Chapter 13
The atmosphere of the Summer's Gate Festival reached its climax when High King Fingolfin and his eldest son Fingon arrived in Gondolin. The Hidden City welcomed the supreme leader of the Noldor elves and his brave heir with the most grand ceremony. Flags fluttered on the white walls, the elves dressed in festive costumes, and cheers rose and fell like a tide.
Turgon personally led Aretil, Glorfindel, Ecthelion, and other important officials to greet them at the main city gate. The family reunion, especially the meeting between Fingolfin and Turgon, was filled with solemnity and profound emotion. Clad in a regal cloak of silver and blue, Fingolfin's face was as resolute as a rock, his eyes as deep as the stars on a cold night, imbued with the vicissitudes and majesty of a life traversed by countless years and hardships. Fingon stood beside his father, tall and majestic, his black hair laced with gold threads gleaming in the Gondolin sun. His eyes were bright and energetic, his smile broad, and he warmly embraced Turgon and Aretil.
A grand welcome ceremony took place in the square before the King's Tower. Wine flowed, music blared, and the elves sang and danced. Fingon's gaze swept across the festivities like a hawk, quickly locking onto a figure whose aura was distinct from the surrounding elves—Meereen. Dressed in refined elven attire, he stood quietly a little behind Aretilor, his demeanor serene, his black hair and deep eyes striking against the silver-blonde crowd.
"Turgon," Fingon took advantage of the break in the toast and whispered to his brother, his eyes flashing with undisguised curiosity, "The one standing behind Aretil... is a human? There are humans in your city?" This was really beyond his expectations. The secrets of Gondolin were well known, and it was rare to accept a human.
Turgon followed Fingon's gaze and nodded calmly: "Yes, brother, his name is Meereen Lóriandil. He is the savior of Aridil and our important guest." He spoke concisely and briefly, recounting how Meereen had saved Aridil, how he had turned the tide from Eol's poison arrow, and his current situation under his protection.
Their conversation, voices barely lowered, was naturally heard by Fingolfin, who was standing nearby. The High King's gaze shifted towards Meereen, a look of scrutiny and inquiry. As he listened to Turgon's description, especially when he mentioned Aretil's close relationship with Meereen and their frequent companionship in the gardens, a subtle worry crossed the august father's heart. It wasn't that he harbored any personal ill-will towards Meereen; in fact, Turgon and Idril's earlier descriptions of Meereen had left him with a favorable impression. His concern lay deeper.
Fingolfin calmly picked up the wine glass, took a sip, and asked Turgon casually, "Turgon, my son, this Meereen... he and Aretil, seem to have a close personal relationship?" His tone was calm, but his eyes sharply captured Turgon's reaction, "Aretil is my cherished daughter, and her happiness is of vital importance. Human life is as short as a shooting star, if she..." He did not continue, but the meaning was self-evident. He was worried that Aretil would develop feelings beyond friendship for a human who was destined to die before her, which would bring endless sorrow.
Turgon immediately understood his father's concerns. He shook his head and said in a firm voice, "Don't worry, father. Aredil regards Meereen as a close friend, and Meereen does the same. Their friendship stems from the trust they have shared through thick and thin and the soothing tranquility of Meereen, not the kind of emotion you worry about. Meereen's presence has greatly helped Aredil's mental recovery." He paused and added, "Idril often spends time with him in the garden, and Meereen treats her with the gentleness of a brother."
Hearing Turgon's confident response, and mentioning Idril's closeness, Fingolfin's doubts eased somewhat. He trusted Turgon's calmness and reliability. His curiosity about this human intensified. Saving Aridil from Eol's poison, gaining Turgon's protection and the trust of Aridil and Idril, even earning Glorfindel's closeness... these were not achievements of ordinary humans. Fingolfin sought an opportunity to personally speak with Meereen Lóriandil, to get to know the master of the gardens of Lóriandil up close.
When he searched the crowd again, he found that Milin had disappeared.
Meereen was not unaffected by the scrutinizing, curious, and probing gazes of Fingolfin and Fingon. Those scrutinizing, curious, and probing eyes reminded him of Eol's vicious accusations before Thingol's throne, and the chilling sentence of eternal imprisonment. Though Turgon and Finrod stood firmly by his side, the majesty and latent hostility of the Elven kings still cast a lingering shadow over him, and an instinctive resistance arose. He did not want to be the center of scrutiny and judgment again, especially before a High King of Fingolfin's stature and discerning gaze. He feared that any subtle action might be misinterpreted, leading to unnecessary trouble and even putting Gondolin at risk.
So at the most lively moment of the celebration, he quietly withdrew from the center of the noise, like a drop of water blending into the night, and walked silently to a secluded and deserted terrace deep in the palace. Here, far away from the noisy music and bustling voices of the banquet, there was only an ancient marble fountain with clear spring water flowing, making a gurgling sound in the moonlight. The cold moonlight spread over the terrace, stretching his shadow long.
Meereen leaned alone on the cool marble railing, gazing up at the bright moon over Gondolin. The night wind rustled his black hair, bringing a hint of coolness. His back looked particularly lonely in the moonlight, as if cut off from the bustling world around him.
Not long after, steady footsteps echoed behind him, and Glorfindel appeared at the terrace entrance, evidently keeping an eye on Meereen's movements. Looking at Meereen's frail, lonely figure, immersed in the moonlight, a subtle pity flashed in the Lord of the Golden Flower's eyes. He untied his dark blue elven cloak, embroidered with golden patterns, and silently walked behind Meereen, gently draping it over him.
"The night is cool," Glorfindel's voice was gentle, breaking the silence, "Why are you alone here? Is the joy of the celebration not enough to dispel the haze in your heart?" He stood beside Meereen and looked at the same bright moon, his long golden hair flowing with a soft luster in the moonlight.
Meereen felt the warmth and weight on his shoulder, his body stiffening slightly before relaxing. He didn't turn around, simply shaking his head gently. His voice carried a calmness that pierced the clamor: "Thank you, Glorfindel. It's not because of King Thingol's ban or Eol's slander; I've let that go." He paused, his gaze still fixed on the distant darkness, as if it could penetrate the thick mists of Gondolin. "What weighs heavy on me is... the shadow from the north."
He turned and looked at Glorfindel, the moonlight illuminating the deep worry in his eyes. "I am not confined to the garden alone. Warriors returning from patrol come to the garden to rest and talk. From their words, from the dust and fatigue they bring back... I have heard too much about things outside Gondolin. The darkness has never truly receded, Glorfindel. It gathers and surges in the north, like a flood about to burst its dam. Angband's iron hoofs trample on it, and shadows spread. The weeping and wailing are drowned by the songs of Gondolin, but they are real."
Meereen's tone carried a heaviness that transcended his human identity. It was the resonance and sense of responsibility that came from living with the elves of this land for many years and building a deep bond. "During these years in Gondolin, every tree and blade of grass here, every elf who smiled at me, have become an inseparable part of my heart. I know that my garden can bring a moment of tranquility, and my medical skills can heal some pain, but this is far from enough." His eyes became firm and pleading, "Glorfindel, I know that patrolling is the duty of guarding the front line of Gondolin, and it is full of dangers. But I ask you if you can take me with you when you lead your team on patrol in the future?"
He met Glorfindel's surprised gaze and continued, "I am aware of my abilities and my limitations, but I hope to use my hands to help those kind beings who are hurt on the edge of the shadows. Even if it's just to discover a sign of danger in advance and buy Gondolindor a moment to prepare... I don't want to be sheltered in the garden anymore. I want to do more for everyone."
Glorfindel listened quietly to Meereen's story, observing the genuine concern in his eyes, the deep love for Gondolin, and the eagerness to share responsibility. This love transcended race, transcended fear. His surprise gradually gave way to a strong respect and recognition. The human before him was no longer the lost man imprisoned in the garden. He had come to regard Gondolin as his home, and was willing to face danger to protect it.
The Lord of the Golden Flower stared into Meereen's determined eyes. After a moment, he nodded solemnly, his voice low and powerful: "I feel your intention, Meereen. This courage to defend your homeland deserves the highest respect. I will report your request to King Turgon truthfully. I believe that the king will seriously consider it." He did not make any guarantees, but the promise itself was as solemn as an oath under the moonlight.
The two of them fell silent, standing side by side on the moonlit terrace, gazing out towards the unknown land shrouded in darkness to the north. The distant celebratory songs still rang out, melodious and cheerful, like a faint candlelight against the darkness.
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