul atmosphere of Angband. They blended in with the dark servants coming in and out, and tremblingly passed through the dark doorway that was like the throat of a giant beast, stepping into the core of hell.

The interior of Angband was vast beyond imagination, like an inverted mountain burning with hellfire. A maze of passages crisscrossed the land, filled with the roars of Orcs, the hammering of smithies, the wails of the tortured, and a stench of sulfur and blood. The air was filled with a suffocating dark magic.

Following Huan's astute guidance, they stalked the highest and deepest reaches of Morgoth's throne, avoiding main passages and patrols. Eventually, they reached a secluded dais overlooking the vast throne room. Below, Morgoth, the imposing figure of a mountain, lay in a deep, uneasy sleep, his foot wound still tormenting him. Atop his vast crown, the three Silmarils gleamed like desecrated stars in the darkness, yet shrouded in a shadow of evil.

Lúthien took a deep breath, stood at the edge of the platform, and began to sing, gazing at the boundless darkness and evil below. This time, her song no longer carried the destructive power she had used to destroy the island of Thor-in-Golhoth, but instead was like the deepest, most tranquil lullaby. The song was ethereal and ethereal, as if emanating from the cradle of the world's birth, holding within it the power to soothe all rage, calm all anger, and guide all life into eternal slumber. The song pierced the stone barriers, disregarding the barriers of space, sweeping across Angband like an invisible tide.

A miracle happened. The smiths' hammering ceased, the roars of the Orcs turned to snoring, the wails of the tortured became whispers, and even the burning infernal flames seemed to sway more softly. All of Angband, from the mightiest Balrog to the lowest maggot, fell into a sleep never before experienced, sung by this lullaby of the Source Power. Even Morgoth, on his throne, bowed his massive head even lower, his breathing becoming heavier and more even.

"Now!" Finrod lowered his voice, his eyes burning with determination.

Meereen, Finrod and several of the most elite elven warriors slid down the platform like shadows, covering Beren as they quickly approached the huge throne of Morgoth. The air was filled with a disgusting stench and the snoring of sleeping beasts, and every step was like walking on the edge of a knife.

Beren's heart beat like a drum. He suppressed his instinctive fear of Morgoth, his eyes fixed on the three jewels on the crown that radiated pure light. He climbed carefully onto the huge base of the throne and used a sharp knife given by Lúthien, specially designed for cutting metal, to try to pry open the evil iron bands that secured the jewels.

Time seemed to freeze, and every second seemed to stretch endlessly. Finally, with a soft click, the Silmaril nearest Beren was pried free, its pure, flawless light instantly illuminating Beren's ecstatic face.

The moment Beren's hand touched the gem, something strange happened.

"roar--!"

A deafening roar, filled with endless rage and hunger, exploded like thunder in the direction of the gate of Angband. The sleeping Angband seemed to be awakened by the roar, and Lúthien's sleep song was strongly disturbed.

It was Carcharoth, the great wolf guarding the gate. Raised by Morgoth himself, this terrifying beast, endowed with strength and cunning far beyond that of an ordinary wolf, had, with its powerful dark essence and its sensitivity to the aura of the Silmarils, been the first to break free from the constraints of the song. It had smelled the pure, luminous aura of the Silmarils! That scent was like a deadly poison to it, yet it also held a fatal attraction.

Like an out-of-control black torrent, Carcharoth smashed through the heavy gates of Angband and rushed towards the throne room with the momentum of destroying everything. Its target was the jewel, and it wanted to devour the light that caused it pain and longing.

"Not good!" Finrod's face changed drastically. "Hurry, go to the gate."

Beren clutched the jewel he had seized. Lúthien's song was interrupted, and her face was pale, evidently consumed and suffering from the backlash. The others no longer cared about the other two jewels, protecting Beren and Lúthien as they fled for their lives towards the gates of Angband! Huan roared as he fell back, trying to stop Carcharoth.

The roar of Carcharoth awakened more and more minions of darkness, the Orcs woke up from their slumber, the Balrogs let out disturbed roars, and the whole of Angband began to wake up like a hornet's nest that had been pricked.

As he fled for his life, rushing through a corner near the throne room filled with trophies and collapsed rocks, Meereen caught a glimpse of the other two Silmarils on the crown, which were slightly shaking due to Morgoth's movements. A crazy thought flashed through his mind: He cannot stay here, not to Morgoth.

With a completely unconscious movement, amidst the frantic rush and chaos, Meereen lunged for the corner. Seizing the brief moment of confusion created by the struggle between his companions, Huan, and Carcharoth, he exerted all his strength, practically prying and pulling, to tear the other two Silmarils from the evil crown. A surge of pure, warm energy instantly surged into his palms, dispelling the biting chill deep beneath Angband and bringing a strange sense of comfort. He had no time to dwell on the sensation, nor to conceal his light, which was thankfully obscured by the chaos surrounding him, smoke, and darkness. Meereen immediately tucked the Silmarils into his closest, most hidden pocket. The action was lightning-fast, and in the chaos, no one noticed his astonishing act.

When they finally rushed to the gate of Angband that was knocked open by Carcharoth, the terrifying giant wolf had already broken free from Huan's entanglement and was blocking the only exit like a madman. Its huge body almost filled the doorway, and its saliva dripped like a waterfall, corroding deep pits in the ground. Its huge eyes, burning with madness and pain, stared at the Silmaril held tightly in Beren's hand, which emitted an alluring and deadly light.

Lúthien tried to support her weak body and use her singing to comfort Carcharoth again, but her strength was almost gone due to the previous consumption and backlash. Her singing was weak and trembling, and could not penetrate the madness of the giant wolf at all.

Seeing this, Beren protected Lúthien behind him without hesitation. He held the Silmaril high in the air, trying to use the light power of the Silmaril itself to force Carcharoth back: "Back off! Monster! In the name of light!"

The pure light stung Carcharoth's eyes, and he let out an even more painful roar, but greed and the madness bestowed by Morgoth overwhelmed his fear. Instead of retreating, he opened his cave-like mouth and bit Beren's right hand holding the jewel with destructive force and extreme speed.

"No——!" Lucien screamed heartbreakingly.

There was a teeth-grinding sound of bones breaking and flesh tearing, and Beren's right hand, along with the dazzling Silmaril, was bitten off by Carcharoth and swallowed into his stomach.

"Ah--!" Beren let out a shrill scream, blood gushing out from his broken wrist, and he almost fainted from the pain.

As soon as the gem entered Carcharoth's stomach, it immediately burned like a red-hot iron. Severe pain instantly swept through the giant wolf's body, and it let out an unprecedented howl, a mixture of pain, anger, and complete madness. This pain not only did not make it retreat, but instead completely destroyed its last bit of rationality.

"Lucien! Blood!" Meereen shouted at the top of his lungs in the chaos.

Lúthien woke up as if from a dream, and immediately took out the glass bottle given to her by Meereen, and poured all her blood on the maddened Carcharoth, who was writhing and struggling on the ground in agony. Most of Lúthien's blood splashed on its head and neck, only a small amount splashed into its huge mouth opened wide in pain, and more splashed on one of its huge eyes.

“Sizzle, sizzle—!”

A terrifying corrosive sound rang out! Carcharoth's eye, spattered with Meereen's blood, instantly corroded as if by strong acid, billowing smoke and emitting a burnt stench. The eyeball quickly festered and collapsed! This sudden and excruciating pain, superimposed on the burning gemstone, plunged Carcharoth into a complete hysterical frenzy.

“Ouch—!”

Kacharos, who was blind in one eye, was like a completely out-of-control demon from hell. He attacked everything around him frantically without distinguishing friend or foe. He swept with his huge claws and bit with his sharp fangs. He only wanted to destroy all existences that caused him pain.

"Be careful!" "Get out of the way!"

Screams rang out one after another. Several elven warriors, unable to dodge, were either smashed into pulp by giant claws or bitten in half by sharp teeth. Meereen saw with his own eyes that Guerrion, who had always protected him, was bitten halfway by Carcharoth when he tried to push away Balavorn, who had stumbled on the rubble.

"Old Eirion--!" Meereen's eyes were bloodshot and he was heartbroken. He wanted to rush over, but was held back by Finrod.

"Calm down, it's too late to save him!" Finrod's eyes were also filled with bloodshot and pain.

Worse still, from the depths of Angband rang the deafening sound of horns and the roar of countless Orcs. Morgoth had awakened, and the entire Hellfortress was awakening. They were in a desperate situation. In this moment of despair, Finrod suddenly looked up at the sky! Above the dim sky, three huge, nimble figures pierced through the thick smoke, swooping down towards the gates of Angband like divine warriors.

"Giant Eagle, it's Manwe's Eagle." Finrod's voice was filled with ecstasy at having been saved from a desperate situation. He raised his arms and shouted, "Hold on, our reinforcements are here! Fight for freedom, for light!"

This cry was like a shot in the arm. Meereen had long been exhausted by the endless fighting and grief, and his body was on the verge of collapse. At this moment, he forced himself to squeeze out the last bit of strength, waving the dagger picked up from the corpse of an orc, and stood in front of Lúthien and the unconscious Beren, resisting the crazy aftermath of Carcharoth and the sporadic orcs rushing up.

The giant eagle in the lead was none other than the Eagle King Thorondor. It let out a resounding cry that pierced the clouds and split the rocks. Its massive wings stirred up a fierce wind, and its claws, sharp as steel blades, grabbed at Carcharoth, who was attacking indiscriminately, like lightning, aiming for its only remaining eye.

Feeling the deadly threat, Kacharos temporarily gave up his attack on the ground, leaped up with a roar, and tried to bite the giant eagle.

Seizing this golden opportunity, Finrod shouted, "Mount your mounts!" His sharp eyes spotted several Noldor steeds, utterly panicked and unbridled, near the gates. He acted decisively, commanding the remaining warriors to seize the horses. With Huan's help, Lúthien struggled to drag Beren, unconscious and bleeding from his severed wrist, to a sturdy warhorse. Thorondor commanded the other two giant eagles to lower themselves. Their massive talons carefully avoided the horses, gently but firmly grasping her and Beren, they soared high and swiftly escaped this infernal gate.

"Meereen, hurry!" Finrod had already mounted a horse and shouted at Meereen who was still fighting desperately.

Using his last bit of strength, Meereen forced back an Orc who was charging at him with a sword, then turned and pounced on Finrod's outstretched hand. Finrod pulled hard and dragged Meereen onto his horse. Balavorn and the other two warriors also grabbed their horses.

"Go!" Finrod kicked his horse's belly, and the warhorse rushed out of the gate of Angband like an arrow, and everyone followed closely behind.

Behind him was the earth-shaking sound of the battle between Carcharoth and Thorondor, the roar of countless Orcs, and the terrifying roar of Morgoth after he woke up, so angry that it made the earth tremble.

They rushed out of the gates of Hell, leaving behind the burning Angband and the utterly mad Carcharoth, and fled southward, towards the faint ray of hope. The icy wind cut his face like a knife. Meereen leaned against Finrod's broad back, feeling the two Silmarils deep in his pockets, which continued to emit gentle warmth, like two small, non-scorching sunbeams in the bitter cold. This strange warmth was intertwined with the trembling in his heart after surviving the disaster, the great grief for losing his companions, and the deep confusion about the future.