Middle Earth: High King of The Avari

The sun was low in the sky as Aurion rode through the dense forest on the borders of Nan Elmoth. The trees grew taller and darker with every mile he traveled, their twisted limbs blotting out the light. The eerie silence of the woods was broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves, a reminder that the forest was alive with unseen eyes.

Aurion's grip on Tulcanelcar, the hammer of Fëanor, tightened. Though he had left Himlad with anger burning in his heart, his purpose was clear. If he were to surpass even Fëanor in skill and legacy, he needed to seek knowledge from the greatest smiths of the world. Among them was Eöl, the Dark Elf of Nan Elmoth, whose reputation for forging unmatched weapons and armor rivaled that of the Noldor.

Yet, as the towering trees of Nan Elmoth loomed overhead, Aurion knew the danger he faced. Eöl was no friend to the Noldor, and even less so to the House of Fëanor. Revealing his lineage here would be as good as inviting his own death.

As Aurion approached the entrance to the heart of Nan Elmoth, he found his path suddenly blocked. A group of tall, shadowy figures emerged from the undergrowth, their dark cloaks blending seamlessly with the forest around them. Each carried a weapon—spears and swords crafted with a sinister beauty that made Aurion momentarily pause to admire the craftsmanship.

"Halt," one of the figures commanded, stepping forward. His voice was cold and commanding, his eyes sharp as they assessed Aurion from head to toe. "Who dares enter Nan Elmoth unbidden?"

Aurion dismounted, his movements slow and deliberate. He lowered his gaze, feigning deference. "I am but a lowly Avari," he said, his voice humble yet steady. "I have traveled far, seeking the master of these woods, Eöl The Dark Elf. I wish to offer my service in exchange for knowledge."

The leader of the group narrowed his eyes, suspicion evident in his expression. "Many come seeking Lord Eöl's wisdom, yet few are worthy of even stepping foot in his halls. What makes you think you are?"

Aurion straightened slightly but kept his tone respectful. "I have skill in the forge and the strength to wield what I create. If you doubt me, test me, and I will prove my worth."

The other followers exchanged glances, some nodding in approval while others remained wary. Finally, the leader gestured for Aurion to follow. "Very well. We shall see if your words hold weight."

Aurion was led to a clearing where a makeshift forge had been set up. A glowing anvil sat at its center, surrounded by tools and materials. The followers of Eöl formed a loose circle around him, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and skepticism.

"This will be your test," the leader said, pointing to the forge. "Craft a blade worthy of a warrior, strong and sharp enough to cut through steel. If it breaks, you will not see the halls of our lord."

Aurion nodded, hiding the flicker of amusement in his eyes. These followers had no idea who he truly was or the skill he possessed. He approached the forge, his fingers brushing over the tools as he calculated his next steps.

The task was straightforward. He worked quickly yet meticulously, his hands moving with the precision of one who had spent a lifetime honing his craft. The materials they provided were inferior to what he was accustomed to, but he compensated with technique, folding the metal with care and adding a subtle temper to strengthen the blade.

As the hours passed, the followers watched in silence, their initial doubt giving way to begrudging respect. When Aurion finally finished, he plunged the blade into a barrel of water, the hiss of steam rising like a victorious song. He held up the finished sword, its edge gleaming in the dim light of the forest.

The leader stepped forward, taking the blade and examining it closely. He tested its balance, ran a finger along its edge, and finally brought it down against a steel bar provided for the test. The blade sliced through with ease, the sound sharp and clean.

The leader's lips twitched into a faint smile. "Impressive," he admitted, handing the blade back to Aurion. "You have proven yourself. Follow us."

Aurion followed the group deeper into Nan Elmoth, the forest growing darker and more oppressive with every step. The towering trees seemed almost alive, their gnarled branches twisting toward him as if to pull him into their shadowy embrace. Despite the foreboding atmosphere, Aurion felt a thrill of anticipation.

Finally, they reached Eöl's halls—a grand yet austere structure built into the forest itself. Dark stone walls rose like cliffs, and faintly glowing veins of silver traced their surfaces, casting an otherworldly light.

Inside, the halls were dimly lit and filled with the quiet hum of activity. Elves moved through the shadows, their presence almost ghostly. At the far end of the main chamber, seated on a simple yet commanding throne, was Eöl himself.

The Dark Elf was tall and lean, his features sharp and angular. His dark hair framed his pale face, and his piercing eyes seemed to see through Aurion entirely. He rose as Aurion approached, his black robes flowing like liquid shadow.

"You have passed my followers' test," Eöl said, his voice smooth yet cold. "Few do. State your purpose, and do not waste my time."

Aurion bowed low, keeping his expression neutral. "I seek knowledge, my lord. I wish to learn from one as skilled and renowned as you."

Eöl's lips curved into a faint, humorless smile. "Knowledge is not given freely, stranger. It is earned. And you shall earn it if you are to remain in Nan Elmoth."

Aurion met Eöl's gaze, his own confidence unshaken. "I am ready, my lord."

Eöl studied him for a moment longer, then gestured for one of his followers to step forward. "Take him to his quarters. Tomorrow, we shall see if this 'Avari' is as skilled as he claims."

As Aurion was led away, he allowed himself a small, satisfied smile. He had gained entry to Eöl's halls and was now one step closer to mastering the craft he sought. Yet, beneath his calm exterior, he remained vigilant. The Dark Elf was no fool, and any misstep could reveal his true identity—a risk that could cost him everything.

For now, though, Aurion was exactly where he wanted to be.