Middle Earth: High King of The Avari

The campfires crackled under the canopy of stars, their light flickering against the figures of warriors preparing for the journey ahead. Denethor sat across from me, his expression thoughtful as he gazed into the flames. Though we had shared many battles and councils over the years, this moment felt heavier than most.

"I cannot thank you enough for this, Emlithor," Denethor began, his voice low but sincere. "My people are few, and this task is great. Without your aid, I fear we would have been overwhelmed before we even reached the Anduin."

I met his gaze, shaking my head. "Denethor, there is no debt between friends. You and I are allies, yes, but more than that, we share kinship and trust. Your father, Lenwë, aided my people when we needed it most. It is only right that I repay that kindness."

Denethor smiled faintly, though his eyes carried a weight of responsibility. "Even so, I am grateful. The Laiquendi are few, and though we are skilled, our numbers are no match for what lies ahead. The burden of leadership is heavy, as you well know."

"It is," I admitted, my thoughts flickering to Arien and Anórien, whom I had left behind in Onymë Ennorë. "But it is a burden we bear for the good of our people. And together, we shall succeed."

Denethor nodded, and the conversation turned to strategy as the night deepened.

The next morning, we set out at dawn. The combined force of 15,000 riders was a sight to behold, their banners fluttering in the early light. Denethor had brought 5,000 of his finest horse archers—almost all the warriors his people could muster. Despite their small numbers, the Laiquendi were formidable, their skill with the bow rivaling even the best of my own warriors.

Our journey began with a steady pace, crossing the lush plains and rolling hills of Ossiriand before reaching the towering presence of the Ered Luin, the Blue Mountains. The forested terrain gave way to rocky paths and narrow trails as we began our ascent. The horses moved carefully, their hooves striking against stone as we wound our way through the mountain passes.

By the fourth day, we descended into the vast forests of Eriador. Here, the world seemed untouched by time, the trees ancient and towering, their branches forming a canopy so dense that little light reached the forest floor. The air was alive with the sounds of birds and distant rustling, and the scent of pine and earth filled our lungs.

Denethor rode alongside me, his gaze sweeping the landscape. "Eriador is a land of great beauty," he said, his voice tinged with admiration.

"It is," I agreed. "But it hides dangers as well. We must remain vigilant."

We pressed on, riding through the forested expanse with as much speed as the terrain would allow. By the end of the day, we reached the foothills of the Hithaeglir, the Misty Mountains, their peaks shrouded in mist and cloud.

The next challenge lay before us. The Hithaeglir proved impassable, their sheer cliffs and treacherous passes denying us any hope of crossing. After consulting with my captains and Denethor, we made the decision to ride around the range. This detour cost us two days, the terrain forcing us to navigate carefully to avoid slowing our progress further.

As we emerged from the shadow of the mountains, the land opened up before us. The Anduin lay ahead, its waters glinting faintly in the distance. It was another full day of hard riding before we finally reached its banks.

The sight that greeted us brought us to an abrupt halt. Across the plains, a massive orc army was encamped, their banners dark and foreboding. Fires dotted the landscape like a malignant constellation, and the air carried the faint but unmistakable stench of decay.

Denethor's expression darkened as he surveyed the scene. "By the stars," he muttered. "We knew there would be resistance, but this… this is more than we anticipated."

I nodded, my jaw tightening. "We expected perhaps 10,000, or 15,000 at most. But this…" My voice trailed off as I counted the banners and fires, my heart sinking with each tally. "There must be 20,000, if not more."

The weight of the situation settled over us. Though our forces were skilled and swift, the sheer numbers of the enemy presented a challenge unlike any we had faced before. I turned to Denethor, his face grim but resolute.

"We must be cautious," I said. "This will not be an easy fight."

Denethor nodded, his hand tightening on the reins of his horse. "Then let us prepare. We have come this far, and we will not falter now."