As the last rays of the setting sun painted the western sky, Sulond, the giant eagle, carried Luke to the Mithlond (Mithlond). This legendary port city nestled at the mouth of the River Lhûn, where the Gulf of Lhûn, shaped like a colossal arrow, pierced inland, interrupting the Blue Mountains and pointing towards Eriador.
Mithlond also marked the western terminus of the East-West Road, connecting it to Rivendell, its counterpart to the east.
The buildings of Mithlond, crafted mostly from imposing stone, clung to the cliffs on either side of the harbor. Lighthouses, the tallest structures, stood as beacons, their bright, warm glow piercing the evening mist, guiding ships from miles away.
The harbor itself teemed with vessels, from grand sailing ships to delicate boats, swaying gently in the bay, creating a picturesque scene. After surveying the harbor from above, Luke landed Sulond on the road outside the city gates.
The elves of Mithlond had already spotted the giant eagle, but as a messenger of the Valar King and a friend to their kind, Sulond evoked curiosity rather than fear.
This was a gathering point for elves seeking passage to the undying lands of Valinor, making it one of Middle-earth's most densely populated elven settlements. Noldor, Sindar, and Silvan elves mingled here.
Sulond flapped his mighty wings, stirring the harbor mist and causing the anchored ships to sway in the agitated water. As Luke dismounted, an elf with silver hair stepped forward, addressing him in the Common Tongue, "Sir, may I ask what brings you to Mithlond?"
Luke returned the elven greeting, replying in their tongue, "I am the wizard Luke. I have traveled from Hogwarts Castle at Weathertop to pay my respects to Lord Círdan."
The silver-haired elf's eyes widened in recognition. He made an elegant gesture, switching fully to Elvish.
"So it is the Lord of Amon Sûl who has arrived. Those elves who traveled west have brought tales of your legend. To see you today, you are indeed extraordinary! I am Galdor, secretary to Lord Círdan. However, you have arrived at an unfortunate time. Lord Círdan recently sailed to the Blessed Lands with a company of elves and has not yet returned."
Círdan wasn't here? Luke felt a pang of surprise. "That is truly unfortunate!" Luke expressed his regret. "Lord Elrond entrusted me with a letter for Lord Círdan, but I did not expect him to be away."
Hearing that Luke carried a letter from Elrond, Galdor's attention intensified. "Do not worry, Wizard Luke. You are welcome to stay in Mithlond for a while. At the usual rate, if nothing unforeseen occurs, Lord Círdan should return within a month or so."
"Thank you for your hospitality!" Luke replied. Although he couldn't meet Círdan immediately, he wasn't overly disappointed. His primary objective on this journey was to find the Mercury of Spirit; visiting Círdan was a secondary goal. Thus, Círdan's presence or absence made little difference to his main quest.
Accepting Galdor's invitation, Luke entered the seaside port city of Mithlond. The city boasted formidable walls, some constructed from massive stones, others carved directly from the mountainside, rendering them almost unscalable.
A strategically placed elven fortress on the cliff added to its impregnable defenses. The inner harbor was vast, capable of accommodating numerous ships, yet its exit channel, leading to Gulf of Lhûn, was narrow. Twin lighthouses on either side ensured safe passage for departing vessels. A perpetual mist shrouded the harbor, lending Mithlond an air of profound mystery.
Galdor escorted Luke to a cliffside building known as the "Boathouse," where he was to rest. Carved directly into the cliff, the Boathouse featured multiple floors and rooms, serving as a temporary abode for elves awaiting passage to Valinor. Though not expansive, the rooms were simple and elegant, embodying the distinct elven architectural style.
Each also boasted a spacious terrace, offering panoramic views of the ships below and the endless sea beyond. With night falling, Luke decided against immediately searching for the Mercury of Spirit. Instead, he settled onto the terrace, admiring the sunset and the sight of elven sailors returning to port. Sulond, the giant eagle, required no supervision; he had flown directly to the cliffs of the nearby Blue Mountains to rest.
The elves of Mithlond were predominantly Teleri, a folk deeply connected to the sea and exceptionally skilled in shipbuilding and navigation—a mastery exemplified by Círdan himself. They were known as "Shipwrights," tasked with preparing vessels for the long journey west.
The Teleri were also gifted musicians and poets; their beautiful songs often mingled with the sound of the ocean, rich with rhythm and melody. Luke sat on the terrace, captivated by the soothing symphony of the sea and the Teleri elves' songs, as if listening to nature's purest voice.
The following day, Luke walked to the docks. Elf ships bustled in and out, their sailors navigating the seas, some journeying afar, others ferrying supplies to the ports of Forlond and Harlond, situated at the opposite end of Gulf of Lhûn.
Harlond and Forlond were maritime gateways to Harlindon and Forlindon respectively, regions west of the Blue Mountains that once fell under the rule of Gil-galad, the High King of the Elves. After his fall in the War of the Last Alliance, Círdan assumed stewardship. However, Círdan retained only the title of Lord of Mithlond, choosing not to become king, thus governing only Mithlond and the Lindon region.
As the sole stronghold connecting Middle-earth to the Western Valinor, Mithlond held extraordinary significance, embodying the elves' final affections and memories of this land. This intangible attachment, woven through countless ages, had, over time, undergone a profound transformation.
Luke crouched on the circular steps of the dock, gazing at the shimmering silver water before him. He reached out, scooping a small amount into his hands. The seawater was clear and transparent, yet Luke felt the potent spiritual fluctuations contained within it—a complex tapestry of reluctance, attachment, memories, and hope.
"The elves boarded their ships here," Galdor said, appearing beside Luke, his voice soft. "Only by releasing all attachment to their homeland could they truly reach the blessed land on the other side.
Thus, for thousands of years, Gulf of Lhûn has carried the final attachments and memories of the elves who sailed west, gradually dyeing its waters silver." He sighed. "When my heart yearns to move on, I, too, will leave my memories of Middle-earth here, then sail to the Blessed Land unburdened."
Hearing this, Luke marveled at the wonder of creation. He gazed at the silver sea, his eyes alight. This was the very purpose of his journey. The seawater, imbued with the spiritual beliefs of countless elves, was the source of Spiritual Mercury, one of the three essential components for creating the Philosopher's Stone.
Of course, simply collecting a bucket of this water wouldn't suffice. Though the silver seawater now contained spiritual power, it still required extraction and purification to yield the purest Spiritual Mercury—the specific ingredient needed for the Stone.
Luke then explained his purpose to Galdor: "Secretary Galdor, would you mind if I extracted the spiritual essence from the waters of Gulf of Lhûn to create a magical material?"
Galdor looked surprised, then smiled and shook his head, indicating his consent. "Wizard Luke, please do as you wish. The emotions within this sea are too strong, and they are, in truth, a burden for us elves. If you can alleviate it, we would be grateful to you."
With Galdor's approval, Luke felt a sense of relief. He faced the sea, inserted his wand into the water, and began chanting a spell. An invisible magical force flowed from the wand tip, spreading through the water, forming unseen ripples.
The condensed memories of countless elves within the water gathered into shimmering silver stars, converging towards Luke's wand tip, finally transforming into a slender silver thread. Luke produced a crystal bottle and carefully collected the silver thread.
It swirled within, sparkling like liquid mercury infused with starlight—this was the Mercury of Spirit, the pure materialized form of spiritual power. Spirit was intangible, yet a unique place like Mithlond could accumulate such profound spiritual energy, allowing Luke to gather enough Spiritual Mercury.
Naturally, this mere wisp of Spiritual Mercury was far from enough to forge the Philosopher's Stone. He needed to collect much more, a time-consuming and tedious endeavor. As Luke drew spiritual power, the surrounding seawater quickly lost its silver sheen, reverting to ordinary water.
Galdor watched with surprise and delight. Though the silver seawater was beautiful, its intense emotions could affect any elf who accidentally fell in, making them sentimental or even extinguishing their desire to sail west. Now that Luke was draining these emotions, even if only a small portion, the effect was significant.
Galdor offered Luke a small boat, allowing him to extract Spiritual Mercury throughout the bay. Luke accepted the kind gesture, taking an exquisite little white swan boat. He politely declined the assistance of the elven sailors, instead sitting alone in the boat, controlling it with magic, and gliding across the water.
He half-leaned, stirring the water with his wand as if in play, chanting spells, and from time to time, extracting silver strands from the water, depositing them into his crystal bottle. Passing elves observed him with curious discretion, but no one disturbed his work. Luke continued until sunset.
The little white boat, as if returning to its nest, sailed effortlessly back to the dock. After a day of diligent work, a shallow layer of Spiritual Mercury had accumulated at the bottom of Luke's crystal bottle. At this rate, it would take about one or two weeks to fill the bottle. Luke, however, was immensely satisfied.
After all, without this natural "Pensieve" of Mithlond, preserving the emotions and memories of countless Elves for Middle-earth over the ages, collecting his ''Mind Mercury'' would take God knows how long?
As Luke returned to the dock with the day's harvest, a system prompt suddenly appeared before him.
[Hogwarts Sign-in System: Locating Grey Havens. Would you like to sign in?]
Luke's heart leaped. The system had finally arrived! Without a second thought, he replied, "Sign in."
A new message followed.
[Sign-in successful. Congratulations, you have obtained the Apparition skill!]
Apparition? Luke's eyes widened with delight. He never expected to receive such a powerful and versatile skill. Apparition, a magical teleportation spell, was perfect for both swift travel and life-saving escapes.
While it came with risks, such as the danger of "splinching" (splitting one's body), it was a game-changer. Unlike the Floo Network, which was restricted to connecting fireplaces, Apparition could take a wizard to any location they could clearly visualize. The more profound a wizard's magical power, the greater the distance they could travel.
However, since the spell wasn't in his spell book, Luke had never been able to master it. Now, with this new opportunity, his mobility in both travel and combat had increased tenfold. He could even apparate away from danger, instantly maximizing his chances of survival.
Luke decided that in addition to collecting the mercury from the bay, he would dedicate his time in Mithlond to mastering Apparition. Every day, he sailed the bay to collect the Mercury of the Soul and spent his nights practicing the difficult skill. Unlike Hogwarts, where professors were on hand to prevent splinching, Luke was alone. A single mistake could be fatal, so he proceeded with extreme caution.
More than a week passed, and Luke finally collected a small bottle of the luminous, quicksilver-like mercury. He carefully put it away, but didn't stop there, planning to gather a few more bottles just in case. He also began preparing for his first attempt at Apparition, even preparing some white savory essence and arranging for the elf Aldo to watch over him.
Before he could begin, Aldo approached him with news. "Wizard Luke, Lord Círdan's white ship has entered the bay and will soon dock!"
"Lord Círdan is back?" Luke asked in surprise.
At Aldo's invitation, Luke went to the dock to greet Círdan. A crowd of elves had already gathered, a testament to Círdan's high standing among his people. Luke, led by Aldo, stood at the front as a massive white sailboat emerged from the horizon. The ship was a magnificent work of art, with a swan-shaped prow, white oars, and silver-woven sails. It blended seamlessly with the white waves, appearing as if it was born from the sea itself. Luke stared in awe.
This was no ordinary ship. Since Ilúvatar had shaped Middle-earth into a sphere, Valinor, once a physical place across the sea, had been moved into another dimension. Only a straight path could lead a traveler there, but Círdan's legendary white ships could carry elves directly to this ethereal realm. The man who crafted such a divine vessel, Círdan, was truly extraordinary.
As the ship drew near, Luke saw an elf standing on the bow. He was tall and dressed in a dark blue robe. What stood out was his long, gray beard, an uncommon sight among elves who retained their youthful appearance. Luke knew this elf had to be incredibly ancient, far older than even ancient elves like Galadriel or Elrond. This was Círdan the Shipwright, Lord of Lindon and Mithlond.
Luke had heard of Círdan from Elrond, who said he was the eldest of all the elves in Middle-earth, one of the first to awaken. As Círdan stepped off the ship, his secretary, Galdor, greeted him.
"Lord Círdan, welcome back. Was your journey smooth?" Galdor asked respectfully.
Círdan smiled calmly. His eyes, bright as stars, and his handsome face were a stark contrast to his long gray beard, which spoke of a life filled with unimaginable history.
"Everything went smoothly," he said. "Aside from a visit from a group of mermaids, the seas were peaceful. What about Mithlond? Has anything happened recently?"
Galdor introduced Luke. "My lord, this is Luke, the Black Wizard. He is the Lord of Amon Sûl and has come to visit you, bringing a letter from Lord Elrond."
Luke stepped forward and bowed politely. "Lord Círdan, I've heard much about you. It's an honor to meet you."
Círdan's eyes twinkled with a warm, knowing smile. "Though we have never met, I have heard of your deeds. Lord of Dragons, Slayer of Orcs, Bane of Fire-Lords.... Gandalf, Elrond, and Lady Galadriel all spoke highly of you, saying your arrival marks a new dawn in Middle-earth."
"The rumors are exaggerated. Gandalf and the others are too kind," Luke replied, feeling a bit embarrassed.
"No need to be modest," Círdan said, his eyes full of admiration. "I have hosted five wizards here before, but only in Gandalf and you have I felt a sense of responsibility and purpose far greater than in any other. This is not a compliment, but the limited insight of an old man who has lived long enough."
Luke was momentarily stunned. A heavy responsibility? A mission? He had no idea what Círdan was talking about. He quickly handed over Elrond's letter. Círdan read it, then smiled at Luke.
"Elrond has already told me in his letter that you wish to extract the soul quicksilver water from the bay," he said. "You are welcome to continue your work here. If you need any help, don't hesitate to ask me or Galdor."
"Thank you, Lord Círdan. I would be glad to help you in any way I can," Luke replied.
Círdan then invited Luke to his residence. Luke readily accepted.
Círdan's residence was a simple palace resembling a dock, complete with a small private shipyard. A small, exquisite white swan boat was moored at a private dock, and in the shipyard, an unfinished ship sat waiting. Inside the reception hall, two ship models were displayed in crystal bottles. One was a model of the white ship Luke had just seen, and the other had golden oars.
Luke looked at the second model, fascinated. "Lord Círdan, which ship is this a model of? It looks so perfect."
Círdan's face lit up as he spoke of his passion. "This is the Vingilot, which I built with Eärendil. It has golden oars and silvery sails. It carried Eärendil and his wife across the sea, through the enchanted isles and the Shadow Sea, until they finally reached the Blessed Realm."
Círdan pointed to the Star of Eärendil in the sky. "It has long been consecrated by the Valar and sails across the sky every day."
Luke was amazed. Not only had Círdan built a ship that could reach Valinor, but he had also created a vessel that sailed among the stars. It was clear that despite being a lord, Círdan was a pure shipbuilder at heart.
Luke, seeing Círdan's deep love for shipbuilding, had a sudden thought. Círdan's ships were all made of wood. What if he knew about steamships and diesel engines?
An image popped into Luke's mind: a steel cruise ship with smoke belching from its chimney, carrying a group of elves as it blared its horn on its way to Valinor. He couldn't help but laugh out loud at the absurdity of the mental image.
Luke seized the opportunity to discuss shipbuilding technology with Círdan. Círdan, a master craftsman, generously shared all his knowledge, holding nothing back.
"Lord Círdan," Luke began, "when sailing the sea, the ship's sturdiness is paramount. Wood is fragile. Have you ever considered using steel instead?"
"How could that be?" Círdan instinctively started to shake his head in amusement, finding the idea of steel ships absurd. "Steel is heavy; it can't possibly float on water..." But then he stopped abruptly, stunned. His eyes widened, and sparks of insight seemed to flash within them, as if a mental barrier had shattered.
Countless new ideas and inspirations flooded his mind. He quickly gripped Luke's hand, his voice filled with excitement: "Luke, tell me more about this steel ship! My intuition tells me this is the future of shipbuilding, but my vision is clouded, and I can't quite see it!"
Luke hadn't expected such an enthusiastic reaction from Círdan. Was this the depth of his passion for shipbuilding? He nodded immediately. "Lord Círdan, do you have any iron here? I need it for a demonstration."
"Yes! Please, follow me!" Círdan eagerly pulled Luke towards his private shipyard, where a pile of metal awaited. Under Círdan's expectant gaze, Luke raised his wand and, drawing on his memories, transformed the metal. A large piece of iron kneaded and deformed like clay, gradually taking the shape of a small, ten-meter-long steel vessel.
Luke then levitated it into the deep water of the nearby private dock. The small steel boat floated steadily, proving that despite its weight, it wouldn't sink. Círdan's eyes lit up as if he had just discovered a priceless treasure.
"Can I go aboard?" Círdan asked, his voice trembling with excitement as he stared at the steel ship.
"Of course!" Luke smiled, then conjured a gangway between the ship and the dock. Círdan immediately walked aboard, his enthusiasm overriding any caution. Luke followed him onto the steel vessel.
Círdan touched the hull, examining its structure like a fascinating new toy. Finally, a frown creased his brow as he noticed something. "Although this iron ship is strong, it's also too heavy. Using oars to propel it would be incredibly laborious and cumbersome, making it hardly worth the effort."
Luke smiled. "Since the ship is heavy, we can use a more powerful form of propulsion than oars."
Círdan no longer viewed Luke as merely a junior wizard but as a visionary and gifted shipbuilder. He looked at Luke expectantly. "What are your ideas?"
Luke didn't answer directly. Instead, he asked, "Lord Círdan, have you ever seen water boiling? When the steam rises, it pushes the lid of a teapot upwards. Even with tremendous force, it cannot be suppressed..."
Círdan's wisdom was profound, and his eyes gleamed as he listened to Luke's words. He immediately grabbed a teapot, filled it with water, and placed it on the stove to boil. As the water boiled and the steam pushed the lid open, Círdan's eyes grew brighter and brighter. He even tried to hold the lid down with his hand, but he felt a powerful force pushing against him.
"I never imagined that boiling water could generate such power! If we could install a huge 'teapot' on a steel ship, seal the air outlet, and continue to boil water, the power generated would be enough to propel even a heavy steel ship, and perhaps make it faster than any wooden vessel!" Ideas and inspirations surged through Círdan's mind. Without further prompting from Luke, he began to design the prototype of a steamship.
"Luke, you truly are a genius!" Círdan exclaimed, looking at Luke with admiration. "Now I understand why Gandalf and the others spoke so highly of you. Your insights will change the entire history of navigation!" He then made an offer: "Perhaps you could stay in Mithlond and learn shipbuilding from me. Together, we could design and build a giant steel ship! It would surely surpass all my previous works!"
Faced with Círdan's passionate invitation, Luke had to decline. He knew his own limitations. These discoveries were the culmination of thousands of years of human ingenuity from his previous life; he was merely a conduit of knowledge. If he were to actually implement them, he would likely be no better than an ordinary boatman. Besides, he barely had enough time to practice magic as it was, let alone learn shipbuilding.
Círdan was somewhat disappointed by Luke's refusal. He felt Luke possessed a natural talent for shipbuilding, and with his brilliant ideas, he could become the next "Shipbuilding King," inheriting Círdan's legacy. Círdan had long felt the call of Valinor, yearning for the peace of the Undying Lands. However, his unparalleled shipbuilding skills, allowing him to construct vessels that could safely reach Valinor, meant the Valar had tasked him with remaining in Middle-earth to guide the elves westward until the last of them had departed.
Now, having met someone with such a fresh perspective on shipbuilding, Círdan felt it might be possible to train a successor, or even someone more skilled than himself, to take over his vital role.
Despite his disappointment, Círdan did not press the matter. In the following days, he dedicated most of his energy to researching steam engines, determined to develop one powerful enough to propel giant steel ships. Luke didn't interfere further, confident that with Círdan's wisdom, building a steam engine would be no problem.
In addition to continuing his daily collection of the Mercury of the Soul, Luke began his first serious attempts at Apparition. He specifically asked Galdor to observe him, ready to reassemble his body in case of splinching. Hearing this, Círdan also set aside his work to watch Luke perform the teleportation magic.
In an open space provided by Círdan, Luke stood in the center, drawing and marking circles on the ground. Círdan and Galdor stood quietly nearby. Luke entered the circle, attempting to calm his mind. Apparition required three principles: destination, determination, and deliberation. Timidity or hesitation could easily lead to splinching, where parts of the body appeared in different places. If not quickly repaired, this could result in permanent disability or even death.
Luke raised his wand, his eyes fixed on another circle a short distance away. He focused his entire consciousness on his target. He made up his mind, letting the thought of reaching that spot fill his body and mind. Then, he spun in a circle on the spot as if dancing.
With an almost inaudible pop, Luke's figure instantly vanished from the first circle. The next second, he reappeared in the second. For his first Apparition, Luke only felt a slight discomfort, as if his body had been squeezed through a narrow rubber tube. The surroundings blurred into rapidly spinning colors and noise; his vision and hearing were momentarily disoriented before he was quickly expelled.
"Success?" Luke mumbled, looking at his new position, a bit confused.
Suddenly, he heard a gasp from Galdor . Following Galdor's nervous, worried gaze, Luke realized his left arm was still in the first circle. Seeing the separation, Luke remained calm. He quickly cast a spell to summon his arm, then positioned it against the torn flesh and repaired it with another incantation. Soon, his arm was back to normal, without any lasting damage.
The splinching wasn't severe. After repairing himself, Luke tried Apparition again, teleporting from the second circle back to the first. This time, he carefully examined his body and found no missing parts.
From then on, Luke no longer confined himself to the two circles but continuously apparated throughout the venue. As he grew more proficient, he never experienced splinching again. With a soft crack in the air, Luke appeared out of thin air before Círdan and Galdor. He smiled sincerely and thanked them. "My magic is almost perfected. Thank you both for safeguarding me!"
Círdan smiled and shook his head. "No need for thanks. We didn't do much, but it was a rare opportunity to witness such astonishing teleportation magic. It truly opened our eyes!" Galdor nodded in agreement, still amazed.
In the blink of an eye, several months passed. Luke had collected enough Mercury of the Soul from the Bay of Lhun. The once silvery bay had now become shallow and diluted; the accumulated emotions and memories of the elves, gathered over countless ages, had almost entirely been extracted by Luke.
Even if the elves of Mithlond put their hands into the water, they could barely feel the influence of the strong emotions. Perhaps it would take another few thousand years for the seawater here to turn silver again. But by then, elves would long have become legends, and none would come here to sail on white ships to the Undying Lands. Having collected the Mercury of the Soul, Luke's mission in Mithlond was complete.
As Luke prepared to bid farewell to Círdan, Círdan sought him out first with exciting news: the steamship The Rauda Nórë was finished. Luke was surprised. Who would have thought Círdan could create a steam engine so quickly? He hurried to the shipyard in Mithlond, where many elf craftsmen were gathered, observing a massive machine.
Círdan, beaming with pride, led Luke to the massive machine. "This," he announced, "is the steam engine I designed after a month of intense meditation. It's crafted entirely from refined iron with a touch of mithril. It works by burning fuel in the boiler, which heats the water to produce high-temperature, high-pressure steam. This steam then pushes a piston, causing it to move back and forth. This motion, coupled with a crankshaft and gear drive, transmits power to a propeller at the stern, propelling the vessel through the water."
Luke gazed at the colossal steam engine in awe. If not for the elves surrounding him, he might have believed he had been transported back to the Age of Steam. Curious about its fuel, he watched as Círdan produced a glowing red gem. Círdan chanted an Elven spell, and the ruby pulsed with brighter, more intense heat.
He then placed the gem into the furnace beneath the boiler. Mysterious red runes appeared on the furnace, and with the gem as its core, a blazing fire ignited. As the flames burned, the water in the boiler quickly reached boiling point, and the machine began to hum into operation.
Luke stood captivated, watching the steam engine puff and hiss. The elf craftsmen around them were equally stunned, their faces a mix of shock and joy. Their traditions had always been ancient, but this steam engine shattered their understanding, hinting at a new era. Círdan, the creator, looked at his masterpiece with immense satisfaction and pride.
"Luke," he said, turning to him, "this steam engine came from your inspiration. Please, give it a name." The other elf craftsmen looked at Luke expectantly.
Luke didn't refuse. He smiled, looking at the rumbling engine. "Then let us call it the Rauda Nórë."
"Golden Fireship?" Círdan nodded in agreement. "Rauda Nórë' is indeed an apt name!" He continued, "Then the steel ship built with this steam engine will also be called the Rauda Nórë!"
In the days that followed, Círdan worked alongside other elven craftsmen to construct a colossal steel ship, with the steam engine at its core. Luke, having completed his mission, formally bid farewell to Círdan. Círdan tried to persuade him to stay longer, but his efforts were in vain.
Before Luke departed, Círdan presented him with a beautiful swan boat he had personally built. This swan boat carried Círdan's blessing; it was not only light and strong but could also glide across the water as if on solid ground, truly unsinkable. Luke placed the swan boat into his spatial bag, intending to leave it on the Black Lake when he returned to Hogwarts.
With Círdan's permission, Luke also connected Mithlond's hearth to the Floo Network and gave Círdan a bottle of Floo powder. Círdan welcomed the Floo Network's connection, noting it would greatly ease the journey for elves traveling to Mithlond from Rivendell, Lothlórien, and the Woodland Realm, saving them long and perilous trips.
The giant eagle, Sulond, had thoroughly enjoyed himself during Luke's stay, having been largely ignored. He spent his days soaring over the sea, exploring its depths, flying out at sunrise and returning at sunset, even catching large fish. Now that Luke was leaving, Sulond seemed reluctant to depart.
Luke patted him. "It's alright, you can come anytime you wish in the future. The distance from Weathertop to here isn't far for you, is it?" Sulond tilted his head, seeming to ponder this, then, no longer reluctant, took flight, carrying Luke away from Mithlond. However, Luke and Sulond did not return the same way but continued flying west.
While Luke's primary objective for this journey was to collect the Mercury of the Soul, his secondary purpose was to trigger the sign-in system at other key locations. This coastal region, besides Grey Havens, boasted two other elven ports on the northern and southern shores of the westernmost part of the Lune Bay: Harlond Port and Forlond Port. These two ports, only a few hundred miles from Grey Havens, presented prime opportunities for sign-ins.
Sulond soon carried Luke to Forlond Port on the north shore of Lune Bay. Forlond Harbor was an important port of the Kingdom of Lindon, primarily inhabited by the Noldor Elves.
The Noldor, known as "Karakundí" or Light Elves, had once followed Finwë to Valinor and bathed in the radiance of the Two Trees, thus carrying a faint glow about them. However, due to the conflict over the Silmarils, some Noldor, including Galadriel, had returned to Middle-earth under Fëanor's leadership.
The Noldor were arguably the most influential of the Elves in Middle-earth, their history spanning epochs and filled with legends and entanglements. After initially awakening on the shores of Lake Cuiviénen, the Noldor, led by Finwë, embarked on a migration to Valinor at the invitation of the Valar. They ultimately bathed in the light of the Two Trees and became the first Elves to settle in the West.
But after Finwë's son Fëanor created the Silmarils, Morgoth killed Finwë and stole the Silmarils, igniting the Noldor's thirst for vengeance. Fëanor defied the Valar's ban, leading some Noldor elves into exile in Middle-earth and initiating a long war with Morgoth, which triggered a series of later conflicts. Among elves, the Noldor were considered warlike, possessing strong will and immense pride, perfectly embodied by Princess Galadriel.
Galadriel also defied the Valar's ban, joining the Noldor in leaving Valinor and waging war against Morgoth. After Morgoth's defeat and Sauron's rise, she still organized the White Council and spearheaded the fight against Sauron's forces. Because of her immense pride, she even refused the Valar's forgiveness, choosing to remain in exile in Middle-earth rather than return to Valinor.
Additionally, the Noldor were renowned for their wisdom, prodigious memory, and pursuit of knowledge, excelling in forging, metallurgy, and gem crafts. Items like the Silmarils, the Stone of True Knowledge, the Three Rings, and even famous Elf Swords were all creations of the Noldor.
When Sulond appeared over Forlond Harbor, the Noldor elves below watched the giant eagle and Luke with vigilance. Luke didn't allow Sulond to land, instead using Apparition to appear on the ground.
"Who are you?" a black-haired Noldor Elf stepped forward and asked.
"I am Luke, the black wizard of Amon Sul. I have just returned from visiting Lord Círdan, Lord of Mithlond. I have heard of the great reputation of Forlond Haven and have come here to visit," Luke replied, speaking in fluent Quenya.
Quenya was the language of the Noldor, but in Middle-earth, due to the wider popularity of Sindarin, Quenya gradually became more of a written or ceremonial language. Even in daily Noldor communication, Sindarin was more commonly used.
The black-haired elf's eyes flickered with surprise upon hearing Luke's Quenya, and his attitude softened slightly. He immediately switched to Quenya himself: "You speak Quenya very well."
"Thank you, my teacher taught me well," Luke said with a smile, a hint of tenderness unconsciously appearing in his eyes. His Elvish languages, both Sindarin and Quenya, were taught by Arwen. The black-haired elf noticed the change in his expression, and seeing the Evenstar necklace hanging on his chest, he immediately formed some guesses.
"I am Myrgon, the governor of Forlond Harbor. Your name, Wizard Luke, is known even in the far west of this continent. Now I see that you truly live up to your reputation."
"Governor Myrgon, thank you for your kind words!" Luke replied politely.
Myrgon then invited Luke to visit the Governor's House, and Luke readily agreed. As a port city inhabited by the Noldor, Forlond Harbor's architecture was characteristically Noldor: both gorgeous and exquisite.
The walls and terraces were white, the windows made of crystal, the streets paved with white pebbles, and even the beach was white. The overall visual effect was one of holiness and radiance. The household utensils were also incredibly exquisite, each appearing as a work of art. Luke couldn't help but marvel; the Noldor truly were the most skilled of elves, their pursuit of beauty reaching its zenith.
During their conversation, Luke learned that Myrgon had once been one of High King Gil-galad's personal guards. In the War of the Last Alliance, the Noldor, including Gil-galad, suffered heavy losses. Myrgon was one of the few surviving Noldor.
After Gil-galad's fall, Círdan became the leader of the Kingdom of Lindon. However, because Círdan was a Teleri Elf and the lord of Mithlond, the Havens of Forlond, where the Noldor lived, maintained a certain degree of autonomy.
However, the Port of Forlond had gradually declined. After the War of Wrath in the First Age and the Battle of the Last Alliance in the Second Age, the Noldor of Lindon were severely weakened and slowly faded from Middle-earth, becoming increasingly disengaged from its affairs. Coupled with their longing for their homeland of Valinor, more and more elves answered the call of the sea, heading to Mithlond to cross over.
The number of Noldor remaining in Lindon dwindled, and even Myrgon, the lord of Forlondhaven, had begun to consider crossing the sea. He planned to wait for the last elves from Forlondhaven to leave before joining them on the journey.
"Wizard Luke, I heard that the divine spear Aeglos is in your hands. Is this true?" Myrgon suddenly asked at the end of their conversation.
Seeing Myrgon's expectant look, Luke nodded, took the divine spear Aeglos from his spatial bag, and handed it to him. Myrgon took the spear, his expression fluctuating, and he sighed with reminiscence in his eyes.
"Aeglos, meaning 'Snowy Peak,' was once the culmination of the wisdom and craftsmanship of many Noldor artisans, forged from meteoric iron and mithril from the stars. We tried to find it in the past but found nothing. I never thought I would see it today."
As he stroked the spear, a look of profound relief appeared on his face, as if his last obsession had been resolved. He seemed even more ethereal, almost isolated from the world. He returned the spear to Luke, and with a relieved smile, he thanked him.
"Thank you for fulfilling my last wish. I have already felt the call from the sea. I am afraid I will have to go before the last group of my people leaves."
Hearing Myrgon's words, Luke was momentarily stunned, then offered his congratulations. "Congratulations in advance!"
At that moment, the system also provided a prompt:
[Hogwarts Sign-in System: Locating Forlond Harbor. Do you want to sign in?]
Luke's heart stirred, and he silently muttered, "Sign in."
Hufflepuff's Gold Cup
[Successful sign-in! Congratulations on obtaining the Hufflepuff Gold Cup Alchemy process!]
A wave of new knowledge flooded into Luke's mind, bringing with it a surge of excitement. He now possessed the alchemy process for both the Ravenclaw Diadem and the Hufflepuff Cup, two revered relics of Hogwarts' founders. The Gryffindor Sword was indestructible, capable of absorbing magical substances and growing infinitely. The Ravenclaw Diadem bestowed wisdom upon its wearer. And now, the golden cup of Helga Hufflepuff revealed its secrets.
According to the lore of its making, the Hufflepuff Gold Cup held potent purification and healing abilities. More importantly, it could absorb and store magical energy, even nourishing its user's magic. It also possessed a magical effect related to food: while it couldn't conjure delicious meals from thin air, a small portion of food and fine wine placed within it would continuously multiply, allowing many to eat and drink their fill. These conjured delicacies and wines even contained magical properties, nourishing the user's body. Though the effect might be subtle at first, consistent use would yield immense benefits over time. This magical nourishment was rumored to be why Madam Hufflepuff lived the longest of the four Hogwarts founders.
Luke was highly satisfied with this sign-in reward. He now had the means to create both the Ravenclaw Diadem and the Hufflepuff Cup, two powerful magical artifacts, and he was eager to begin. However, he knew he couldn't rush and decided to set them aside for the moment.
Having completed the sign-in at Forlond Port, Luke would typically have departed. However, at Governor Myrgon's invitation, Luke decided to extend his stay for a few days. He was particularly interested in the forging technology of the Noldor. The Noldor were renowned for their exquisite craftsmanship and their relentless pursuit of perfection in jewelry and weaponry, having created legendary treasures such as the Silmarils, the Three Rings of the Elves, and the Crystal of True Knowledge.
With many Noldor craftsmen gathered here in Lindon, it was an ideal opportunity for Luke to learn. He already possessed some Elven crafting knowledge, but who could resist the chance to expand it? By combining the crafts of the Noldor with his existing skills, he hoped to further enhance his smithing abilities.
The Noldor craftsmen, in turn, were impressed by Luke's own extraordinary forging skills, especially when they witnessed his flaming sword and its seemingly infinite growth properties. They engaged in friendly discussions, exchanging insights and techniques.
A month quickly passed. Though Luke felt he had gained much, time was pressing, and he needed to continue his journey. After bidding farewell to Myrgon and the Noldor craftsmen, Luke mounted Sulond and flew to Harlond Haven, located on the south bank, directly opposite Forlond.
If Forlond Harbor was the gathering place of the Noldor elves, then Harlond Harbor was the settlement of the Sindar. Unlike the Noldor—who were more "warlike," skilled in forging and metallurgy, and known for their proud and persistent characters—the Sindar elves were closer to nature. They excelled in music, poetry, and woodland survival, their cultural style being more elegant and subtle.
As Luke put it, the Noldor elves were like science students, while the Sindar elves were more akin to liberal arts students. Furthermore, the Sindar elves were those who had never reached Valinor and had never witnessed the Two Trees, leading them to be sometimes called Dark Elves. This designation didn't imply evil; it simply meant they had not seen the Light of the West.
Harlond Port and Forlond Port were situated across Lune Bay from north to south, a short distance apart. Luke quickly rode Sulond to the southern harbor and then used Apparition to teleport directly from high altitude to the ground.
Harlond Port differed greatly from the dazzling, white architecture of Forlond. Its overall style was more natural, with abundant vegetation and blooming flowers covering the port, making it resemble a coastal garden city. Luke's appearance drew the attention of the port's elves.
However, unlike the naturally aloof and sharp Noldor, the Sindar elves were more reserved and gentle. Seeing that Luke was not a hostile visitor, they simply observed him curiously, not approaching him directly.
As Luke entered the city, a silver-haired male elf approached him politely. "You are Wizard Luke, right? Welcome to Harlond Harbor. I am the Governor of this place, Calenor. I heard a few days ago that a wizard had come to Grey Havens, but I didn't expect to see you so soon."
Seeing the visitor's friendly demeanor, Luke smiled and nodded. "Hello, Governor Calenor. I'm Luke. I was curious about the scenery of Harlond Harbor, so I came here specifically to take a look. I hope I haven't disturbed the peace here."
Calenor smiled faintly and shook his head. "You are too polite, Wizard Luke. You are Lord Círdan's guest of honor, and naturally also a distinguished guest of our Harlond Harbor. If you don't mind, allow me to introduce you to the scenery here, Wizard Luke."
Luke looked flattered. "If it's no trouble at all, it would be my honor!"
Then, guided by the Governor of Harlond Harbor, Luke began to tour this port city where the Sindar resided. Unlike the more autonomous Noldor elves in Forlond on the north shore, the Sindar elves in Harlond were more willing to accept Círdan's rule and had more frequent exchanges with Mithlond. This explained why Governor Calenor treated Luke, a wizard valued by Círdan, with such courtesy.
Harlond Port exuded an elven artistic ambiance. Melodious instruments could be heard everywhere, and beautiful ballads, telling tales of ancient history, love, and nature, drifted from the depths of the forest. Various handicrafts made of wood and silver were also on display. As Luke followed Calenor, appreciating the diverse sights of Harlond Port, he finally received the anticipated system prompt.
[Hogwarts Sign-in System: Locating Harlond Harbor. Do you want to sign in?]
"Sign in," Luke murmured silently, his face expressionless.
[Successful sign-in! Congratulations on obtaining the magical portrait making process!]
The Magic Portrait and a Brief Art Lesson
A magic portrait? Luke was surprised. He hadn't expected to receive this from his sign-in this time. In the wizarding world, magic portraits were works of art imbued with special enchantments. The figures within them weren't static images but beings with independent consciousness and personality, capable of movement and communication. Hogwarts Castle itself was filled with such portraits, like the Fat Lady guarding the Gryffindor common room or the previous headmasters' portraits in the Headmaster's office, who might pretend to sleep while secretly observing.
These portraits could even visit each other, moving from one frame to another. They were a key feature of Hogwarts, sometimes serving as surveillance or message delivery systems. They were, in essence, independent personalities, with their own consciousness and social circles, merely confined to painted canvases. While Luke wasn't disappointed by this new acquisition, a single problem emerged: he couldn't draw!
Creating a magical portrait required at least some painting skill combined with magic. Without artistic ability, who knew what bizarre, terrifying images might result?
"Governor Calenor," Luke inquired, "are there any skilled painters here?" He reasoned that since the Sindar elves excelled in the linguistic and poetic arts, they should also have some knowledge of painting.
Calenor nodded. "Painting is one of our clan's important skills; most elves possess some knowledge of it. Does Wizard Luke wish to commission a painting?"
"Not exactly," Luke smiled and shook his head. "It's mainly that I'm interested in painting myself and would like to find an artist to learn the techniques."
Calenor understood immediately and readily agreed to help Luke find a painting teacher. So, Luke temporarily stayed in Harlond Harbor. Under Calenor's introduction, he began to learn painting from an elf with superb artistic skills. Given elves' long lifespans, they accumulated immense skill; almost any elf could teach Luke, a novice painter. There was no need to waste the talent of an extraordinary painter on such basic instruction.
Nevertheless, the instruction yielded significant results. Under the elf painter's guidance, Luke made remarkable progress, quickly grasping the fundamentals of painting. In just over a month, Luke became quite proficient. Although the elf painter remarked that his work was too mechanical and lacked aesthetic value, Luke himself was quite satisfied. After all, it was a rapidly acquired skill, and being able to draw realistically was good enough. As for the lack of "spirit" or dullness, once magic brought the portraits to life, they would surely be even more "vivid" than any master's painting! With the elf painter's pitying gaze, Luke officially concluded his painting lessons.
To thank the elf painter for his patient instruction, Luke presented him with a small alchemical product he had crafted in his spare time: a brush that could paint in a variety of colors. With an infusion of magic, it could even briefly bring objects in his paintings to life. The elf painter was delighted with the gift and promised Luke he could consult him anytime with painting questions. For Governor Calenor, who had facilitated the introduction, Luke gave a piece of mithril as a token of his gratitude.
Then, Luke formally said his goodbyes, mounted the giant eagle Sulond, and flew directly back east. It had been nearly a year since he had left home. He planned to return to Weathertop first, and then journey south to the Death Road in the White Mountains to search for the Sulfur.
They flew over the Blue Mountains, passed the Shire, the Old Forest, and the Barrow Hills. Finally, after crossing the town of Bree, the familiar outline of Weathertop Castle and its towering spire came into view. Weathertop's splendor remained undimmed.
The two giant trees, one gold and one silver, shimmered brilliantly under the sun, casting golden and silver hues upon the castle. A flock of pristine white snowy owls circled the sky, like soft white clouds adorning the fortress. As soon as they spotted the arrival of the giant eagle and Luke, they all immediately flew towards them. The great snowy owls chirped happily and surrounded Sulond, as if welcoming the return of their king.