Middle Earth: High King of The Avari

The forest stood in silent reverence as Onymë Ennorë was completed. Fifty years of labor, ingenuity, and unwavering determination had transformed the heart of Taur-im-Duinath into a bastion of beauty and strength. The city, encircled by the flowing waters of its moat, gleamed like a pearl nestled within the ancient forest.

The palace of Calamórë, the Shining Dawn, rose above all, its towers reaching toward the canopy of stars. It was a masterpiece of stone and light, a testament to what the Avari could achieve when united. The white stone walls caught the faint glow of Telperion's light filtering through the trees, and its golden spires sparkled like the first dew of morning.

As I stood upon the highest balcony of the palace, overlooking the city, my heart swelled with pride and gratitude. The streets below were alive with activity as the tribes gathered, their laughter and song filling the air. This was no longer just a settlement—it was a home.

The day of my coronation dawned clear and bright, the light filtering through the forest canopy in streams of silver and gold. It was a day long in coming, though I had never sought such a title. My thoughts drifted back to Cuiviénen, to the shores we had left behind, and to the faces of those who had once walked beside me.

Finwë's face came to mind, as it often did in quiet moments. What would he think if he could see us now? Would he marvel at what we had built, or would he mourn that we had chosen this path instead of the one laid by Oromë? I would never know, for our paths had diverged irrevocably when he left for Valinor.

But there was no room for doubt today.

The ceremony began at midday, with the lords of the six tribes assembling in the great square before Calamórë. Each lord stood tall and proud, representing the strength and uniqueness of their people.

Arvaran, lord of the Kindi, brought a scroll inscribed with the history of our journey, a reminder of the wisdom that bound us to our past.

Nendril, lord of the Cuind, carried a quiver of arrows, a symbol of the hunters who ensured our survival.

Calerion, lord of the Kinn-Lai, offered a silver lyre adorned with delicate carvings, its strings gleaming in the sunlight.

Theramar, lord of the Hwenti, presented a hammer, its head engraved with runes of strength and resilience.

Selwë, lord of the Windan, brought a map etched onto a sheet of fine bark, marking the paths and trails they had scouted.

And Erilwen, lady of the Penni, held a wreath of green leaves and white flowers, a symbol of healing and hope.

They placed their offerings before me, each bowing their head in respect. I stood before them clad in white and gold, Raumo slung across my back, its presence a constant reminder of the path I had chosen.

Arvaran stepped forward, his voice clear and steady. "Emlithor, descendant of Enel and Enelyë, you have led us through the darkness of the unknown and into the light of a new beginning. It is by your courage and wisdom that we have built this city, by your strength that we have found peace. We, the lords of the six tribes, stand united in our decision."

He paused, and the gathered crowd seemed to hold its breath. "We name you King of Taur-im-Duinath, ruler of this forest and protector of its people."

A cheer erupted from the crowd, but Arvaran raised his hand for silence.

"Yet, your rule does not end here. The Avari are one people, and we cannot thrive if we remain divided. You have shown us the strength of unity, and it is only fitting that you lead us all."

He turned to face me fully. "Emlithor, we declare you High King of the Avari, the first to bear this title. Will you accept this burden, and with it, the duty to guide us into the future?"

The moment hung heavy, the weight of their words settling upon my shoulders. I looked out at the faces of my people—faces marked by struggle and resilience, hope and trust.

"I accept," I said, my voice steady. "Not as a ruler to command, but as a leader to serve. Together, we will ensure that the Avari endure, that our light will not be extinguished, even in the deepest shadows."

The lords knelt, each pledging their fealty. Then came the people, one by one, tribes mingling together as they swore their loyalty. It was a sight I would never forget—thousands of voices rising as one, united under a single purpose.

That evening, as the stars emerged to crown the heavens, we celebrated. Music filled the air, mingling with the sound of laughter and the crackle of bonfires. The Kinn-Lai played melodies that spoke of hope and renewal, while the Cuind shared stories of the hunt. The Penni tended to the weary, their touch light as the wind, and the Windan disappeared into the trees, their vigilant watch continuing even in times of joy.

I walked among them, not as a distant king but as one of their own. They looked to me with respect, but also with familiarity, for we had walked this path together.

As the fires burned low and the city grew quiet, I found myself once again on the balcony of Calamórë. The forest stretched before me, its shadows deep and endless, but I felt no fear.

The Avari were strong. Divided, we might have faltered, but united, we were unbreakable.

I placed my hand on Raumo's hilt, the blessed bow that had seen me through every trial. "This is only the beginning," I whispered.

And so, the High King of the Avari watched over his people, his gaze unyielding, his heart steadfast.