Chapter 6

On the night of the new moon, the forest sank into its deepest inky hue. Starless, only the cries of night owls and the rustle of wind through the ancient treetops, like the sleeping breath of the earth. Meereen arrived at the place he had agreed to meet with Eol, a clearing in the woods near a massive black rock face. Moonlight barely penetrated the dense shade, and the air was perpetually filled with the scent of damp moss and some kind of metallic ore.

Eol was already waiting there. He hadn't lit a bonfire, but stood quietly in the shadows, as if he were part of the darkness. He still wore his dark green robes. As Meereen approached, his eyes, dark as deep pools, lit up in the shadows. His cold gaze, like a substance, swept over Meereen with an undisguised scrutiny.

"You're here." Eol's voice was as hoarse as a broken twig, and no emotion could be heard.

"I am here," Meereen replied, trying to keep his voice steady. His initial fear hadn't completely dissipated, but after several moonlit "meetings," the suffocating feeling of being watched by a venomous snake had eased slightly, replaced by a chilling familiarity of heightened vigilance. Eol had kept his end of the bargain, at least outwardly. He brought knowledge: secret mineral veins deep within the forest, ancient algorithms governing the movement of the stars, and the wondrous medicinal thresholds of certain toxic plants. This knowledge, like a sweet, poisonous wine, was irresistible to Meereen, thirsty for truth.

Tonight, Eol was in no hurry to impart knowledge. He motioned for Meereen to sit down, and he sat down on a smooth, cold black stone. He took out a few things from his leather bag: a piece of ore that shone with a strange dark red color and seemed to have flames flowing inside, several black leaves with sharp edges like knives and a cold metallic luster, and a small polyhedron with an extremely complex structure carved from some kind of dark purple translucent crystal.

"Dark Firestone," he said in a flat voice, pointing at the dark red ore, "grows only at the intersection of the deepest earth veins. It can absorb and store pure destructive energy, making it the core of forging cursed weapons." He then pointed to the black leaves, "Shadow Blade Fern. Its juice can instantly paralyze the nerves, but if extracted during a specific moon phase and combined with precise astral guidance, it can instantly stimulate the potential of the dying, at the cost of burning the soul." Finally, he picked up the purple crystal polyhedron, "This is the 'Shadow Prism.' It can reflect the shadows of the soul, revealing hidden trauma and distortion."

Eol's dark gaze locked onto Meereen, like a venomous snake locking onto its prey. "Choose one and tell me how you feel about it."

This was Eol's usual method of "observation." He brought various objects imbued with dark power or strange energies, allowing Meereen to touch and sense them, then describe their inherent energy flows or "essence." Meereen knew this was dangerous. Every time he touched one of these objects, it felt like touching an icy abyss, a chill creeping through his fingertips. Sometimes, it even triggered flashbacks of devastated otherworlds, bringing on intense headaches and heart palpitations. But he couldn't resist the allure of knowledge, and he vaguely hoped that by understanding these dark creations, he could better understand the "light" within himself, which seemed to contradict it.

Milin took a deep breath and chose the relatively "gentle" leaves of the Shadow Blade Fern. He carefully touched the cold edge of the leaf with his finger. Instantly, a chilling, sticky, and numbing aura flowed through his fingertips! Fragments of memories from another world suddenly exploded—purple-black energy cracks, piercing alarms, and the last look of despair in his mentor's eyes before he was devoured. He groaned, his face instantly pale, and cold sweat oozed from his forehead.

"Chaos... erosion..." Milin gritted his teeth, trying to concentrate his mind to fight against the discomfort and the impact of memories, "The core... is paralysis... but deeper... is a connection... a certain... cold will... is inducing... burning..." He described the perceived energy characteristics intermittently, as if dissecting the venom gland of a poisonous snake.

Eol listened quietly, his dark eyes flickering with assessment and a subtle satisfaction. Meereen's perceptions were exceptionally sharp and precise, far surpassing those of ordinary humans, even surpassing those of many elves. He could not only sense the surface energy of objects but also seemed to tap into a deeper, almost law-like connection.

"Very well." Eol's voice remained icy, but with a subtle ripple. He put away his belongings, as if the dangerous attempt had never happened. "Now, tell me about your daytime activities. What were you teaching the Edain?" He changed the subject, his tone deliberately dismissive, but Meereen could sense his underlying interest.

Milin calmed his breathing and wiped the cold sweat from his forehead. During the day, in the Haladin camp, it was a different scene.

Sunlight filtered through the branches onto the clearing of the camp. Meereen was surrounded by a group of Haladin women and children. Before him lay a clean hide, upon which lay a variety of gathered plants: thick moss for cooling, astringent oak bark, soothing willow bark (a raw source of salicylic acid), and several herbs and flowers with mild antiseptic properties.

"Look," Meereen explained in his increasingly fluent Haladin with simple gestures, picking up a piece of moist moss. "Wounds... after washing... cover them with this. Clean... cool... helps... heal." He gestured to the child with a scrape on his arm, brought by his mother. Meereen demonstrated how to clean the wound, apply moss, and bandage it with a clean cloth.

He picked up the oak bark again: "Boil it in water... let it cool... wash... the red and swollen areas." He picked up the willow bark again: "Toothache... joint pain... chew a little... or boil it in water and drink... a little bit!" He emphasized the dosage.

Chief Ballard and some hunters watched intently from the sidelines. They had experienced too many tragic deaths from minor wound infections, fever, or pain. These simple yet incredibly effective natural remedies taught by Meereen were like a godsend to them.

"Gurth-vir! Maer!" (Enemy of death! Good!) People exclaimed in praise, their eyes filled with gratitude and trust. An old woman even embraced Meereen with tears in her eyes as she recounted how her son had died from a minor scratch that had worsened.

Meereen felt the genuine gratitude and warmth of the people, and a warm current surged through his heart. As he focused on teaching and helping, his fear of implicated others and his worries about his own secrets temporarily receded. He could clearly feel the surrounding grass and trees grow greener as he moved around the camp, and even the birdsong circling above the camp seemed especially cheerful. This vibrant sense of tranquility was a silent connection he had established with the forest.

Back in Eol's cold corner, Meereen described it simply: "Teach them to use forest tools to treat minor injuries, reduce fevers, relieve pain, and prevent infection. Humans are very fragile."

Eol snorted, his voice unintelligible. "Using the spirit of plants to fight the decay of flesh? Mortal struggles are futile and ridiculous." He spoke with a sneer, but his dark gaze was fixed on Meereen's face, catching the flash of warmth and satisfaction in his eyes when he mentioned the camp. "You seem to enjoy playing their 'healer'?"

Meereen didn't answer, only meeting Eol's gaze in silence. He noticed that since he'd been so frequent in this area near Eol's lair, the surrounding flora had undergone subtle changes. The ferns, once gloomy in the shadows, seemed to have stretched their leaves, a subtle hint of life growing around their edges. Even at the base of the massive black rock where Eol leaned, some of the remarkably tenacious mosses had spread a brighter green than before. He vaguely sensed a faint, yet real, sense of joy emanating from the surrounding trees and grass, as if his very presence were a drop of dew falling upon the parched earth.

Eol evidently noticed, too. His eyes, dark as deep pools, narrowed slightly, and for the first time, a deeper, almost bewildered inquiry mingled with his cold scrutiny. As an elf acquainted with the dark side of the forest, he possessed a unique sensitivity to the "language" of plants. He could clearly "hear" the faint tremors of joy, like sprouts breaking through the earth, from the ancient trees, low shrubs, and even the moss on the rocks, as Meereen approached. This region, long shrouded in shadow and a metallic aura due to its proximity to his workshop, was now unnaturally ablaze with life thanks to this human's presence.

This was unnatural! It was impossible for an ordinary human to do this! Eol's inner doubts and interest reached new heights. He no longer simply viewed Meereen as an "abnormal" specimen worthy of study. Meereen's qualities, which unconsciously dispelled gloom, brought tranquility, and even nurtured all things, combined with the cold wounds and lingering shadows of despair deep within Meereen's soul, stemming from the destruction of another world, that Eol had vaguely touched upon during his several in-depth explorations... All of this gave rise to a twisted thought in Eol, one he hadn't even realized.

Perhaps this conflicted human didn't belong to the warmth of the Haladin's campfires, nor did he fully belong to the illumination of Finrod's stars. The deep scars in his soul, temporarily obscured by the light, and the gloom within my own soul, dancing with the shadows of the forest, might their fates be more similar? A strange, possessive thought quietly grew.

The next night of the new moon, Eol brought no cold ore or poisonous plant samples.

He handed Meereen a small container carved from some dark, warm wood. It was shaped like half a curled leaf, its edges inlaid with fine silver ore particles that looked like solidified stardust.

"Here." Eol's voice was still hoarse and cold, but less harsh than before. "Use it to hold your scraps of grass and wood." He was referring to the herbs collected from Meereen.

Another month later, he tossed Meereen a smooth, warm black pebble with silver, vine-like veins naturally formed on it. "Put it in your dwelling. It will help you see better in the dark," he explained stiffly.

The most recent time, he even brought a small bottle of golden liquid, as thick as honey and exuding a refreshing herbal aroma, contained in a sealed crystal bottle. "Marigold pith. Mixing it with your mundane herbs will enhance its effectiveness." He looked away, as if giving it away made him uncomfortable.

Each of these items was a treasure from Eol's workshop, imbued with the ancient essence of the forest or a strange energy specially processed by him. They were no longer meant to "observe" the characteristics of Meereen, but more like a clumsy attempt to retain the tranquility and vitality that Meereen brought, an attempt to exchange the treasures of the dark forest for the echo of the "light" that he did not understand but instinctively longed for.

Meereen accepted the gifts with astonishment, sensing their extraordinary power and the power they held. Eol's demeanor had subtly shifted, no longer merely a cold observer and dispenser of knowledge. There seemed to be a strange, inexplicable element of giving, a quality that compounded his wariness of her. The danger remained, and Eol's gloomy nature remained unchanged. But in this shadowy land, a twisted, fragile connection quietly grew, like a vine entwined with cold rock.

He still longed for the campfires and the starlight of Finrod's teachings, and was afraid of his own secrets and the threat of Eol, but in this dark land of echoes, he felt a strange sense of being needed. This gloomy elf seemed to be trying to retain the unusual vitality and tranquility brought by Meereen in his own unique way.