*Even though I wish I had come up with the Lord of the Rings and all the
characters on my own, it's sadly not true. The fanfic is mine though.*
Prologue
When I first saw her, I thought that the Elves had come back to the earth. She had a deep-rooted wisdom about her, one that supposedly had not been sensed since the days of the old. Today, only the Hobbits, only we remember the stories of the way Middle-earth once was. Mainly because those last ones were stories of our glories, and of course, you can't have last stories without first stories. But we had all been taught these stories, and so, I knew of Elves, and she certainly seemed like one. I believe I was a mere toddler when I met her. I looked up at her in awe when I saw her. "Are you...are you an, Elf?!" I shrieked.
Can you blame me? I was young and excitable! Of course, she being the ancient person she was, did not take heed to my enthusiasm and merely smiled serenely down at me, as if resolved not to be bothered by such a naïve and immature being. "No dear, not an Elf," she paused here "...but I knew many," and as her smile disappeared from her face she seemed to float away, her eyes got hazy. She seemed anxious to reminisce-I suppose she needed to remember. "Would you like to hear a story of Elves?" she said quietly, in the same peaceful tone, knowing my answer already.
"Yes, yes!" I almost yelled, in hopes of hearing a long-forgotten tale. I had always loved to hear of Middle-earth's past, and I had never spoken with one so aged, from the past-not that she looked it. She looked as if she were thirty years of age, if not younger, but one could feel the age that she was enveloped by, as one could also tell by the tone of her voice, clear and thoughtful. And so she began...
Prologue
When I first saw her, I thought that the Elves had come back to the earth. She had a deep-rooted wisdom about her, one that supposedly had not been sensed since the days of the old. Today, only the Hobbits, only we remember the stories of the way Middle-earth once was. Mainly because those last ones were stories of our glories, and of course, you can't have last stories without first stories. But we had all been taught these stories, and so, I knew of Elves, and she certainly seemed like one. I believe I was a mere toddler when I met her. I looked up at her in awe when I saw her. "Are you...are you an, Elf?!" I shrieked.
Can you blame me? I was young and excitable! Of course, she being the ancient person she was, did not take heed to my enthusiasm and merely smiled serenely down at me, as if resolved not to be bothered by such a naïve and immature being. "No dear, not an Elf," she paused here "...but I knew many," and as her smile disappeared from her face she seemed to float away, her eyes got hazy. She seemed anxious to reminisce-I suppose she needed to remember. "Would you like to hear a story of Elves?" she said quietly, in the same peaceful tone, knowing my answer already.
"Yes, yes!" I almost yelled, in hopes of hearing a long-forgotten tale. I had always loved to hear of Middle-earth's past, and I had never spoken with one so aged, from the past-not that she looked it. She looked as if she were thirty years of age, if not younger, but one could feel the age that she was enveloped by, as one could also tell by the tone of her voice, clear and thoughtful. And so she began...