Standard disclaimer: I do not own those characters and places to which this musing alludes; all of Middle Earth and its denizens are the creation of J.R.R.Tolkien. I merely provide the thoughts for a member of a somewhat mysterious race of Elves.
I have nothing to say that you would wish to hear. I am nothing to you but a darkness, a danger, a threat growing in your mind, a shadow that might steal your soul if you are not wary. You do not see me-you see my people, or what your people have made of us.
We were not always thus, hiding in the shadows, plotting in the dark. We were strong once, like you, and fair. We are still fair-I see agreement in your eyes-but our fairness is that of a poisonous blossom, luring the innocent to death in the heady perfume of our song. I have heard the tales your people tell of us, that we enchant and ensnare and bewitch any who wander into our reach. Our forests are not safe, you say. No mind that your own forests are a danger to every traveler, I would say; your people kill intruders instead of stealing them and yet you condemn us for our savagery. Your people fear us, though in truth it is we who should be afraid.
Beauty and light left our land with your people. You are the more favored, you who have gone into the West and left your brethren behind. We remained, trapped in this world of despair and death, ever sorrowful, always envious of you and your decision. Why did we not accept the call? It would have been but a little thing, a small submission to the will of another, but we were ever a stiff-necked people. We value submission now, every bending of the knee a grasp at that which we cannot have, each bow of the head an atonement that is spoken too late to redeem a refusal made in haste. We envy, yes, and regret and mourn and despair and dream of pathways forever closed to us. We dream of an ocean across which we may sail in white ships to join our loved ones in a land of warmth and joy, but we waken to landlocked seas and fewer of us with each passing age.
We stand, cloaked witnesses to the slow passage of time. You may savor the long years of your life, knowing that your immortality will be spun out in harmony with others of your kind, but I, my cousin, will see out the ages of the world alone. Little wonder that we deceive and ensnare, for what else do the lonely crave more than companionship, however unwilling?
Do my words frighten you, fair Elf? Turn your head away, if you must. Close your ears and pretend that what I say could never happen to you. Be comfortable in your possibilities, but remember...a single word, before the dawning of time, and you would have been me.