Middle Earth: High King of The Avari

The banners of the Avari realm fluttered in the wind as Anórien and his warriors rode through the gates of the royal city. The people had gathered in droves, their cheers echoing through the streets. Children waved small flags, and the elders sang songs of victory. The news of their triumph against the spider infestation had spread quickly, and their return was celebrated as a moment of unity and hope.

Anórien dismounted at the palace steps, Solarion glimmering faintly in his hand. Arinyanénar walked beside him, his youthful face proud yet contemplative. As they ascended the grand stairs, Galadriel was waiting for them at the top, her serene expression belying the storm of emotions in her heart.

When the warriors recounted the tale of the battle, her hands tightened around the edge of her silken dress. Her relief at their victory was tempered by a growing fear—a fear for her son, whose eyes now gleamed with a fire she had seen many times before in the Noldor: the yearning for battle, for glory, and for renown.

Later that evening, as the palace grew quiet, Galadriel sought Anórien in their chambers. He was seated by the window, gazing out at the stars, Solarion resting against the wall beside him.

"You're troubled," he said without turning, sensing her presence.

She walked to him, her steps light but purposeful. "It is Arinyanénar," she said softly. "I see it in his eyes, Anórien. He burns for battle, for glory. He is so young, and already he risks his life. One day, that fire may consume him."

Anórien sighed deeply. "I see it too. He is my son, after all. That same fire burns in me." He turned to her, his golden-red eyes meeting her silver-grey gaze. "But what would you have me do, Galadriel? I cannot quench his spirit without breaking him."

"I would not ask that of you," she said. "But perhaps there is a way to temper his flame, to protect him." She gestured to Solarion. "He needs a weapon, Anórien. A weapon worthy of his strength, one that can defend him and guide him. Something as mighty as Solarion."

Anórien's expression grew thoughtful. "A weapon like Solarion is no simple task," he said. "It was forged with the blessing of my mother, Arien, and the craft of Aulë himself. Such a weapon requires power beyond our reach."

"Then seek it," Galadriel urged. "You have never been one to shy away from the impossible. If you pray to your mother, perhaps she can guide us."

That night, as the city slept, Anórien knelt in the quiet sanctity of his chambers, Solarion laid across his lap. He closed his eyes and prayed, his voice a whisper in the stillness.

"Mother, if you hear me, grant me your guidance. I wish to forge a weapon for my son—a weapon that will protect him, that will make him strong. Show me the way."

Exhausted from the day's events, Anórien eventually fell into a deep sleep. As he dreamed, a warm golden light surrounded him, and he found himself standing on a vast plain beneath a radiant sun. From the light emerged a figure, her presence both comforting and awe-inspiring.

"Anórien, my son," said Arien, her voice like the first rays of dawn. "You seek to forge a mighty weapon, one that can rival Solarion."

Anórien nodded, his voice steady. "For Arinyanénar. To protect him and guide him."

Arien's smile was tinged with sorrow. "I understand your wish, but such a task is not easily granted. When I sought Aulë to forge Solarion, I used the one favor he owed me. I cannot ask him again on your behalf."

Anórien's heart sank, but he remained resolute. "Then what can I do, Mother? How can I create this weapon?"

"Aulë has agreed to grant this boon," Arien said, "but only if Arinyanénar proves himself worthy. He must pass a test—one of Aulë's design. The trial will not be easy, and it will test his strength, his wisdom, and his heart."

"What is the test?" Anórien asked.

"That, I cannot tell you," Arien replied. "The trial will find him when the time is right. Guide him, Anórien, as only a father can. Prepare him for the path ahead, for it will not be an easy one."

Her light began to fade, and Anórien reached out. "Mother, wait! Will he succeed?"

Arien's voice lingered as the vision dissolved. "That will depend on him."

Anórien woke with the first light of dawn, his mother's words echoing in his mind. Galadriel was already awake, seated beside him. She looked at him expectantly, sensing that something had changed.

"She came to me," Anórien said, his voice low. "She told me that for Arinyanénar to wield such a weapon, he must earn it. Aulë will grant his blessing, but only if our son proves himself worthy."

Galadriel's eyes softened with both relief and worry. "Then we must prepare him, Anórien. Whatever this test may be, he must be ready."

Anórien nodded, a fierce determination settling over him. "He will be. I will make sure of it."

As the sun rose higher, casting its golden light over the Avari realm, Anórien knew that a new chapter in their journey was about to begin—a chapter of trials, of growth, and of destiny. For his son's future, he would face whatever challenges lay ahead. Together, they would forge a legacy worthy of the Avari.