Chapter 26
Fleeing the hellish roars and pursuers of Angband, Finrod and his companions fled southward like frightened birds, not pausing for a moment. They chose a relatively hidden route, crossing the treacherous Gap of Agron and entering the relatively open yet still war-filled plains of Lothran. This was once the outskirts of Fëanorion's sphere of influence, bordering the Himlad Meadows, once home to Celegorm and Curufin, though Himlad had tragically fallen to the Orcs in the War of Sudden Flame.
Fatigue weighed on everyone like a heavy lead weight. They dared not build a campfire, fearing the flickering flames would become a prime target for the pursuing soldiers of Angband or the wandering Orcs. They could only hastily pitch a few simple tents in the lee of the wind, taking turns to stand guard and rest.
In his own small tent, Meereen's heart continued to beat wildly, not just because of the shock of escape. He carefully unbuttoned his clothes and took out the two Silmarils he had risked hiding from his closest and most hidden pocket. In the darkness of the tent, they were like two miniature stars, emitting a pure and soft light, dispelling the cold and darkness around them.
Meereen held his breath, cradling them in his palms. A familiar, soothing warmth washed over him again, like a warm spring soaking his chilled limbs. Even the weariness of his soul, the sorrow of his lost companions, was gently soothed by the light. The jewels shone before his eyes, pure and flawless, imbued with an ancient and powerful power. He examined them carefully, making sure they hadn't been damaged in the chaotic seizure and escape.
As the initial excitement subsided at the comforting warmth of his fingertips, a heavy sense of uncertainty and unease washed over him. Was it an impulse? No, it was an almost instinctive reaction in desperate circumstances. He could not allow these holy relics of light to remain on Morgoth's desecrated crown. But what now? What should he do with them? Tell Finrod? Tell Beren and Lúthien? Would Finrod understand his original intentions? Beren had already lost a hand to obtain one of the diadems; how would he regard his hoarding of the other two? The terrible oath sworn by the sons of Fëanor... if word leaked, the consequences would be disastrous.
These two sources of warmth and light were now like two burning charcoal fires hidden in his arms. He could only hide them deep in his pockets. The warm touch now brought an indescribable burden.
At dawn the next day, just as the sky was beginning to turn pale, the group bravely set out again on their journey back to Nargothrond. Everyone was silent, and the atmosphere was heavy. The grief of losing their companions, the worry of Beren's serious injury, and the shadow of terror brought by Angband weighed heavily on their hearts.
As they passed through a dark woodland covered with low shrubs and gnarled old trees, something strange happened.
"Woo-whoa!" The sharp sound of the Orc horn suddenly rang out, and then dozens of poisoned arrows shot out from the bushes on both sides. Angband's pursuers actually caught up.
"Enemy attack! Take cover!" Finrod shouted sharply, drawing his sword to block the attack. Though exhausted, the men's instinct for survival was instantly activated, and they immediately fought back, clinging to trees and rocks. Meereen also drew his short sword, and despite physical weakness and mental exhaustion, he fought hard to resist the onrushing Orcs. The battle was fierce, as the Orcs vastly outnumbered their remaining troops. After a bloody fight, they finally annihilated the pursuing group, but each was wounded and exhausted to the limit.
Milin felt his vision go black, his arms felt heavy as if filled with lead, and even breathing became difficult. He staggered a few steps, and finally couldn't hold on. His vision went black, and he fell heavily to the ground, completely losing consciousness.
"Meereen!" Seeing this, Finrod was very anxious and wanted to rush over to check immediately.
At this most vulnerable moment when the old strength was exhausted and the new strength had not yet been generated, a black shadow as fast as lightning flashed out from behind a huge ancient tree behind Finrod.
It was Celegorm. Like the most experienced hunter, he seized the fleeting opportunity with precision. A tough elven lasso flew out of his hand like a living thing and accurately caught the waist of Meereen, who was lying unconscious on the ground.
"Got it!" Celegorm grinned and pulled back with all his strength.
"No!" Finrod swung his sword at the lasso, but Curufin's arrow struck his sword wrist, forcing him to retreat.
In that split-second delay, Celegorm had dragged Meereen to his side, hoisting him roughly onto his shoulders. "Finrod, we'll see you later! We'll take this 'treasure' with us," Curufin's voice was tinged with cold mockery. He fired another arrow to thwart the others' pursuit, and then, like two gusts of wind merging into the shadows, Celegorm and his incomparable familiarity with the Himlad Steppes vanished in a few leaps and descents, disappearing behind the dense undergrowth and rolling hills at astonishing speed.
"Meereen—!" Finrod's roar echoed through the woods, filled with rage and powerlessness. He had never imagined that after enduring the catastrophe of Angband, Celegorm and Curufin would still lurk nearby, waiting like venomous snakes for the fatal blow. Their obsession with Meereen had reached such a pitch of madness.
Finrod nearly gritted his teeth as he watched Meereen being taken away. His closest companions were equally filled with grief and anger, but they all knew that in their current state, there was no way they could catch up with the Celegorm brothers, who were familiar with the terrain and well prepared.
"We can't stay here any longer! The Orcs may be pursuing us further!" Balavorn advised, suppressing his grief. "Celegon and the others must have fled to Himring. We must go to Hithlum and seek the High King's aid."
Finrod took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down. Anger would not solve the problem. "You are right. Go to Hithlum and meet the High King immediately."
They abandoned their plan to return to Nargothrond and turned around, heading towards Hithlum, the heartland ruled by Fingolfin, High King of the Noldor. They were exhausted all the way and did not dare to delay even a moment.
When Finrod and his companions arrived at the royal court in Hithlum, exhausted and covered in blood, they caused quite a stir, and Fingolfin summoned them immediately upon hearing the news.
In the magnificent hall of Hithlum filled with the solemn atmosphere of war, Finrod recounted to Fingolfin, High King of the Noldor, in detail the thrilling journey of the robbery of Angband, including Beren's serious injury, the rescue by Lúthien and Huan, and the final despicable act of Celegorm and Curufin who took advantage of the chaos to plunder Meereen on their way back.
"Lord Fingolfin..." Finrod's voice was low and filled with suppressed anger, filled with fatigue from the long journey and deep worry. "Celegon and Curufin, they first imprisoned Lady Lúthien through deception and force, intending to force King Thingol to agree to Celegorm's marriage. This act was considered a betrayal by Nargothrond, and they were banished forever. Yet, far from showing any remorse, they followed us all the way to the outskirts of Angband. Seeing that they could not lay their hands on Lady Lúthien, they turned their sights on Meereen. While we were exhausted from fighting the Orcs, they abducted the unconscious Meereen and fled towards Himring."
Finrod raised his head and looked directly at Fingolfin, his eyes filled with pleading and determination. "Meereen is not only my friend, but also the benefactor who risked his life to save you at the Black Gate of Angband during the Battle of Sudden Flame. Furthermore, they are recognized and accepted by the Valar as part of the World of Arda. Brother Celegorm's actions are not only a violation of our alliance, but also a blasphemy against the will of the Valar. I implore the High King, for the sake of justice and friendship, to intervene and save Meereen."
Fingolfin sat upright on the throne, his face like a frost-covered rock. He listened to Finrod's narration, his eyes deep and sharp. When he heard about Celegorm and his brothers imprisoning the daughter of Thingol, his fingers on the throne armrests tightened slightly; when he heard about them kidnapping Meereen, his eyes suddenly became extremely cold, like the cold wind from the far north.
The hall was filled with silence, only Finrod's words echoed. After a moment, Fingolfin spoke slowly. His voice was low, yet it held supreme authority, each word clear and weighty: "The deeds of Celegorm and Curufin…" He paused, as if searching for the right words, "…are chilling. They imprisoned the daughter of Thingol, a betrayal of trust; they plundered her who had saved them, a traitor. They have sullied the honor of the Noldor and betrayed the glory that flows in their blood."
He stood up, his tall figure carrying an unquestionable determination. "Finrod, you've traveled all the way and must have worked hard. The affairs of Meereen concern friendship, gratitude, and even more so, the reputation of our clan in the eyes of our allies. I cannot sit idly by."
Fingolfin descended the throne steps, his gaze sweeping over the loyal generals, his son Fingon, and the others in the hall. "I will go to Himring myself and face Maedhros. This is not to bring a charge, but to demand an explanation on behalf of all the victims and those who uphold justice. Meereen must be returned safely."
His gaze finally fell on Finrod, with a hint of imperceptible concern: "Your injuries have not yet healed, and you must stay in Hithlum to recuperate. I will bring necessary confidants with me to ensure the solemnity and strength of the negotiations. Maedhros is a sensible man, and I believe he will restrain his brothers and make the right choice." His words were calm, but contained an unshakable determination, as if stating a future that was about to become a reality.
Finrod bowed deeply and said, "Thank you. May your wisdom and prestige be brought back to Meereen." He knew that Fingolfin's personal presence, accompanied by his confidants rather than a large army, was both a sign of respect and room for negotiation for Maedhros and a demonstration of his utmost importance to the matter. This was the self-cultivation and strength that a High King should have.
Just as Fingolfin was furious and was about to intervene personally in the kidnapping of Meereen, Celegorm and Curufin were carrying the unconscious Meereen and fleeing for their lives on the Himlad grasslands that once belonged to them. They were familiar with every path and every ravine where they could hide, and cleverly avoided the wandering Orc groups.
Before they reached the edge of Himring's high, impregnable fortress, guarded by Maedhros, a swift falcon belonging to Maglor overtook them, bearing a letter from Maglor himself.
Celegorm impatiently opened the letter, and Curufin leaned in to read it. The handwriting on the letter was fluent and beautiful, but it was cold and harsh:
Celegorm and Curufin:
"I have just heard of your deeds on the borders of Doriath and on your way back, and I am filled with astonishment and wrath. You have imprisoned Lady Lúthien Tinuviel and sought to oppress King Thingol. This has been a monstrous act, one that has not only angered Nargothrond but has brought shame upon our house."
And now, you have gone even further, forcibly seizing Meereen while Finrod and his men are returning exhausted from their narrow escape from Angband? How foolish! How reckless! Have you never considered the consequences?
Finrod has arrived in Hithlum and met with High King Fingolfin. Fingolfin is furious about this matter and has sent a question to Maedhros. He has made it clear that he will come to Himring himself and demand that we hand over Meereen! His determination is firm and unquestionable, and he is probably on his way now.
Maedhros is preoccupied with defending the eastern front against the threat of Morgoth, and has little time to deal with the storm you have unleashed. Himring cannot, and must not, be a refuge for your reckless actions, subject to the wrath of the High King.
Change your course immediately, and do not bring Meereen into Himring. Turn to Shagelion and seek the protection of Caranthir. There, in his domain, far from the host of Hithlum, the terrain is varied and offers shelter, a place to hide for a while.
Once we reach Shagelion, we must guard Meereen closely, ensuring no further mishaps or harsh treatment of him. When the High King's wrath abates and we are free, we will discuss how to best handle this matter.
This is an order, execute immediately.
Maglor
After reading the letter, Celegorm's face turned pale and he clutched the letter tightly in his hand: "Maglor, he doesn't understand the value of Meereen..."
"Calm down, Celegorm!" Curufin interrupted him, a calculating gleam in his gray-blue eyes. "Maglor is right this time. Fingolfin has come personally, bringing his will and his entourage of trusted followers to demand punishment. Himring is now the eye of the storm. If we take Meereen back, it will only put Maedhros in an extremely embarrassing and dangerous situation. Shagelion in Caranthir is indeed a wise choice. It is remote enough and... 'complicated' enough." A meaningful arc appeared at the corner of his mouth.
"Complicated?" Celegorm frowned.
"Have you forgotten?" Curufin reminded him, "After the War of Sudden Flame, weren't the Easterlings who came to seek refuge here, Ulfang and his sons, settled by Caranthir in a part of Shagelion? Their backgrounds are unknown. Perhaps in that environment, we can better observe and understand the unique qualities of our precious guest."
A glimmer of understanding and coldness flashed in Celegorm's eyes, and he looked at Meereen who was still unconscious on his shoulder: "Hmph, all right. Then let's go to Shagelion! I want to see how the fate of this 'Blessed Son of God' will unfold in the territory of Caranthir." He turned around, carrying Meereen, and together with Curufin, like hunters blending into the shadows, they sneaked towards the northeast of the mist-shrouded Shagelion area ruled by Caranthir.
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