Chapter 22
The opportunity that Curufin had been waiting for came in a way that Finrod least wanted to see but could not avoid - Beren, son of Barahir, appeared in the hall of Nargothrond, dusty and scarred, carrying the token of friendship between his father and Finrod, the ring engraved with the eagle emblem.
Beren's arrival was like a huge rock thrown into a seemingly calm lake. The request he brought plunged the entire hall into a dead silence. He fell in love with Lúthien Tinúviel, the Elf Princess of Doriath, and King Thingol's condition was a Silmaril from Morgoth's crown.
Finrod looked at the man before him, his eyes weary but burning with an undying flame, and at the ring in his hand, a symbol of a heavy oath, and his heart understood. He could not refuse Beren's request. This was not only a promise to his fallen friend, but also a call from his heart to light and to fight against darkness. Although Galadriel's warning, like a prophecy of fate, echoed in his ears again, Finrod's golden eyes ignited with determination, and he promised to help Beren.
Yet, as he prepared to fulfill this almost suicidal promise, a more pressing worry seized Finrod's heart: Meereen. Once he left Nargothrond and set out on his perilous journey, who would remain in the city to defend Meereen from the ambitions of Curufin and Celegorm? Those two brothers lurked in the shadows like serpents, waiting only for him to leave before baring their fangs.
Finrod immediately sought out Meereen. In the sun-filled guest room beside the water garden, Finrod's expression was more solemn than ever. He spoke directly, without holding back: "Meereen, I must leave. A heavy oath calls me to Angband." He didn't specify the specific mission, but the heaviness and danger in his words were self-evident.
"Leave? To where? Angband?!" Meereen stood up in shock. He keenly sensed a cold, death-shadow-like aura entwined with Finrod, which made his heart tighten. "It's too dangerous! Finrod!"
"Danger is something I must face." Finrod looked at Meereen, his eyes filled with genuine concern. "But I'm more worried about you. Once I leave, Curufin and Celegorm will have no scruples. Although Nargothrond is vast, it may not be able to completely stop their means, Meereen," he said earnestly. "I have made arrangements. My loyal men will escort you to the far south, deep in the unknown forests for refuge. There, you will be safe..."
"No!" Meereen refused flatly, his voice firm and clear, without any hesitation in his eyes, "I am not a bird that needs to be locked in a golden cage, Finrod, I am not afraid of the threats from Celegorm and Curufin!" He stepped forward, staring at Finrod with burning eyes, "I don't sense a threat to myself, I sense you! Your fate... it is standing in front of a dark dividing line, crumbling. How can I leave you at this time because I am afraid of the possible threat from those two brothers? When you are about to step into such great danger, I choose to stay, or follow you!" His concern for Finrod was sincere and strong, which completely overwhelmed his fear of the Fenorian brothers.
Finrod was deeply moved by Meereen's determination and his keen sense of his own destiny. He looked at the young guardian of the forest and felt a surge of warmth in his heart, but it was soon overwhelmed by a deeper worry. He could not let Meereen be dragged into the dire situation of Angband.
"Meereen, I appreciate your kindness, but this trip..."
"Finnrod," Meereen interrupted him with an unquestionable insistence, "Please tell me the truth, what kind of thing is worth you taking such a huge risk, even losing your life? You are my trusted friend and guide, I have the right to know what you are going to face!" His eyes were full of pleading and determination.
Finrod gazed into Meereen's clear and persistent eyes and remained silent for a long time. Finally, he sighed deeply, knowing that he could no longer hide it. He pulled Meereen to sit down and told him everything about Beren and Lúthien's love, King Thingol's seemingly impossible conditions, and Beren's request for his help.
Meereen was stunned. "A human... in love with an elven princess?" This was a shocking and unprecedented experience for him. The chasm between elves and humans seemed inconceivable to him. But the deep admiration and emotion in Finrod's voice as he recounted Beren's bravery for love, and Lúthien's rebellion against her father, moved Meereen. Beyond his concern for Finrod's safety, he felt a surge of admiration and sympathy for Beren and Lúthien, a lover who transcended all races.
"Why does King Thingol insist on the Silmaril?" asked Meereen, puzzled. "I heard Turgon speak of it in Gondolin, but he seemed unwilling to discuss it."
Finrod's expression grew even more solemn. "For the Silmarils are not ordinary, Meereen," he spoke slowly, his voice low, as if recounting an ancient and weighty myth. "They were created by Fëanor, the greatest craftsman of the Noldor, when the light of the Two Trees was still radiant. With supreme skill and painstaking effort, he combined the light of the Two Trees to create three gems. They are the crystallization of light, the most brilliant treasures of Valinor." Then, in poignant and concise words, Finrod recounted to Meereen the tragedy that had shaken the world: Morgoth had stolen the Silmarils and destroyed the Two Trees, and Fëanor had sworn a terrible oath in rage and grief—anyone who possessed the Silmarils, whether god, demon, or human, would be his undying enemy! And then, at Fëanor's instigation and the pressure of his oath, the Noldor had made a tragic journey from the blessed land of Aman, staining the port of Alqualondi with blood.
Meereen was horrified when he heard that the sons of Fëanor had inherited their father's oath and would do it at any cost. All his nerves tensed up instantly, and a terrible idea struck him like lightning.
"Finnrod!" Meereen suddenly grabbed Finrod's arm, his voice a little hurried because of nervousness. "Do Curufin and Celegorm know that you will help Beren seize the Silmaril?"
Finrod was taken aback by the question, then shook his head. "This happened suddenly. I was worried about your safety, so I only had time to discuss this with you. They are still unaware of it."
"They must not learn of this," said Meereen, his voice firm, his eyes gleaming with an unprecedented alertness. "By the terrible oath they swore, any outsider who lays hands on the Silmarils will be their sworn enemy. They will never allow you to help Beren seize the Silmarils, and they will stop at nothing to stop you, even if it means making an enemy of Nargothrond. They are in the city now, and if they learn of your plans, the consequences will be disastrous."
Finrod gasped. He hadn't failed to consider the Fëanorian Oath, but the pressure of worrying about Meereen and figuring out how to help Beren had temporarily sidelined him from the mortal threat of Curufin and Celegorm. Meereen's reminder was like a revelation, instantly bringing the situation into sharper focus.
"You are right, Meereen." Finrod's eyes grew sharp. "We must not let those two brothers know about this. Their oath will entwine like poison ivy, dragging us all into an abyss of no return!"
"We must act in secret!" Meereen responded immediately, his thoughts clear. "We cannot leave with great fanfare... We can use the pretext of visiting relatives or patrolling the borders to secretly gather your most trusted and most discreet confidants. The number should not be too large, but must be elite. Then, choose a night when it is least likely to be noticed, quietly leave Nargothrond, and reunite with Beren!"
Finrod looked at Meereen. He was both surprised and pleased by the acumen, courage, and wisdom displayed by this young child of the forest at this crucial moment. "Alright!" Finrod nodded firmly, his mind made up. "We will do as you say! Meereen..." He paused, looking into Meereen's determined eyes, knowing he could no longer persuade him to stay. "This journey is extremely dangerous, far beyond your imagination. Are you...really determined to come with us? This is not your oath."
"My oath is to protect life and light, Finrod." Meereen straightened his back, his eyes blazing. "To help you fulfill your promise to your fallen friend, to help Beren and Lúthien secure a glimmer of hope, and to fight against Morgoth... This is the path I have chosen, and I fear no danger."
Finrod looked at Meereen deeply and said no more. He patted Meereen's shoulder hard, and everything was said without words.
The following days were spent in intense, secret preparations. Finrod, alerting no one, secretly summoned ten of his most trusted, brave, and loyal elves. They accepted the king's command, their loyalty to their sovereign without question, only a resolute gaze. Meereen also quietly packed its bags.
A few days later, one night, the moonlight was shrouded by thin clouds, and the earth was hazy. Nargothrond was immersed in silence. Finrod did not light a lamp. He wore simple clothes that were convenient for movement, and wore the long sword Nagram at his waist. He took a last look at the hall he loved, surrounded by flowing water.
At the palace's most secluded side entrance, Finrod, Meereen, and ten of his closest elves, cloaked in dark cloaks and as if part of the night, quietly gathered. No words were spoken, only glances. Like ghosts, they moved under cover of darkness through the intricate rock passages and silent garden paths of Nargothrond.
As they finally passed through the last, hidden exit of Nargothrond, leaving the city of flowing water and light in the shadows behind them, a mixture of determination and uncertainty filled the air. Finrod glanced back at the hazy white city in the moonlight, his heart filled with longing for the city and anxiety about the future. Meereen took a deep breath of the cool wilderness air and tightened his grip on his short staff. He could feel the sound of the Narog River grow clearer, its faint murmur as if bidding them farewell, or perhaps telling of some ancient prophecy.
The procession advanced swiftly in silence, bound for the agreed location where Beren would meet them. Unbeknownst to them, in the magnificent guest room prepared for the Fëanorion brothers in Nargothrond, Curufin stood at the window. His gray-blue eyes keenly caught sight of the figures disappearing silently into the night from the depths of the palace. A cold, thoughtful curve curved his lips.
"It seems our 'canary' has flown away with its birdkeeper." He murmured to himself, his eyes flashing with calculation. Celegorm walked to the window upon hearing the sound, and looked out at the silent night, his face showing a dangerous, hunting-like excitement.
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