Chapter 46
The morning in the Grey Havens was chilly and wet with the salt of seawater, and solemn with the weight of parting. Círdan stood on the dock, his silver-gray hair ruffling in the breeze, as he watched Glorfindel and Meereen embark on their journey north. Carrying their simple belongings, they bid farewell to the shipwrights and soon joined the ancient paths that wound along the coast north of the Grey Havens.
The ground beneath his feet was no longer the eternal light and softness of Valinor. This was the remnant of Beleriand, scarred by the flood and the sinking of the earth. The air was crisp, a scent of pine needles, fir trees, and the salt breeze of the sea. Glorfindel slowed his pace, his golden hair gleaming in the faint light filtering through the sparse clouds. His eyes swept over the jagged black rocks that bordered the road and the distant mountains that loomed through the mist like the backs of sleeping beasts.
"This was once the border of Ossiriand," Glorfindel's voice, with a distant echo, broke the silence of the early morning, "the home of the Green Elves, the Land of the Seven Rivers. Now only Lindon, the last oasis, remains, stubbornly remaining on this broken coastline." He pointed into the distance, his eyes seemed to penetrate the fog of time and space, "A little further away is the majestic peak of Himring, the proud fortress of Fëanorion. Now only the highest peak remains, protruding from the sea like an isolated island, dyed bloody at sunset, telling of the tragedy of the past and the sorrow of the sinking." There was no excessive grief in his tone, only a calm remembrance after experiencing vicissitudes of life.
Meereen listened in silence, the soft needles beneath his feet. The scene Glorfindel described overlapped with his memories of the devastating flood at the end of the First Age.
"At the height of Morgoth's power, when darkness threatened to consume all hope," Meereen whispered, his voice like a gentle breeze through the forest, "how hard it must have been to keep the little light within you from being extinguished?" He remembered his own struggles for survival in the forest, treading on thin ice, a tiny fraction of the shadowy world. Glorfindel had faced the engulfing darkness head-on.
Glorfindel paused, his azure eyes gazing at Meereen, their gaze as deep as a sea of stars. "It's difficult, yes," he said frankly, a hint of determination curling up at the corner of his mouth. "It's like trekking through a starless and moonless night, every step potentially leading to the abyss. The shadows of fear, despair, and betrayal linger constantly. But it's in those moments that we can more clearly see the fire in our companions' eyes and hear the most instinctive call for light from the depths of our hearts. That call is the glimmer that sustains us. Just like you, Meereen," his eyes were filled with admiration. "Even in the deepest despair, the light of your soul has never truly been extinguished. This in itself is a kind of power, a power that fights against the very source of darkness."
Meereen's heart stirred, Glorfindel's words like a warm current that dispelled the chill of the morning. The two exchanged a smile, and without further words, they continued on their way. They crossed moors dotted with heather, past valleys where clear streams flowed, and the green of Lindon grew thicker and thicker. Dense forests of ancient oaks and beech trees filled the air, the fresh scent of pine and moss a stark contrast to the salty humidity of the Grey Havens, one of the Elves' most important refuges in Middle-earth.
Their destination was Forrington, north of the Bay of Shuen, the seat of Gil-galad's king. When they finally reached the city, nestled between the mountains and the sea, built of pure white stone and elven craftsmanship, the setting sun was gilding the walls with a final gilded edge. The gatekeepers, evidently informed, immediately bowed respectfully upon seeing Glorfindel and Meereen, and ushered them into the city.
Beneath the tranquility of Forrington lay a strange gloom. The streets were sparsely populated with elves, and those who did pass by were often hurried, their faces unusually pale and weary. The evening, which should have been ablaze with lights and melodious song, was now a moment of silence. An elven servant named Calian greeted them, his face a look of deep apology. "Lord Glorfindel, Lord Meereen, we are deeply sorry. Our King Gil-galad is attending to urgent matters, and I beg you to wait in the side hall."
They waited from dusk until the moon reached its zenith. Cold moonlight streamed through the tall, arched windows onto the polished stone floor of the side hall. Glorfindel closed his eyes, his breath steady. Meereen quietly observed the simple yet elegant furnishings of the hall, sensing the lingering, enervating feeling of oppression in the air. This was not the vibrant, vibrant atmosphere of an elven home.
Finally, the heavy wooden door swung open, and Gil-galad hurried in. This young High King of the Noldor inherited the majesty and beauty of his ancestors. His long hair was slightly disheveled, his clear blue-gray eyes were clearly weary, and his ornate robes were stained with dust.
"Lord Glorfindel, Lord Meereen, please forgive my neglect." Gil-galad's voice was filled with sincere apology and a hint of hoarseness. "I did not mean to neglect the messenger of the Valar, but... Lindon is troubled by an invisible shadow."
Glorfindel opened his eyes, his golden brows furrowed slightly. "We noticed something strange when we entered the city. Why are there so few elves in the city? And most of them are listless?"
Gil-galad rubbed his brow wearily and sat down on the stone bench across from them. "It was Sauron's evil plan," he said bluntly, his tone tinged with anger and resignation. "It wasn't a direct confrontation, but a more insidious invasion. About a month ago, an invisible darkness began to spread across Lindon, especially in areas near water sources and the edges of forests. It couldn't directly harm the elves' bodies, but it eroded our spirits, sapping our strength, and bringing deep fatigue and weakness. Many of my people were forced to stay at home to recuperate, struggling to maintain even daily labor and training." He clenched his fists. "This crude trick didn't break us, but it effectively slowed us down. I wanted to mobilize the army immediately and march to Eregion to support Celebrimbor and guard against Sauron's possible attack, but now even assembling a decent guard is difficult."
Meereen had been listening quietly, his brow furrowed. Now, he raised his head, his gaze clear and resolute. "Your Highness Gil-galad, this corruption... perhaps I have a way to address it."
Gil-galad looked sharply toward Meereen, a flicker of hope in his eyes. "You mean?"
"Sauron is simply exploiting the source of the Darkness's pollution," Meereen analyzed clearly. "The Elves are closely connected to nature, particularly relying on clean water and the vitality of the forests. If he had placed filthy objects—such as corpses corrupted by the Darkness or cursed evil objects—into the water sources or ley lines near Lindon, drinking from them or remaining in such a polluted environment for a long time would naturally cause sustained mental damage. This is thanks to the Elves' powerful healing abilities and natural resistance to Darkness. If humans had lived there, they would likely have been plagued by illness, even life-threatening."
Gil-galad stood up suddenly. "Your analysis is spot on! We've searched the city, but the area is limited. If there's a problem with the water source upstream..."
"Your Highness, please tell us the direction and upstream area of Lindon's main water source." Meereen said decisively.
Glorfindel also stood up. "Searching for and clearing the source may require a guard to prevent an ambush by Sauron's minions. Lord Gil-galad, the city guard is weak, but it should be possible to spare a small contingent of elite soldiers to accompany me in protecting Meereen. As for mobilizing the army and defending Eregion, I will assist you immediately once this matter is resolved."
The division of labor was quickly clarified. Glorfindel accompanied Gil-galad to select the guards who could still move and discuss subsequent military affairs. Under Calian's guidance, Meereen obtained Lindon's water map and borrowed a docile elven pony.
The next morning, at daybreak, Meereen, accompanied by Glorfindel and a small elven escort of tough veterans, rode out of Flinton and followed the map to the source of the main river that nourished Linton, an important tributary of the Rhún.
The further upstream they traveled, the more palpable the oppressive sense of weakness in the air became. The leaves at the edge of the forest, once teeming with life, had taken on an unhealthy gray-green hue, and the birdsong had become much less frequent. Meereen closed his eyes and concentrated, summoning the senses he had learned from Esti over millennia in Valinor. His mind, like invisible tentacles, penetrated the river, the soil, and the air, carefully discerning the subtle yet persistent source of the encroaching darkness.
"This way." Meereen suddenly opened his eyes and pointed to a stream that deviated from the main river and flowed deep into the dense forest. Glorfindel commanded the team to follow without hesitation.
After several miles into the dense forest, an indescribable stench began to spread, making them sick. The elves covered their noses, and even the warhorses snorted irritably. Meereen's heart sank. His perception was correct.
Pushing aside the last dense shrubs stained with an ominous black slime, the sight before them made the battle-hardened elven guards gasp. In the shallows upstream where a stream emptied into a small pond, piled the remains of several massive, decaying corpses. There were hideous ogres, their massive limbs swollen and swollen from the force of dark magic, their skin ulcerated and oozing with pus. There were also the corpses of several bat monsters with astonishing wingspans, their sharp teeth and claws a strange purple-black hue, evidently having been infused with a deadly poison. These corpses had been deliberately piled near the stream's source, their foul flesh and decaying juices seeping steadily into the clear water. The water had turned murky and black at this point, reeking of death. The surrounding vegetation had withered in large swathes, and the rocks were coated in a slippery, black moss.
"Sauron," said Glorfindel, his eyes blazing with cold fury, "for using such foul means."
Milin's face was grim, but there was no fear in his eyes, only a cold focus. He dismounted and signaled his guards to stand guard. He slowly walked to the source of the filth, ignoring the suffocating stench.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath—not the polluted air, but the healing and purifying power within him that originated from Valinor and was channeled by Esti, becoming even more refined and powerful. When he opened his eyes again, a faint, gentle, yet incomparably firm silver-green light seemed to flow in his clear pupils.
He extended his hands, palms down, aiming them at the filthy stream and its polluted source. There were no lengthy incantations, no exaggerated gestures, only a calm, mountainous concentration of will. A soft, pure, silver-green light flowed from his palms like a tangible spring, slowly covering the pile of fetid corpses and the filthy water.
Around the edges of the festering, pus-oozing wounds, the swirling purple-black filth was purified and dissipated like snow in the blazing sun! Wisps of black smoke rose from the rotting flesh and blood, screaming and annihilating in the silver-green light. The turbidity swirling in the stream seemed to be filtered by an invisible hand. The black color quickly faded, the silt settled, and the water became crystal clear again, even more translucent than before! The roots of the withered plants regained a faint vitality, and the slippery black moss on the rocks shrank, dried up, and peeled away as if burned.
The whole process was slow, and beads of sweat formed on Meereen's forehead. This required a sustained and focused output of strength. But his movements were steady and practiced, every detail precise, as if rehearsed a thousand times. Millennia of study and practice in the Garden of Lórien in Valinor, alongside Esti, had elevated his control over the life force to a whole new level. This was no longer the crude, instinctive application of the forest, but a systematic and powerful art of purification imbued with the wisdom of the Valar.
Glorfindel and the elven guards watched with bated breath, their eyes filled with wonder and awe. They could clearly feel that as the filth was cleared, the suffocating, soul-depleting dark haze in the air around them was rapidly dissipating! The long-lost fresh vitality of the forest itself began to flow again.
About half an hour later, the last wisp of black smoke vanished in the light of Meereen's palm. The piles of corpses remained, but they no longer emanated filth and curses. Only pure organic matter remained, waiting to decompose naturally. The stream gurgled, crystal clear, shimmering in the sunlight.
Milin slowly withdrew his hand, and the light faded. He panted slightly, his face pale, but his eyes bright. He walked to the stream, leaned over, scooped up a handful of clear water, and drank it without hesitation.
Sweet, pure, with the crisp scent of forest and rock. The chill that had corroded the spirit was gone.
"It is resolved." Meereen straightened up and gave Glorfindel and his guards a weary but relieved smile. "The water has been cleansed of its pollution. The source of this darkness has been eradicated."
The elves erupted in low cheers and heartfelt admiration. They quickly cleaned up the scene, buried the harmless remains, and rode back to Flinton. When the news reached them, all of Lindon seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, and the invisible pressure lifted instantly. Gil-galad personally greeted them at the palace gate, his excitement evident: "You have relieved Lindon's urgent need. The Elves of Lindon will remember this." The weakness that had plagued the elves for so many days receded from them like a tide. Although their bodies still needed time to recover, the shackles of their spirits were finally broken.
That night Gil-galad gave a simple feast to entertain the two and discuss the next steps. During the feast, Sauron and the One Ring inevitably came up again.
"Fortunately, the moment the One Ring was forged, the Elf craftsmen of Eregion, led by Celebrimbor, quickly discerned Sauron's sinister intentions." Gil-galad's expression was serious and thankful. "They acted decisively and hid and moved the three most powerful Elven rings—Veya, the Ring of Air, and Naya, the Ring of Water—away from the One Ring's control. Celebrimbor kept Naya the Ring of Fire himself, while Veya and Naya," he paused, pulling out an exquisite mithril necklace from his bosom. From it hung a simple ring inlaid with a sapphire, and another radiated the warm luster of wood, "a loyal messenger risked his life to deliver them to me and entrusted them to my care. Their power will be a vital support in our fight against darkness."
He put away the ring, his eyes heavy. "Sauron will never give up. War is inevitable. I have sent messages to distant Númenor and to Valinor, asking for aid. And your coming," he looked at Glorfindel and Meereen, "is the most powerful response to this request, and proof that the Valar have not abandoned Middle-earth."
Glorfindel nodded solemnly. "To fight Sauron and protect the free creatures of Middle-earth is our mission. When Lindon has recovered, I will accompany His Highness to Eregion and fight alongside Celebrimbor."
At this moment, a servant came in and announced: "Your Highness, Navi wants to see you. He has brought intelligence from the East."
Gil-galad said immediately, "Please come in!"
A stocky dwarf with a thick reddish-brown beard strode in. He wore sturdy leather armor and carried a heavy battle axe. He looked dusty, but his eyes were sharp as an eagle's. It was Celebrimbor's close friend, the dwarf Navi.
"Your Highness Gil-galad!" Navi's voice was loud and clear. He touched his chest and saluted. His eyes swept over Glorfindel and Meereen who were present. He especially lingered on Meereen for a moment, with a hint of curiosity.
"Navi, you've arrived just in time!" Gil-galad invited him to sit down. "This is the messenger sent by the Valar, Lord Glorfindel and Lord Meereen."
Navi bowed respectfully to Glorfindel, then looked towards Meereen with a sharp gaze. "Lord Meereen? I have heard of your name. Celebrimbor mentioned you to me. You are a friend of King Finrod, and you saved Princess Aredil in the First Age."
Meereen smiled and nodded in greeting. "Hello, Navi. How is Celebrimbor?"
"He's fine, just as busy as a mole digging holes." Navi grinned, then his face darkened again. "However, Eregion is under great pressure right now. I came here this time to bring you the latest information about 'Anata' and some intelligence from the East..." He lowered his voice, "The so-called 'Lord of Gifts' is mysterious and active near the Inner Sea of Rhone, seemingly trying to gather information about the Fenorian territory."
Upon hearing this, Meereen revealed an undisguised contempt on his face: "Anata? It's that disguise again. Sauron tried to approach me with similar means in the First Age, promising knowledge, but harboring evil intentions. After I saw through his trick, he even forcibly took me back to Angband." His tone was cold, and the memory of being coveted was not a pleasant one.
Navi slapped his thigh so hard that the cups and plates on the table jumped. "I see! No wonder, no wonder when Celebrimbor mentioned to his father, Lord Curufin, the arrival of a 'generous and knowledgeable' Mr. Anatta in Eregion, Lord Curufin's face changed drastically. He immediately warned Celebrimbor in the harshest terms not to trust this 'Anatta', saying he was more dangerous than the most poisonous spider!" Navi suddenly understood, his red beard trembling with excitement. "So Lord Curufin has known about this bastard for a long time. It was your experience that year that alerted him."
This news cheered both Glorfindel and Gil-galad. Curufin's warning had undoubtedly provided Celebrimbor and Eregion with an important safeguard. And Meereen's past experience had surprisingly played a role again, millennia later.
"This proves that Sauron's tactics, though insidious, are not invincible," Glorfindel said gravely. "Curufin's vigilance is crucial. Navi, what other news do you bring from the East?"
Navi's expression grew serious again. "Something is not right in the east, Your Highness, Lord Glorfindel. Many tribes in Rhun have become extremely xenophobic and aggressive, and some ancient trade routes have been cut off. There are also strange rumors that in the Shadow Land in the far east, someone is imprisoned in the Burning Mountain..." He scratched his head. "It sounds ridiculous, but I still feel uneasy."
Glorfindel and Meereen exchanged a quick glance. This rumor had a sinister echo to the tale they had heard from Círdan at the Grey Havens, about the blue wizard's last sighting in the east, near Mordor.
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