Middle Earth: High King of The Avari

The journey to Himring had been long, but as Aurion and his company of Avari soldiers crossed the final ridge, the fortress of Himring came into view. Its blackened walls stood resolute against the rugged hills, a bastion of strength and endurance. Aurion felt a flutter of anticipation. This was the seat of his mother's kin, the house of Feanor, whose legacy loomed large over his family.

The gates opened with a groan, revealing a bustling courtyard. Soldiers moved about their tasks, and the air hummed with the sounds of industry. Aurion dismounted, and the guards who met him stared for a moment, their eyes lingering on his face.

"Lord Aurion, the Lord of Himring awaits you in the great hall," one of them said, his tone respectful but curious.

Aurion nodded and gestured for his men to follow. As they ascended the stone steps and entered the hall, the warmth of the braziers enveloped them. At the far end of the chamber stood Maedhros, his commanding presence unmistakable.

When Maedhros rose, his eyes fixed on Aurion, and his composure faltered for a fraction of a second. His expression turned to one of stunned recognition. He stepped forward slowly, his tall frame casting a long shadow in the firelight.

Aurion bowed deeply. "Grandfather, I am Aurion, son of Arinyanénar and Aistalë. I bring greetings from my parents."

Maedhros didn't immediately respond. His gaze remained locked on Aurion's face, and when he finally spoke, his voice was low and reverent. "By the Valar… You look just like him."

Aurion blinked in confusion. "Like who, my lord?"

Before Maedhros could answer, others began to enter the hall. Maglor, Celegorm, Caranthir, Curufin, Amrod, and Amras approached, each curious to see the son of their niece.

Maglor was the first to stop in his tracks. His face softened, and he whispered, "It cannot be… You bear the image of our father."

Celegorm, less subtle, let out an incredulous laugh. "By Eru! It's as though Feanor himself stands before us!"

Aurion shifted uneasily under their scrutiny. He had been told he resembled his mother's Grandfather but he hadn't realized just how closely.

Caranthir, his dark eyes narrowing, spoke gravely. "You even have his fire in your eyes."

Curufin stepped closer, his gaze calculating. "You are young, but I see the makings of something great. A craftsman, perhaps?"

Amrod and Amras exchanged glances before nodding in agreement. "He is the very image of our father," said Amrod.

Aurion finally found his voice. "I am honored by your words, uncles, but I am my own person. My mother and father have shaped me into who I am today."

Maedhros placed a hand on Aurion's shoulder, his expression softening into something almost paternal. "Indeed, you are your own. But seeing you… it is like looking into a memory I thought lost forever."

Maglor approached then, taking Aurion's hand in his. "Your presence here brings us both joy and sorrow, for you remind us of what we have gained and what we have lost. Welcome to Himring, nephew."

Aurion bowed his head respectfully. "Thank you, Uncle Maglor. I hope to honor both my father's and my mother's houses in my time here."

Celegorm clapped Aurion on the back with a grin. "Come, then! Let us not linger in sentiment. You have traveled far, and Himring is not a place to dwell on the past for long. We will show you what hospitality we can muster in these times."

The brothers led Aurion deeper into the hall, their initial surprise giving way to warmth and camaraderie. Yet, as they moved about him, their gazes lingered, each of them seeing in Aurion the living shadow of a father they had loved, hated, and followed into doom.

Aurion felt their eyes and their unspoken thoughts, but he held his head high. He was more than an echo of the past. He was the future, and his story was just beginning.