Dear Mellon,
My name is Vanima. It is supposed to mean 'beautiful' in my native language, Elvish. That's right. I am an Elf. However I do not up hold my heritage. I am an ugly Elf. And this is the story of my death.
Neither my parents nor I know how it happened. IT happened on the day of my birth, well over 20,000 years ago today. We don't even know why or what happened. All we know is that I slowly changed from a darling child to one that was deformed, with uneven skin tones, and unnatural scars that contorted my once lovely features.
Since then I have had to live with the shame of being the only ugly Elf ever. As I grew older and closer to the age at which I was expected to start to find a husband, I became more aware of it. I had no friends except the animals I had found. At parties people would whisper about me behind hands and no male Elves came near me.
I began to fall into despair and my mother feared that I would die. So she sent me to Mirkwood, away from my home in Rivendell. She had hoped that the beauty there would cast my mind to other things. And it worked for a little while.
That short time before I saw the Prince. I had been in a small clearing with all of my animals. For me it was love at first sight and his unearthly radiance made me stop where I was. His name was Legolas, and he had deep blue green eyes that I thought could see my soul. His brilliant blonde hair caught and absorbed the sunlight.
Although I knew he saw me naught and would find me repelling if he did, I began to pine after his love. When he started to shower attention on another, I became filled with jealousy and hatred that ate away at my heart. This disturbed me, for no Elf, ugly or not, should become consumed with emotions so like those of evil.
The emotions also ate away at my will to live. The knowledge that Legolas would never love me had destroyed all sense of love for those that I knew cared about me. Like my mother, my father, my animal friends that had followed me to Mirkwood. I would look at them and wonder why they were the only ones who cared.
Slowly I began to fade. It took about a week for those around me to notice. When I was brought to the Healers, they questioned me on my grief. Was it caused by a dead friend ? An unfound wound? A lost love? My looks?
The last they hesitated to ask, for fear of offending me. I only chuckled softly when they asked me. I knew how I looked. That couldn't hurt me now. When they asked what would make me better I thought for a moment. Did I tell them that I want the she-Elf that captivated Legolas so, dead? Or that I want Legolas to love me forever, ugliness and all?
No. I remained silent because either way Legolas would find out about me and that would hurt him. I could never cause harm to a'maelamin taren. Not to my beloved Prince.
I fell in to a welcome unconsciousness. In the blissful sleep that followed, I had dreams of Legolas. I was a beauty, the beauty I was supposed to be. And Legolas loved me.
As I came to, I could detect a presence beside me. Holding my hand. My eyes flew open and I shot straight up, bowing my head so my hair covered my face. It was the Prince that was holding my hand. My Prince. The one I had longed for, for weeks on end.
I threw off my covers and ran out of the door, ignoring all shouts of protest. My Prince had seen my face as I slept. My Prince. My face. The tears coming out of my eyes streamed over now mysteriously smooth skin. When I stopped running I found my self in the forest near the spot where I had first seen Legolas. I still remember the day although I am but a mere spirit now. I collapsed where I stood, unable to go farther.
As I felt my last breaths come, I cried my last tears for a love that I thought could never be. . .
~Vanima
My name is Vanima. It is supposed to mean 'beautiful' in my native language, Elvish. That's right. I am an Elf. However I do not up hold my heritage. I am an ugly Elf. And this is the story of my death.
Neither my parents nor I know how it happened. IT happened on the day of my birth, well over 20,000 years ago today. We don't even know why or what happened. All we know is that I slowly changed from a darling child to one that was deformed, with uneven skin tones, and unnatural scars that contorted my once lovely features.
Since then I have had to live with the shame of being the only ugly Elf ever. As I grew older and closer to the age at which I was expected to start to find a husband, I became more aware of it. I had no friends except the animals I had found. At parties people would whisper about me behind hands and no male Elves came near me.
I began to fall into despair and my mother feared that I would die. So she sent me to Mirkwood, away from my home in Rivendell. She had hoped that the beauty there would cast my mind to other things. And it worked for a little while.
That short time before I saw the Prince. I had been in a small clearing with all of my animals. For me it was love at first sight and his unearthly radiance made me stop where I was. His name was Legolas, and he had deep blue green eyes that I thought could see my soul. His brilliant blonde hair caught and absorbed the sunlight.
Although I knew he saw me naught and would find me repelling if he did, I began to pine after his love. When he started to shower attention on another, I became filled with jealousy and hatred that ate away at my heart. This disturbed me, for no Elf, ugly or not, should become consumed with emotions so like those of evil.
The emotions also ate away at my will to live. The knowledge that Legolas would never love me had destroyed all sense of love for those that I knew cared about me. Like my mother, my father, my animal friends that had followed me to Mirkwood. I would look at them and wonder why they were the only ones who cared.
Slowly I began to fade. It took about a week for those around me to notice. When I was brought to the Healers, they questioned me on my grief. Was it caused by a dead friend ? An unfound wound? A lost love? My looks?
The last they hesitated to ask, for fear of offending me. I only chuckled softly when they asked me. I knew how I looked. That couldn't hurt me now. When they asked what would make me better I thought for a moment. Did I tell them that I want the she-Elf that captivated Legolas so, dead? Or that I want Legolas to love me forever, ugliness and all?
No. I remained silent because either way Legolas would find out about me and that would hurt him. I could never cause harm to a'maelamin taren. Not to my beloved Prince.
I fell in to a welcome unconsciousness. In the blissful sleep that followed, I had dreams of Legolas. I was a beauty, the beauty I was supposed to be. And Legolas loved me.
As I came to, I could detect a presence beside me. Holding my hand. My eyes flew open and I shot straight up, bowing my head so my hair covered my face. It was the Prince that was holding my hand. My Prince. The one I had longed for, for weeks on end.
I threw off my covers and ran out of the door, ignoring all shouts of protest. My Prince had seen my face as I slept. My Prince. My face. The tears coming out of my eyes streamed over now mysteriously smooth skin. When I stopped running I found my self in the forest near the spot where I had first seen Legolas. I still remember the day although I am but a mere spirit now. I collapsed where I stood, unable to go farther.
As I felt my last breaths come, I cried my last tears for a love that I thought could never be. . .
~Vanima