When people imagine my mate, the word "beautiful" is almost always present. Many think that I am beautiful, and would therefore desire someone of a similar sort. That may be true with humans, but it is not for me. Please try to remember that I am an Elf. We have standards that are a bit higher than the physical features you find pleasing. I have loved in my past and she was anything but "stunning". Yet... she was perfect. She was not a rare dark elf, nor a petite blonde human. Her hair was a mousy brown and she had the grace of a duck. She did not possess the willowy bodies you dream of and she could not carry a note to save her life. She was kind, yet had a quick temper and a mouth to match. Yet, she was and will always be the quintessence of perfection for me. Her name was Ereda.

Being a son of the King of Mirkwood, you may be able to assume the enormous number of dull and exhausting matchmaking efforts I've had to survive. It seemed to me, in my youth, that my father was bent on destroying me with some simple-minded buffoon. I did not care for women the way my brothers did. They were strange creatures that I did not wish to pursue. Chasing after wild boar seemed so much easier back then. Frustrated with my stubbornness, my father sent me to live with his brother in a kingdom to the west of us that to this day has remained very much secret. I had been overjoyed and yet annoyed at my exhalation. Glad to be rid of those giggling, eye-batting fools yet angered that he felt I was useless if I could not benefit his reign. But, he had never been given a reason to love me. I was his son, true, but he was the King of Mirkwood. His duty was to his crown, not to my siblings or myself. There was no reason for him to look at my marrying as more than a contract
ensuring the safety of his kingdom and for that dedication, I hated him.

So it came to be, that I, Legolas Greenleaf, Prince of Mirkwood was cast from my home and sentenced to years of torturing amongst my cousins. I remember when my company first rode up to their borders. Lonely and gray, they were. An eternal fog clung to every rock, hill and tree. You'd see nothing but fog, if you were not aware of the kingdom hidden within. The first thing that was visible to my eyes was a long tower that shot straight towards the heavens. It was round and went to a point at the very top. A small rail could be seen near this point, making it appear as a balcony. This was the main tower. Short stubs that seemed to yearn for that height yet lacked the ambition to achieve it were covered in shadows from the Great Tower, along with the ever-present mist. Instead of housing a square main shape, a sphere had been created instead. I had been told that the majority of the castle had been, in fact, dug straight into the rock it was placed upon. I still shudder at the
thought of living underground. These relatives had once been forest-dwellers like I, but had long ago traded the freedom of the wood for the security of the earth. My party rode solemnly towards the gates, as if in a funeral march. I tried to fill my eyes with the beauty and life of the fading woodlands but found my eyes were looked tightly on the main gate. It was a cruel metal contraption. Twisting iron danced its way into fierce dragons and many-eyed monsters of legend and myth. My father's servant, Melros, quickly leapt from his horse and made his way to the gates from which I felt I'd never return. Two guards spoke briefly with him and then led us forward. Inside the walls of the city were no different than the outside: cold, hard stone, merciless and unforgiving. The fire that had so often burnt ferociously in my heart was flickering to a dim glow. As the guards yanked the door shut, I felt I wanted to scream and yet was mute. My blood felt cold. I was trapped. There
was to be no going back now. With what I then thought to be a brave sigh, I turned my head from the past and began to walk stoically into my future.