Middle Earth: High King of The Avari

Aurion crouched in the shadows, his breath shallow and his heart hammering in his chest. He strained his ears as the door creaked open, revealing the person who had knocked. It was Eöl, his presence unmistakable. The Dark Elf strode into the room, his piercing gaze sweeping the space.

"Lossiriel," Eöl said, his deep voice steady but laced with suspicion. "Have you seen or heard anything unusual?"

Aurion's stomach twisted. The name struck him like a chord: Lossiriel. It fit her perfectly—Lady of Frost in Sindarin. He held his breath, praying she wouldn't betray him.

Lossiriel, her face calm and unreadable, regarded her father with a slight tilt of her head. "Unusual, Father? I'm not sure what you mean."

Eöl's dark eyes narrowed. "Two of my personal guards are dead. Their bodies were found near the outer edges of the forest, their bones crushed. And a hammer—one of exquisite craftsmanship—was reportedly seen with an intruder. Someone capable of such violence is no ordinary elf."

Aurion's blood turned cold. He clenched his fists to keep them from trembling, pressing his back against the wall as if he could melt into it.

Lossiriel's expression didn't waver. "That is troubling," she said evenly. "But I've seen no one suspicious, and I know nothing of such a hammer."

Eöl studied her for a long moment, his gaze searching hers. Aurion's heart threatened to burst from his chest as silence stretched between them. Finally, Eöl sighed, his face dark with frustration.

"I'm leaving for the dwarven realms," Eöl said. "Nogrod and Belegost have something I require. I'll return in a month. Until then, watch over the heart of the forest. No one must disturb my halls."

"Of course, Father," Lossiriel replied smoothly, inclining her head.

Eöl turned sharply on his heel and left the room, the door closing with a heavy thud behind him.

Aurion remained frozen in place, even as the sound of Eöl's footsteps faded into the distance. After a few moments, Lossiriel turned toward his hiding spot.

"You can come out now," she said, her voice soft but firm.

Aurion hesitated before stepping into the dim light. His muscles ached from tension, and his heart still raced. "Why didn't you tell him?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Lossiriel gave him a faint smile, the kind that hinted at mischief. "Because I don't feel like handing you over to my father. Not yet."

Aurion blinked, surprised. "You're... helping me?"

"For now," she said, her gaze steady. Then her smile faded. "But don't think you're safe. The poison from the guards' blades—it's no ordinary venom. If untreated, it will slowly kill you."

Aurion's throat tightened. He instinctively glanced at the blackened wound on his arm. "Is there a cure?"

"Yes," Lossiriel said. "But the herbs needed to make the antidote are in my father's private garden. It will take at least two years for the treatment to fully purge the poison from your system."

"Two years?" Aurion repeated, disbelief flooding his voice.

Lossiriel nodded. "You'll have to stay here if you want to survive. Leaving would be a death sentence."

Aurion's thoughts churned. He should have been angry, frustrated at this unexpected delay in his plans. Yet, despite the danger, he felt something unfamiliar—something warm. His heart beat faster, not with fear, but with something else entirely as he looked at Lossiriel.

"Why are you helping me?" he asked, his voice soft.

Her icy blue eyes locked onto his, and for a moment, she didn't answer. Then, with a faint smirk, she said, "Maybe I'm just curious about you, Aurion. You're not like the others who've served my father."

Aurion swallowed hard, trying to keep his voice steady. "Thank you. I... I'll stay."

Her smirk softened into a genuine smile, and for the first time, Aurion noticed the warmth hidden behind her frosty exterior. "Good. Let's hope you're worth the trouble."