Middle Earth: High King of The Avari

The days had grown longer, the forest of Taur-im-Duinath shifting with the steady rhythm of time. Life in Onymë Ennorë had returned to its peaceful cadence after the many trials we had endured. Yet, even amidst the routines of leadership, I found my mind wandering back to her—Arien.

Her fiery presence had burned itself into my memory, vivid and unshakable. I wondered if I had imagined it all, some dream conjured by exhaustion and guilt. But the stag had lived, and I had seen her with my own eyes. I carried the image of her flaming hair and glowing eyes like a secret ember in my heart, one that refused to dim.

It was during one such day of wandering thoughts that I decided to hunt again, alone as before. I left the city, carrying Raumo and enough provisions for a long excursion. The forest welcomed me with its familiar embrace, the air cool and fresh.

The hunt had been uneventful, but I didn't mind. I moved through the woods more to think than to track prey. The solitude offered clarity, though today my thoughts were restless. My steps slowed as I reached the edge of a small clearing, the sunlight breaking through the canopy in golden shafts.

And there she was.

She stood in the center of the clearing, her fiery hair catching the light as though it were truly aflame. She wore the form of an elf again, her features serene yet commanding. Her eyes, burning orange like embers, turned to meet mine.

"Emlithor," she said, her voice as warm and familiar as a hearth on a cold night.

My breath caught. For a moment, I simply stared, caught between disbelief and wonder.

"Arien," I finally managed, stepping forward. "You've returned."

"I told you our paths might cross again," she said with a small smile. "Did you doubt it?"

"I wasn't sure if what I saw was real," I admitted, my voice low. "But I hoped it was."

Her smile widened, and she gestured for me to join her in the clearing. I approached, my steps careful, as though afraid she might vanish if I moved too quickly.

She sat on a fallen log, the light filtering through the leaves casting a golden glow around her. I hesitated, unsure if I should sit beside her, but she patted the space next to her invitingly.

"Tell me," she said, "what weighs on your mind?"

I laughed softly, shaking my head. "What doesn't weigh on my mind these days? There's always something. My people, the city, the alliances we're forging… and then there's you."

"Me?" she asked, raising a brow.

"You've been in my thoughts," I admitted, surprising myself with the honesty. "Ever since that day in the glade. I've never met anyone like you, Arien."

She regarded me for a moment, her fiery gaze softening. "And I've thought of you, Emlithor. Your heart is rare among the Children of Eru. It burns brightly, and that brightness drew me to you."

Her words struck something deep within me, though I wasn't sure how to respond. Instead, I turned the conversation to safer ground. "Why have you returned?"

"To learn," she said simply. "There is so much about this world I have yet to see and understand. The forests, the rivers, the stars—they all call to me. And you are a part of that."

I nodded slowly. "You'll find much to learn here, though I warn you, Taur-im-Duinath isn't without its dangers. We've had our share of hardships."

"So I've heard," she said, her tone thoughtful. "The stories of your battle with the spiders have reached even me. You showed great courage, Emlithor."

I shrugged, uncomfortable with the praise. "I did what I had to do. My people needed me."

"That is what makes you a great leader," she said, her voice gentle. "You put others before yourself, even when the cost is high."

We talked for hours, the conversation flowing as easily as the streams that wound through the forest. She asked about my people, my city, my life. In turn, I learned more about her—her connection to the Valar, her love for the light and life of Arda.

She spoke of fire not as destruction, but as renewal, a force that clears the way for new growth. Her words were poetic, almost musical, and I found myself captivated by every one.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the clearing, I realized how at ease I felt in her presence. It was as though I had known her forever, though we had only just met.

"Will you stay in Taur-im-Duinath?" I asked, the question slipping out before I could stop it.

She tilted her head, her fiery hair catching the fading light. "For a time," she said. "There is much here that interests me, and much I can teach. If you'll have me."

I laughed softly. "You're welcome here, Arien. You'll always be welcome."

Her smile was radiant, and for a moment, the worries that so often weighed on me seemed to lift.

As we parted ways that evening, I felt something new kindling in my heart. It wasn't just admiration or respect—it was something deeper, something I hadn't felt in all my long years.

Arien had stepped into my life like a flame in the darkness, and I knew, even then, that I would never be the same.