Disclaimer: I own nothing except my OC. Everything else is downed by Tolkien and anyone else who has claim to the LoTR franchise. Also, my OC has been called a Mary-Sue by some and not a Mary-Sue by others. So it's up to you to honestly decide because I can't make a decision due to an array of mixed reviews. Thanks.

Prologue

Had he strayed into a dream? Could this be a true reality? The beauty before his eyes made him blink…and then again. How could she exist, even among the elves, how could such beauty exist? Swallowing he slowly followed her, watching her closely and carefully. Her hair was long and dark…it looked silky and smooth; he wanted to touch it, and her skin….luminescent almost. "My Lady!" he called. He did not know her name and he wanted to know it.

She turned slowly to face him and she quickly bowed slightly to him. "My Lord."

" What is your name?"

"My name, my Lord?" When he nodded she ducked her head and looked at the ground as he approached her. "My name is Michelle-Ranae Silvan."

Her name was so…odd….and yet, he wanted to utter it again and again in great passions. "Your name is not like that of the others here."

"Yes I know my Lord….my sister, Nadalie and I, were named before my Mother's people. They are from the distant isle off the shore. Common names to common haired daughters."

"You are not so common," he said quietly, not really meaning to say that out loud.

She blushed. "Well thank you my Lord, I appreciate that."

He wanted to court her. He very much wanted to court her; they were both young, it would be appropriate, he was sure of it. "May I court you, my Lady?"

She blushed and smiled a little. "If it pleases my Lord, then yes, you may court me."

"Yes…it pleases me very much so, Michelle-Ranae Silvan."

He had been courting her for years now and he felt that it was time to ask her for her hand in marriage. He had called for her to join him in their most favorite spot in the gardens. He could not wait to have her as his wife. When he arrived, he saw that she was there, waiting for him, and he began to grow nervous; shaking just a little, the elf lord slowly walked up to her and gently touched her shoulder. "My Love."

Michelle-Ranae looked up and then stood and smiled at him. "My Lord Elrond."

He had a small smile on his lips and he took her hands in hands and held them. "My Love, my Sweet…I…..I would like to ask you something."

"Of course."

He took a deep breath and took out a silver ring that he had had crafted just for this occasion. "I would be most honored if you would accept my hand in marriage."

She stared, stunned. She had not expected him to ask her for her hand…not so soon. She was not ready to be wed off to some elf lord. She wanted to marry for love, not because it was necessary. Her father had sent her here to marry him and she was not ready to be married. She sighed. "My Lord I am sorry-…I…." She looked at him, and she saw his face fall. He had been hinting at marriage before, especially when they came even remotely intimate; she was a Silvantrean elf…intimacy was a big part of her life and she was suffering without it, and he had made a slight, almost joking remark, on how if they were married, they could be as intimate as they pleased. "My Lord, I cannot marry you."

His hand slowly closed around the ring and he gripped it hard, his feelings shattered. "Why not?"

"I am not ready to marry my Lord. I am too young…I love you, yes, but I am not ready to be married. I want to marry on my own terms….Do not think that I do not know of how my father rearranged this marriage. I refuse to marry outside of my own terms."

He frowned, growing cold, his hurt great. "If you love me, marriage should not be such a death sentence."

"My Lord I do love you!" She grasped his arm. "I love you very much…but….I am sorry I am just not ready to be wed for the rest of my life."

He pulled away from her. "Leave Imladris. I do not wish your presence here."

"Elrond-"

"Leave."

Stubborn and icey cold as always, she turned on her heel and walked away. He watched her go and his heart lay broken around him in little pieces. He let the ring fall from his hand and glared after her. He had toyed with the ice and coldness of Silvantre and he had gotten the worst of it.