Chapter 5

Finrod's group stayed close to Haladin's camp. They set up camp deeper in the forest, near a clear stream. Bright starlight streamed through the sparse treetops, casting a soft silver veil over the camp. A quiet campfire burned, dispelling the night chill, but unable to dispel the lingering thoughts of the elves.

Finrod sat on a smooth stone, his slender fingers gently stroking the strings of his harp, but he didn't play. His deep gaze gazed at the dancing flames, as if he was lost in thought. His three followers—Arno, a skilled swordsman; Calian, a sharp-eyed scout; and Melrin, a calm and knowledgeable chronicler—seated around him. The atmosphere was unusually quiet, yet tinged with a hint of suppressed excitement.

Finally, it was the young scout, Kaelion, who broke the silence. He had hair as dark as the night blue and vibrant gray eyes, now filled with confusion and wonder. "My Lord," he began, his voice clear in the silence, "did you feel that too? When you were with that young man, Meereen? That feeling of joy?" He glanced at Finrod, then at Arnor and Merlin.

Arno, a warrior with blond hair as bright as the sun and a sturdy build, paused polishing his sword. He looked up, a rare softness and recognition on his resolute face. "Yes, Kalian. It's an indescribable feeling. It's as if the dust of a long journey has been washed away, and certain stagnant shadows deep in my heart have been quietly pushed aside, leaving only pure tranquility and joy." He searched for the right words, his brow slightly furrowed. "It feels so natural, so comfortable that only after he left did I realize its existence and dissipation."

The elder Merlin's eyes were wise and gentle. He nodded slowly, his fingers unconsciously twirling the charcoal pencil he was using to write. "It's more than just comfort, Arnor. It's a solace that comes from the depths of my soul. It reminds me of the feeling of being bathed in the light of the Two Trees in Valinor, long, long ago. Though much fainter, the essence is similar: the power that dispels darkness, heals pain, and brings life and hope." He looked at Finrod. "This feeling was most intense when you taught him, as if the very transmission of knowledge itself was bathed in this light."

Finrod's gaze shifted from the flames. His star-reflecting eyes swept across his three loyal followers, finally resting on Calian. "Calian, Arnor, Merlin," he said in a low, melodious voice, brimming with a knowing calm. "What you feel is not an illusion. I, too, feel that strange peace and joy."

The camp fell into a brief silence, with only the crackling of the campfire as the elves looked at each other, their suspicions confirmed by the king only adding to their disbelief.

"This is incredible," Kalian couldn't help but say, his gray eyes flashing with inquiry. "He is a human! A young man who has lost his way! How could a human possess this... this almost divine power of influence? This is absolutely extraordinary!"

"It's truly extraordinary," Arno said, his tone a warrior's frankness. "On the battlefield, the shadows of pain and death follow us everywhere. But when we approach him, those shadows buried deep in the corners of our memories, even those we ourselves haven't noticed, quietly dissipate. This power is gentle yet powerful." He paused, a complex look in his eyes. "If it were on the battlefield..."

He didn't finish, but the point was clear. This power, which could soothe the ancient spirits of elves and dispel the shadows of their hearts, was invaluable.

Merlin stroked his silver beard, his wise eyes becoming profound. "This reminds me of the ancient legends. About some souls favored by the Valar, born with the breath of healing and light. Or..." He lowered his voice a little, "about those 'abnormal' beings that should not belong to Arda. King, when you gave him the Moon Spring Water of Nargothrond, was there some consideration in mind?"

Finrod raised his hand gently, pausing Merlin's unfinished words. His expression was gentle yet held an undeniable authority. "Merlin, ancient wisdom warns us of caution, but even more so, it reminds us to treat others with kindness. There is something truly extraordinary about Meerlin. That serenity and joy are the unintended expression of his soul, like the fragrance of a flower, unforced. My gift of the spring water is out of kindness and hope for a resilient, intelligent soul thirsting for light, not as a temptation or bargain."

He looked around at his three followers, his eyes clear and firm. "His origins are a mystery, his abilities strange. But so far, he has demonstrated only a thirst for knowledge, kindness towards the Haladin, and a heart that remains resilient in the face of adversity. We feel the light he brings. Isn't this a gift from Ilúvatar to Middle-earth? Especially in this day of growing darkness?"

The confusion and suspicion on Arno and Calian's faces were gradually replaced by recognition. The king's words were like a clear spring, washing away their uneasiness caused by the unknown. The pure comfort and joy they felt by Meereen was the best proof of this.

Merlin pondered for a moment, then nodded slowly. "Your Majesty, you are quite right. I have been overthinking this. This 'light,' whatever its source, is inherently kind and soothing. Its appearance here and now may have deeper meaning, but..." There was still a hint of worry in his eyes. "A tall tree attracts the wind. If someone with ulterior motives were to notice this human's unique qualities, it might bring disaster upon them."

Finrod's gaze darkened as he gazed into the darkness of the forest, toward the camp of Haladin. "Merlin's fears are well founded. Therefore," he said, his voice growing serious, "the knowledge of Meereen's qualities, and what we have sensed in his presence, must be kept between the four of us. Speak of them to no one else, not even our fellow men of Nargothrond. Until he grows strong enough to protect this Light, silence is his best protection."

The three attendants looked stern, placed their right hands on their chests, and solemnly replied, "As you command, Your Majesty."

Silence fell once more around the campfire. The elves were lost in their own thoughts. Finrod's admiration and protectiveness for Meereen deepened. Arnor and Calien savored the strange feeling of comfort, their curiosity and affection for the young human growing. Merlin pondered the possible sources of the "light" and the risks ahead. The boundaries of secrecy had been drawn, and a silent guard quietly unfolded around the fallen star in the forest.

Meanwhile, across the forest near Haladin's camp, Meereen was experiencing an inner storm.

As usual, he bid farewell to the enthusiastic Haladin around the campfire under the starlight. Chief Barad again tried to persuade him to stay, patting his chest and saying in his increasingly proficient Common Tongue: "Gurth-vir! Stay! Tent! Safe!" The other Haladin joined in, and children ran over to grab at his coat.

Meereen looked at those sincere, concerned, and kind faces, felt the warmth of the campfire and the lively atmosphere of the crowd, and a strong, almost painful longing welled up in his heart. He longed for this simple companionship, this unconditional acceptance, and longed to be one of them, to sleep by the campfire, to breakfast together in the morning light, to share the hardships and laughter of the migration. This sense of belonging was a treasure he had never experienced in that cold and alien world, and it was another heavy warmth beyond the starlight friendship brought by Finrod.

However, just as this desire reached its peak, a cold fear coiled around it like a poisonous snake.

Eol.

The gloomy elf's cold, scrutinizing gaze, his serpentine words, and the easily deflected yet malicious poison trap suddenly appeared before his eyes. He was a venomous snake in the dark forest, and he had set his sights on me. If I stayed in the camp, living among the Haladin day and night... when Eol appeared again, when his temptations became more dangerous, when conflict became inevitable, what would happen to these kind, defenseless humans? Would they be drawn into a terrible vortex, victims of Eol's poisonous scheme?

He looked down at his hand, the power that could instantly heal wounds and dispel poison. The Haladin saw him as the "Enemy of Death," a miracle. But the overly comfortable and fond looks of Finrod's followers, Merlin's occasional thoughtful gaze...did they also sense something? This power was his secret, but also his burden, a ticking time bomb, ready to attract covetousness and disaster at any moment. If the secret were exposed to the Haladin, would it frighten them? Would it change their simple goodwill? He dared not imagine.

A deeper fear came from within himself. Fragments of memories from that cold, otherworldly world, twisted energies, runes of destruction, the moment his companions and mentors turned to ash before his eyes—like an icy tide, they constantly washed over his soul. Was the "light" within him truly pure? Did it hold some unknown, terrifying connection to that ruined world? He feared he would bring disaster instead of healing, that a shadow lurked deep within his soul, unnoticed even by himself, that would one day taint this hard-earned warmth.

"Hantanyel, Barad," Milin forced a smile, his voice a little dry. "I'm used to the quiet of the forest." He pointed in the direction of his tree nest deep in the forest. "Come back tomorrow."

He wrenched free from the children's tiny hands, not daring to look at the disappointment and confusion in Ballard and the others' eyes. He turned, almost as if fleeing, and swiftly plunged into the darkness of the forest. Every rejection of this warm invitation felt like a wound in his heart. He longed for friendship, for belonging, like a desert longing for rain. But this longing was tightly bound within the boundaries of loneliness by the fear of implicating others, the fear of his own secrets, and the fear of unknown forces.

Starlight filtered through the branches, casting dappled shadows at his feet. He clutched the jade flask Finrod had given him to his chest, the warm touch bringing a faint comfort. The spring water within the flask symbolized friendship and hope, but the road ahead was shrouded in Eol's shadow and his own mists. He was like a man walking on the edge of a precipice, with the warm bonfire and the call of true friendship on one side and the dark abyss staring him in the face on the other.