Chapter 47

The shadow of Lindon quickly dissipated under Meereen's cleansing power, like morning mist dispelled by the sun. The elves' pale faces regained their color, their weary eyes gleamed with renewed brilliance. The stillness of Forrington was once again filled with the melodious sounds of harps and the whispering of Elvish. Gil-galad seized this precious respite and mobilized all the able-bodied elves in the city, gathering weapons and strengthening its defenses. Glorfindel frequently appeared in the training grounds and council chambers, his quiet yet resolute presence a powerful inspiration.

Navi departed, bearing weighty information regarding the east and the movements of Annatar, returning to Eregion to report to Celebrimbor. Meereen assisted with some of the subsequent cleansing efforts, but a lingering question lingered in his mind. He searched the corridors and bustling squares of the royal court, but could not find the familiar young figure—Elrond, son of Earendil and Elwing.

Meereen remembered clearly that before his journey west, Elrond, having chosen the fate of the Elves, had steadfastly remained in Middle-earth, at the side of Gil-galad. Now that Lindon was facing such a crisis and mobilization was imminent, how could Elrond be absent?

With this doubt, Meereen found Gil-galad in the council chamber, who was discussing military preparations with his generals. During a break in the meeting, Meereen approached and asked, "Your Highness, with all due respect, I do not believe I have ever met Elrond."

Gil-galad's eyes flickered with a complex expression, a subtle worry lingering. He gestured for Meereen to come to the window, gazing out at the revitalized forest of Lindon. His voice was low and clear: "Years ago, Elrond presented me with a vision. He believed that in the face of Sauron's growing threat, the elves needed a more secret, more defensible refuge, a place that could not only withstand swords but also protect hearts and pass on knowledge, a foundation beyond Lindon. He begged that such a place be found."

Gil-galad paused, as if recalling something. "I granted his request, and he departed with a small group of followers. I received a message from him only a short time ago." The High King pulled a scroll of parchment written in Elvish from his bosom and handed it to Meereen. "He has found a deep valley near the Misty Mountains in East Eriador. He described it as hidden behind heather moors, with a steep zigzag path leading to its entrance, making it extremely secret. The valley's upper reaches are covered with lush pine forests, while the lower reaches are dense with beech and oak trees. A clear stream flows, creating a rugged and beautiful landscape. He has begun to build a sanctuary there."

Meereen carefully examined Elrond's clear, powerful handwriting on the letter, describing the scene of the deep valley, and a warm feeling rose in his heart. This child possessed foresight and responsibility beyond his years. He put the letter away and asked, "Your Highness, the crisis in Lindon has been resolved, and Lord Glorfindel is assisting you in assembling your army. My stay here is of little importance for the time being. Is there anything else I can do? Perhaps I can contribute to Elrond's new homeland?"

Gil-galad looked at Meereen, his eyes thoughtful. "I have been considering potential allies. The High King of the Noldor's authority is now more than a symbol, and the power of the Elves is scattered across Middle-earth. Lothlórien, Greenwood the Great, Eregion, and those Sindar who chose to remain... News travels slowly, and we often only learn of Sauron's plots after they have already unfolded. This always puts us behind." He sighed, a hint of resignation in his weariness. "Unity is not easy, especially after so much pain and division."

Meereen keenly grasped the key to Gil-galad's words. He paused for a moment, his gaze firm. "Your Highness, finding and consolidating allies is crucial. Since Elrond is establishing a new sanctuary, why not let me go and assist him? I need to quickly secure this stronghold, making it a hub and information node connecting all parties. Furthermore," his tone softened, a touch of nostalgia lingering, "while in Valinor, I often spoke with Tuor. He mentioned that Earendil never ceased to yearn for and worry about Elrond in Middle-earth. I can also see the child's condition with my own eyes and perhaps bring back some news to comfort his parents."

Gil-galad's eyes flickered with emotion, and he patted Meereen's shoulder. "Eärendil and Elwing's thoughts... This is indeed a good suggestion. With you by Elrond's side, I feel more at ease, whether it's assisting with construction or dealing with possible dangers."

"As for seeking allies," Meereen said, turning his gaze eastward, "have you considered those Fëanorians who have chosen to remain in the east of Middle-earth?"

Gil-galad's expression instantly became solemn and complicated, his brows furrowed.

Meereen continued, "Curufin is Celebrimbor's father. Sauron is trying to extend his claws to Eregion, targeting Celebrimbor. Curufin will never sit idly by. Celegorm and Curufin have always had a close relationship and are very powerful. If we can win over their strength, we will have a better chance of victory against Sauron."

When mentioning the name "Maglor," Meereen's voice held a rare hint of uncertainty and deep emotion. "As for Maglor... Honestly, even though I've spent a thousand years in Valinor, often interacting with his mother, Naidaniel, and hearing from her many stories about Maglor's past in the Age of the Two Trees that even I don't know, I still can't say I understand him. His soul seems trapped in endless song and deeper regret, making it difficult to reach." Meereen raised his head, his gaze firm. "After completing the initial construction of Rivendell, I will personally travel to Fëanorion's territory in the east. Regardless, for the sake of a possible alliance, I will attempt to negotiate with him."

Gil-galad was silent for a long time, then slowly nodded. His complex expression showed both distrust of Fëanorion's power and respect for Meereen's judgment, as well as a clear understanding of the situation. "Your analysis makes sense, Meereen. Curufin and Celegorm are indeed worth a try. As for Maglor..." He shook his head and said no more, but his eyes showed that he had low hopes for the second son of Fëanor. "Very well, I will do as you say. I will send a team of experienced guards to escort you to the Vale of Elrond. May the stars guide your path, and may you bring back some definitive news about the child."

Bidding farewell to Glorfindel and Gil-galad, Meereen, escorted by a small group of Lindon elves, left the gradually rejuvenated Forringdon and headed for East Eriador, towards the Misty Mountains. Following the detailed directions provided by Gil-galad and the descriptions in Elrond's letter, they crossed the vast moors. Heather swayed in the wind, a sea of ​​purple flowers stretching to the horizon, meeting the hazy gray outline of the Misty Mountains in the distance.

After several days of trekking, they finally found the steep, unassuming zigzag path hidden at the edge of the wilderness. It was narrow and steep, barely wide enough for one person and one horse, flanked by weathered rock faces. As they wound their way down, the landscape suddenly opened up. A deep valley, as if carved by a divine axe, lay quietly within the embrace of the mountains.

The valley floor was lush and verdant. Tall, majestic pine trees blanketed the higher slopes, like silent guardians. Lower down, dense beech and oak forests spread, and sunlight filtered through the layers of leaves, casting dappled shadows across the ground. A clear stream surged from the depths of the valley, gurgling pleasantly between the rocks. The air was filled with the fresh scent of pine resin, moist earth, and grass—a stark contrast to the sea breeze of Lindon, yet equally full of life. The valley already showed signs of some initial construction: the outlines of simple wooden houses, cleared spaces, and figures busy at work—mostly elves, but also a few human artisans.

Near a massive rock by the stream, Meereen spotted a familiar figure. Elrond was bent over an open map, discussing something with several elven artisans and a man who looked like a human leader. He was much more mature than Meereen remembered him, no longer the intelligent and quiet youth of Turgon's court, but a calm and wise young lord. He inherited the handsome features of his father, Earendil, and the deep eyes of his mother, Elwing. His brow was thick with experience and a toughness beyond his years, a temperament forged through loss and choices.

Meereen motioned the guards to wait and walked over alone. His footsteps startled the people in the discussion. Elrond raised his head, and when his eyes fell on Meereen, his gray-blue eyes flashed with disbelief and surprise for a moment, which was then replaced by a deep joy.

"Meereen?" Elrond's voice trembled slightly as he stepped forward. "Is it really you? The light of Valinor shines upon Middle-earth once more?"

"It's me, Elrond." Meereen smiled and helped him up. He looked carefully at the son of an old friend, his eyes full of relief. "I am sincerely happy to see that you are safe and have grown into such an outstanding leader."

"Why are you here?" Elrond said, unable to conceal his excitement. "Is His Highness Gil-galad well?"

"Gil-galad is well, and Lindon is safe for now." Meereen briefly explained his purpose, mentioning the Valar's mission, Lindon's dark invasion, and his purification process. Finally, he said, "His Highness, upon learning that you have established a sanctuary here, is very supportive. He is concerned about your safety and lack of manpower, so he sent me to assist you. I also brought news of your parents from Valinor."

When Meereen mentioned "news about their parents," Elrond's eyes lit up instantly, filled with deep desire. He held his breath, as if afraid to miss a word.

"In Valinor," Meereen's voice was gentle and clear, with the unique tranquility of Valinor, "I often talked with Tuor, and he said that Earendil never stopped missing you. He often stood on the top of Taniquetil, looking to the east, trying to find the one that belonged to you among the stars. He was proud of the path you chose, but he also worried about your safety day and night. Elwing's singing always carried endless concern for you. Their greatest wish is to be reunited with you again one day after the shadow of Middle-earth dissipates." Meereen conveyed that deep love and expectation.

Elrond listened quietly, a thin layer of tears in his eyes. He raised his head and looked towards the gray sky in the east, as if he could penetrate the clouds and see the ship carrying his parents. After a long time, he lowered his head, his voice with a barely perceptible choke, but extremely firm: "I miss them all the time. Please tell them that I am fine. I chose to stay in this land and protect it, just as they once protected the star routes of Arda. This valley is the battlefield and home I have chosen. One day, when the darkness retreats, the starlight will surely guide us to meet again." This promise is both a response to his parents and a reaffirmation of his own choice.

Milin nodded solemnly: "I will definitely convey your thoughts."

Upon learning that Meereen had come to assist at the behest of Gil-galad, bearing the identity of an emissary from Valinor, the builders of the Deep Valley were greatly encouraged. Meereen immediately set to work. His extensive experience and unique understanding of natural forces played a vital role in the construction. He helped plan the fortifications, exploiting the terrain to design hidden outposts. He guided the elves in utilizing the valley's abundant wood and stone to construct sturdy dwellings imbued with elven aesthetics. He even applied the gardening knowledge he had acquired in Valinor, guiding the elves in cultivating small nurseries beside the streams, transplanting hardy flowers and plants, bringing vitality and color to the still-rough valley.

In between his busy schedules, Meereen kept a close eye on the outer reaches of the valley. He dispatched elven guards to complement Elrond's men, establishing lookouts at the valley's mouth and on the higher ground, alert for any threats emanating from the Misty Mountains or the Wastelands. The specter of war, like dark clouds hanging over distant mountaintops, weighed heavily on everyone's hearts, urging them to build this fortress of hope with greater speed and strength.

Time passed amidst the clinking of axes, the clamor of porters, and the songs of the elves. Through the combined efforts of Meereen and Elrond, as well as the painstaking work of numerous elven and human artisans, the valley gradually shed its primitive roughness, revealing the beginnings of a sanctuary. The buildings, arranged in a staggered pattern, clung to the hillside, skillfully blending into the landscape. Halls of wood and stone were sturdy and elegant, connected by winding corridors. Streams were channeled into the valley, forming clear pools dotted with bridges. An atmosphere of tranquility, resilience, and wisdom began to permeate the valley.

When the last roof of the main hall was finished and the last stone of the fortification was placed, Elrond stood on a high slope with a wide view in the center of the valley, overlooking the homeland that was born under the clouds of war. The afterglow of the setting sun gilded the valley with a warm golden hue, and the sound of pine trees and gurgling streams filled the air.

"It must have a name." Elrond's voice was calm and powerful, echoing in the ears of all the builders who had gathered. His eyes swept across the deep chasm and the jagged rock walls that were dyed rosy by the setting sun.

"From now on, this shall be Rivendell," he declared, his voice like a mountain spring, full of strength and hope. "It shall be called Imladris—the Chasm of the Deep. May it be a refuge for all who seek light and knowledge, a solid rock against the tides of darkness."

The valley erupted in cheers, and the elves' song rose again, louder and more hopeful than ever before.

During this joyous occasion, Meereen walked to the center of the hill and took out a cloth bag wrapped with silver threads, which emitted a faint breath of life. He carefully opened it, and inside was a plump, pure white seed that emitted a soft halo. This was a seed from the Holy White Tree that he had specially obtained from the garden of Yavanna before leaving Valinor, and it was a blessing given to him by Esti herself.

Meereen knelt on one knee and used his hands to dig a small hole in the soft earth. He gently placed the precious seed in it and carefully covered it with soil. He closed his eyes and placed his hands over the place where the seed had been buried.

This time, he wasn't just mobilizing healing power. He took a deep breath, lightly traced his fingertips across his palm, and a drop of blood, gleaming with a faint golden-red hue like a melting star, fell onto the newly covered soil and instantly seeped into it.

A soft yet powerful silver-green light flowed from his palm, purer than when it was purified in Lindon, containing the life force from the Two Trees of Valinor and the Garden of Yavanna. This light gently enveloped the soil where the seeds were buried, like a mother's warm palm.

A subtle yet vibrant stirring emanated from beneath the soil. A tender green sprout, slender yet incredibly resilient, burst forth with visible speed. It rapidly branched out, growing taller, its trunk erect and its branches and leaves spreading. As everyone watched with bated breath, the seedling blossomed into a graceful young tree in a matter of moments. Its leaves, not the usual green, were a warm silvery-white, their veins tinged with a faint glow. The entire tree exuded an aura of tranquility, holiness, and protective power. As the last leaf unfolded, the entire tree suddenly erupted in a soft, moonlit silver glow. This light was not blinding, but remarkably clear, like a pure veil of light that instantly swept across the entire slope, dispelling even the last lingering shadows of dusk cast by the mountain's shadow deep within the valley, bathing the entire heart of Rivendell in a peaceful and hopeful aura.

Elrond looked at the small tree that had grown instantly under the power of Meereen and was emitting a holy light, his eyes filled with shock and deep emotion. He understood that this tree was not only a miracle, but also a blessing from Valinor brought by Meereen, the soul and protective core of this new sanctuary.

The crowd spontaneously gathered around the silver-glowing White Tree. Without command, Elrond began to sing an ancient elven song, a melody praising the stars, light, and home. The surrounding elves, whether guards from Lindon, companions who had followed Elrond here, or even Men, could not help but join in the soft chorus. The song, resonating softly in the valley, blended with the light of the White Tree, filled with the joy of new life, the cherishment of home, and a silent oath against the coming storm.

Meereen stood among the crowd, gazing at the silver tree bathed in starlight and song, feeling the vibrant vitality and unwavering will all around him. Rivendell, the deep refuge, had finally lit its first lamp. His gaze involuntarily turned eastward, toward the unknown and challenging lands where Fëanorion dwelt. Maglor... that land, shrouded in song and silence, was the next mystery he must face.