Middle Earth: High King of The Avari

The dense fog of Nan Elmoth clung to Aurion like a suffocating blanket, its swirling mists wrapping around him, distorting the world into a hazy dream. He moved swiftly, guided by the faint silvery-golden glow from the Hammer of Fëanor, his only beacon in the darkness of the forest. The map he had drawn, now slightly crumpled and worn from weeks of planning, led him through the twisting paths and shadowed spaces. Every step felt like it could be his last, but he was determined. Galvorn lay ahead, and with it, the power he sought.

As he drew closer to the heart of the forest, Aurion's senses grew more attuned to the lurking dangers. He knew the guards would be close, but he hadn't expected them to appear so suddenly. From the mist emerged two dark figures—silent, swift, and intent on their mission. They moved in tandem, their eyes immediately locking on Aurion, their expressions unreadable behind their dark hoods.

Before Aurion could react, one of the guards spoke, his voice low and demanding. "Who goes there?" The question hung in the air, thick with suspicion.

Auron knew the game was over. He could not hide his intentions anymore, and he could not afford to lie to these guards. They had seen him. But neither could he allow himself to be caught. He had worked too long, spent too many years learning from Eöl to let it all slip away. Yet, in the back of his mind, he knew the consequences—if it came to it, if they attacked, he would have to kill them. He had promised himself he would not kill any elves. He did not want to stain his hands with their blood, but if it came to a choice between his life and theirs...

Without warning, the two guards lunged.

The first guard's blade sliced through the mist with precision, catching Aurion across the arm. The pain was sharp, sudden. Blood, black as night, began to drip from the wound. It was poison—the same poison the dark elves used. His vision blurred for a moment, and a wave of dizziness swept over him. His heart raced, his breath shallow.

His anger flared. The hammer in his hand, a gift and a curse, seemed to burn with a fury that matched his own. He swung it with all his might, striking the first guard with a force that sent his skull caving in, the sickening crunch of bone and flesh almost drowned out by the fury in his chest. The second guard hesitated for a brief moment, but it was enough. Aurion swung again, this time the hammer landing on his spine. The guard crumpled, his back snapping with a sickening crack. Before he could cry out, Aurion finished him with a crushing blow to the skull.

The adrenaline burned through him as he looked down at the two lifeless forms. His breath came in short gasps, and his mind reeled with the weight of what he had just done. The guilt gnawed at him. These were his kin, his people—he had not wanted this, but there was no choice. He could not let them stop him now. The bodies needed to be hidden before anyone discovered them.

Quickly, he dragged the guards' corpses into the underbrush, covering them with moss and leaves. He did not want to leave a trace of his actions. His mind was already racing ahead, reminding him that time was running out. The poison in his veins was already beginning to take hold.

An hour passed, but Aurion made little progress. The fog around him seemed to close in tighter with each step. His mind felt clouded, his thoughts fragmented. He knew the poison was working its way deeper into his body. His arm burned with an unnatural heat, and the black blood that oozed from his wound now seemed to pulse with a life of its own.

His body was betraying him. Panic began to rise in his chest. He needed to find Eöl's hall—needed to find the Galvorn formula—before the poison took full hold and claimed him.

The forest seemed to stretch endlessly before him, but at last, a shape appeared through the mist, darker and more solid than the fog around it. He had found it—the heart of Nan Elmoth. Eöl's hall. He could feel the presence of something powerful within, a strange pull that seemed to draw him toward the entrance.

Aurion took one last breath, willing himself forward, ignoring the dizziness that threatened to overwhelm him. As he stepped closer to the stone gates of Eöl's hall, his hope surged. He had made it. The forge, the secret of Galvorn—it was within his reach.

But before he could take another step, something cold and sharp pressed against his neck, freezing him in place.

A soft voice, calm and unyielding, spoke from the shadows. "Who are you, and what are you doing in my house?"

Auron's heart stopped as he looked up, only to find himself gazing into the most ethereal, beautiful face he had ever seen. The woman who stood before him seemed almost otherworldly, her platinum-blonde hair gleaming like spun starlight, her icy blue eyes piercing through him like twin blades. She was tall and slender, a perfect symmetry to her features, and she radiated a quiet strength that unnerved him.

Her skin was pale, luminous, like moonlight itself, and the white robes she wore only seemed to enhance her ethereal beauty. She was a vision—one that nearly made Aurion forget his mission.

His mouth opened to speak, but the poison was taking its toll. His vision blurred, the edges of the world fading away. The cold touch of the sword against his neck felt like a distant memory. The world spun, and before he could utter a word, everything went black.

The last thing Aurion saw before he fell unconscious was the woman's piercing gaze, her expression unreadable as she lowered her sword slightly. Then, darkness claimed him completely, and his world was consumed by the blackness of oblivion.