Chapter 19
The thick, cheese-like fog no longer obscured their vision, giving the allied forces a sigh of relief. They relaxed a bit. After arriving at the allied camp, Glorfindel could only see Meereen treating the wounded, and it seemed he hadn't left the camp to wander around. He was somewhat attracted to this young man.
"Come, Meereen," Glorfindel's golden hair flowed like molten gold in the remaining light. He glanced around the camp, finally resting his gaze on Meereen. "Let's go for a walk. The situation at the camp is now alright. Let's go for a stroll." Maglor took a half step forward almost unconsciously, his lips moving slightly as if he were about to say something. But Glorfindel didn't give him a chance. His gentle yet unquestionable attitude was like an invisible wall. "Lord Maglor, the camp needs you to guard against possible attacks." He turned to Meereen, his tone unyielding. "Let's go."
Meereen's heart sank, and an inexplicable sense of resistance arose, as if he had been forcibly dragged from the warmth of the fire into the cold night. He looked at Maglor, and those deep gray eyes seemed to flash through a flash of emotion so fast that it was hard to grasp. Finally, Meereen suppressed the slight discomfort in his heart and nodded. "...Okay."
The two men left the camp, one in front of the other, and strolled along the lakeshore. Glorfindel walked in front, his golden figure a lone beacon in the mist. They walked in silence for a while, then Glorfindel's voice suddenly rang out, a casual, inquiring tone: "Meereen, what do you think of Fëanorion? I mean, all those princes from Valinor." Meereen was taken aback, having not expected such a question. He thought for a moment, then answered honestly: "I don't like Celegorm and Curufin very much. Their gazes are too sharp, as if they want to peel you apart to see the secrets hidden within your bones. It's too intense." He frowned, recalling the discomfort brought by that scrutinizing gaze.
Glorfindel didn't look back, but seemed to slow his pace for a moment. "So... what about Maglor?"
The name seemed to cast a magical spell, instantly dispelling Meereen's resentment towards the Celegorm brothers. A warmth suddenly surged across his cheeks, and he could even feel his ears burning. "Lord Maglor..." Meereen's voice softened unconsciously, taking on a softness he wasn't aware of. "He is very different. His singing and the aura of him..." He paused, unable to find a more appropriate word, and finally whispered shyly, "...I like him very much."
The blond lord in front of him stopped dead in his tracks and turned. His perceptive blue eyes were filled with a complex and inexpressible emotion—comprehension, deep worry, and a subtle hint of heartache. He observed the lingering blush on Meereen's face and the unconscious glint of attachment in his eyes. His lips moved, as if on the verge of saying something harsh, but in the end, they only morphed into a barely audible sigh and a low, solemn voice: "The world is complicated, Meereen. Some lights, if approached, might burn you."
Meereen looked at Glorfindel with some confusion, not quite understanding the deeper meaning of his words. But Glorfindel had already turned around and pointed to the setting sun in the distance, which was blocked by heavy dark clouds. "Look, Meereen, soon the sun will shine on the earth again."
When they returned to the camp, the afterglow of the setting sun finally struggled to penetrate the clouds above the canyon, casting a few thin rays of light, and a few cheers were heard in the camp.
The moment he entered the camp, Meereen's heart leaped. An intense, almost irresistible desire washed over him like a tidal wave. Maglor, he needed to see Maglor immediately! The urge was so intense that it even overwhelmed the exhaustion and joy of having just completed the mission. Almost subconsciously, his eyes eagerly searched the crowd for the familiar figure, and his feet involuntarily wanted to move towards the Fëanian camp.
Soon he saw Maglor, the bard walking toward him with his usual, reassuring smile, and Meereen immediately drew near, like a lost star finding its center of gravity.
"Lord Maglor!" Meereen's voice was filled with joy that he himself was not aware of.
"Meereen," Maglor's voice was low and melodious, his eyes lingering on Meereen with an intensity that was almost scrutinizing. "It seems your outing is over." He reached out his hand naturally, as if to pat Meereen's shoulder. At that moment, the golden figure of Glorfindel approached, his face wearing an impeccable, gentle smile, but the smile did not quite reach his eyes.
"Indeed," Glorfindel's voice was clear and steady. His eyes fell on Maglor's raised hand, then turned to Maglor's face with a hint of inquiry. "However, Maglor, it is a little surprising to see you and Meereen so close. After all, you have only known each other for a short time, and this friendship has developed so quickly. As fast as if it were pulled by some invisible thread." His tone was still gentle, but the hint in his words was like a stone thrown into a calm lake.
Maglor's hand paused in the air, then he casually withdrew it. His gray-blue eyes met Glorfindel's, and the corners of his mouth curved into an equally elegant, though distinctly cold, arc, with even a subtle hint of mockery in it: "Lord Glorfindel, the resonance of souls is sometimes difficult to measure by the length of time. Meereen and I felt a sense of familiarity from the moment we met. This is perhaps a feeling that a soul like yours, overly concerned with rules and distance, finds difficult to understand." He deliberately emphasized the words "from the moment we met," as if to emphasize some unquestionable, natural connection.
He turned to Meereen, and his voice instantly became soft again, even with a hint of temptation: "Meereen, when the war subsides, if you are interested, you may as well follow me back to Himring. The furnaces there forge the sharpest swords, and the echoes of the mountains will give your forest songs a new power." He made an invitation, his eyes fixed on Meereen, as if confirming his influence.
Meereen's eyes instantly lit up with longing, and he almost agreed without hesitation. At this critical moment, a Fëanorian servant hurried over and bowed to Maglor, saying, "Lord Maglor, His Highness Maedhros requests your immediate presence. There is urgent military information to discuss." Maglor's brows furrowed slightly, as if annoyed at the interruption, but he quickly recovered and offered Meereen a soothing smile. "Sorry, Meereen, it seems we must talk later. You rest first." He glanced at Glorfindel again, his eyes full of meaning, then turned and hurried away.
Watching Maglor's back disappear into the Fëanorion tents, Glorfindel's heart finally relaxed slightly. The timing was perfect! He turned to Meereen, whose face still clung to his longing for Himring and his loss at Maglor's departure. Glorfindel spoke, as if he had just remembered something important: "Meereen, speaking of the journey ahead, I do remember one thing. Before you left the forest of South Elmoth, didn't our friend Finrod Felagund warmly invite you to Nargothrond? I remember how much he looked forward to discussing the wisdom of the forest and the ancient arts of the elves with you."
"Lord Finrod..." Meereen murmured. The name was like a key, instantly unlocking a part of his memory that had been temporarily obscured by some force. Yes, one of his original reasons for leaving the forest was to accept the invitation of the wise King of Nargothrond! To explore new knowledge, to see a wider world—these were his original desires. The thought emerged clearly, like a fog lifted from before his eyes. The allure of Maglor's invitation to Himring strangely faded in the face of this awakened matter.
Glorfindel keenly noticed the momentary clarity in Meereen's eyes and struck while the iron was hot: "Now that the mists of the Valley of Shadows have lifted, the host of Angband has once again laid dormant, the allied forces have rested, and the situation is relatively stable. Is this not the perfect time to go to Nargothrond and fulfill my promise? Finrod will surely await your arrival in his water-ringed halls."
Meereen's sanity returned clearly, like a reef revealed after the tide receded. His almost morbid desire for Maglor was diluted by this sudden business. Yes, going to Nargothrond, that was what he had longed for. It was Finrod's friendship and knowledge that called him. "You are right, Lord Glorfindel," Meereen nodded, his tone returning to his usual firmness. Although there was still a trace of nostalgia for Maglor in his eyes, there was more sober determination. "This is indeed a good time. I should set off for Nargothrond."
That night, as they began packing in Meereen, Glorfindel quickly composed a secret letter. He summoned his most trusted and fastest messenger. "Send it with the speed of the wind to Nargothrond, and deliver it to His Majesty Finrod Felagund in his own hand." Glorfindel fastened the sealed scroll to the bird's leg, his expression grave. "This letter concerns the safety and free will of a friend. It must be delivered with all speed."
The bird chirped softly, fluttered its wings, and instantly turned into a silver streak, disappearing into the deep twilight. Glorfindel walked to the tent door, looked at the busy figures in Meereen, and then looked at the flickering lights of Fëanorion's camp in the distance, his brow furrowed. In the letter, he wrote in fluent and solemn Elvish:
My friend Finrod Felagund,
May the stars shine forever upon the waters and halls of Nargothrond.
This letter brings news, but also a heavy worry. The young Forest Keeper, Meereen, has answered your kind invitation and is about to depart for your kingdom. Possessed of rare talent and a pure heart, he is a precious light in these dark times.
However, I must confess my deepest concern. During the combined forces, Meereen developed an unusually close bond with Maglor of Fëanorion. The swiftness of this friendship, and the depth of Meereen's attachment to him, are beyond imagination. I witnessed with my own eyes that when Meereen was away from Maglor, his mind remained clear; but when close, his gaze hardened, his will drawn by invisible threads, a near-craving, uncontrollable closeness to Maglor. Meereen himself was vaguely aware of this, but his supreme confidence in his own magical resistance prevented him from truly understanding the true nature of this influence.
Finrod, my dear friend, I do not lightly accuse an Elven prince. But based on my observations and intuition, I strongly suspect that Maglor has unleashed some kind of mind-altering magic upon Meereen, perhaps drawing upon his powerful song magic or some more subtle art. The purpose is unclear to me, but Meereen's free will is undoubtedly being eroded.
Therefore, I implore you, swearing by our friendship and our protection of the innocent: when Meereen arrives in Nargothrond, see to it that you separate him from Maglor. Never allow Maglor to reach him again. Use your wisdom and strength to guard Meereen's mind and free him from this invisible bond. This matter concerns not only the safety of Meereen himself, but also the fragile bonds between our forces. Until you have definitive proof, proceed with caution and keep quiet.
I will tell you the details in person later. May the stars of Varda guide Meereen safely to you.
Your loyal friend,
Glorfindel
In the coalition camp, at dusk
The evening breeze blew, carrying the chilly, damp air of the war. Glorfindel knew this had only temporarily pulled Meereen back from the brink of danger. What was Maglor's purpose? He would never let go easily. Was Maedhros's urgent summons to see Maglor related to this? And could the awakened, unnatural desire for Maglor in Meereen truly dissipate with distance? What undercurrents awaited Nargothrond, the hidden kingdom ringed by flowing water? The mists of the Valley of Shadows had dissipated, but a fog of suspicion, enchantment, and ancient power seemed only just beginning to spread across Middle-earth.
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