Middle Earth: High King of The Avari

Aurion woke to suffocating darkness, his body cramped and aching. His wrists were bound tightly behind his back, and he realized he was curled into a confined space—a chest. Panic surged as he shifted, his breathing quickening in the enclosed space. The air felt stale, and his throat burned with thirst. Forcing himself to stay calm, he twisted and pushed with his legs, using his weight to nudge the lid open.

The chest creaked, and with some effort, he managed to free himself. Stumbling out, Aurion found himself in a dimly lit room. Shadows danced across the walls, cast by a single flickering lantern on a desk. His eyes immediately fell on a jug of water. His body cried out for it.

Aurion lunged toward the desk, grabbing the jug with his bound hands and tilting it to his lips. The water spilled, drenching his face and tunic, but he didn't care. He drank greedily, the cool liquid soothing his parched throat.

Just as he lowered the jug, a cold blade pressed against his neck.

"You're quite resourceful," said a voice, low and amused.

Aurion froze. He turned his head slightly, his heart pounding as his eyes met hers. It was her—the woman from before. The ethereal beauty of her platinum-blonde hair and icy blue eyes struck him again, but the sharpness of the blade biting into his skin quickly sobered him.

"You," he managed, his voice hoarse.

"Yes, me," she replied, her tone mocking. She pressed the blade harder, drawing a thin line of blood from his neck. "Now, tell me, who are you? And don't lie."

Aurion swallowed hard, his mind racing. "I... I'm Aurion," he said, his voice trembling slightly. "A lowly elf who works in your father's forge. I—I must have drunk too much last night and wandered here by mistake. I didn't mean to—"

She laughed, cutting him off. It was a sharp, melodic sound that sent a chill down his spine. "Do you really expect me to believe that?" she asked, her eyes narrowing. "A drunken elf doesn't kill two of my father's guards and carry a hammer like that."

Aurion stiffened, his stomach twisting with dread. "I—I didn't mean to kill them. They attacked me first," he stammered.

Her gaze was piercing, and she tilted her head slightly as if weighing his words. "That hammer," she said, her tone soft but dangerous, "is no ordinary tool. Its craftsmanship is on par with my father's greatest creations, which is no small feat. It doesn't belong to a mere elf like you."

Aurion's heart raced. How could she know? His mind spun as he tried to think of a way out of this. "I... It's just a hammer I found," he lied, avoiding her gaze.

She smirked, lowering the blade slightly but not letting her guard down. "You're a terrible liar," she said. "But don't worry. I'm not going to tell my father. Not yet, anyway."

Relief flooded Aurion, but it was short-lived. A knock sounded at the door, sharp and demanding.

Her expression shifted instantly, her icy eyes narrowing. She pointed the sword toward him again, though her voice was calm. "Hide. Now."

Aurion hesitated for a split second before ducking into the shadows of the room, his heart pounding in his chest as the knock came again, louder this time. The woman glanced toward the door, her expression unreadable, before turning back to where Aurion hid.

"Stay quiet," she whispered, her voice barely audible, "or you'll wish you'd stayed in that chest."

The door creaked open, and the sound of heavy footsteps filled the room as Aurion held his breath, the tension in the air thick enough to cut.