November 4, 7384

Dear Diary, How quickly things change. I think I should explain something about my former lives before I go on, without telling too much. This is going to sound strange, even ridiculous but it is truth and I am a strong believer in truth in it's most stripped down form. I loved my sister, for to us, not knowing our who was older only made us closer. (A/N: just reminding you this is not slash.) We were like twins. Indeed we could have been twin's for after our 1,000 birthday we vied to make ourselves look as similar as possible but still unique. She had blonde hair, I had honey brown. The same lengths, the same waves. Both of us had (and still have I might add) very thick long, elvish hair. Her eyes were a bright intelligent blue, and I have been told my eyes look like hers except a green version. We had similar, if not identical facial features and we grew to the exact same height. We looked very same, indeed, like two dolls painted different colors but still the same.

Her ears were pointed. Mine were round. She performed elvish magic very well, becoming the most powerful, magic wise (though unfortunately, at the time not politically powerful) elf in Lothlorien, if not middle-earth. I was different. Of course, I was different. I was born to never be one and the same, never to be normal.

My magic may have been of the same strength, it would be hard to gauge but it was different. Dull, crimson red magic. A bad sign of my future as many thought blood colored magic would only mean betrayl. It was hard. My magic was fueled through things, like a wizaed's staff. I could power it through wood or sword and sometimes even oddly shaped objects, such as a rocking horse to delight my younger cousin's. It was all well and fun. At about one thousand (The one thing I loved about being strange was the uncertain glances and looks. I was pretty, but I had round ears, still looked young unlike wizard's would, and never chose over what race to be. This absolutely delighted me.) my grandmother set me up with lessons, along with Galadriel (and get this, Thranduil, and a very young, very timid Elrond, who was being trained to be in the royal guard but was also decided to gat lessons as it would be helpful to learn about other countries) about how to run a country. I loved my grandmother, despite her folly. We never did anything for the first 25 years of it until a new teacher, a wise man (A/N: Does anyone know what Erendil's father's name is. I know it's stupid after completely changing families around but I would like his name, or a suggestion of a name for him.) came to teache us. He taught us well. It was decided me and Galadriel would rule together, though my stomach, for some reason unbeknownst to me would twist when that was mentioned. Then I ran into Isuldur's troops lost in the woods for some damned purpose I can only guess. And here comes the part no one will believe. I wove myself into a trap so tight I had no choice but to separate into two lives, and my first one would officially end that day.