Long, long ago, in the land of Middle-Earth, a true love was born between a prince and princess of the Elven rulers. They were among the most beloved of the Elves. The Lady of Valinor blessed them with a love so strong that it was made to transcend life itself. But immortality may not last forever…

Chapter 1

The amber sun slowly crept behind a bank of clouds as grasslands dotted with shrubs and low trees flashed by. My light gray mare cantered down the path, dirt spewing from under her hooves. A silver gray cloak billowed behind me, revealing a silvery tunic with trailing sleeves. My knee high boots were tight black leather, protecting my legs, encased in black linen. The large hood of the cloak covered my hair and part of my face, only revealing a lock of shining golden hair.

I drew my horse to a gentle walk as the last shred of sun slipped beyond the distant mountains to the west. I looked to my left. Boulders formed strange shadows across the beaten path. Far off in the distance I heard another rider trotting toward me. I pulled my hood across my face, so that none of my features would be discernable in the dusky light. I stopped at the edge of the path, to allow the other horse to pass. I glanced behind me at the rider.

A slender man riding a white horse silently stopped next to me. His clothes were much like mine, only his dark green tunic had tight fitting sleeves. His quiver was slung over his shoulders, along with a sword and multiple knives buckled around his waist. The early evening shadows and his hood hid the top of his face, but it didn’t hide his dazzling smile when he saw me.

“I have been traveling alone for many hours. My companions are camped a few minutes ride from here. May I accompany you?” His voice sounded familiar, but the name slipped my mind. I had a strange feeling I’d met him many ages ago, in a distant place. We started off at a walking pace down the path. Our horses’ sides were close, our legs almost touching.

A sudden gust of autumn air tugged the rider’s hood away from the side of his face. I could barely catch a glimpse of a slightly pointed ear and his long gold hair. The man, who by now I assumed was an elf, quickly pulled the hood back over his features.

“Who are you?” he asked, trying to look at my face. The question disarmed me.

“Eneth nîn Miluiel. I am the daughter of Lord Celeborn and the Lady Galadriel, rulers of Lothlórien,” I said, glancing quickly at the elf. He stiffened when I said my name and my parent’s names.

“What?” I asked.

“Oh, nothing. It’s just that the elf maiden that I loved, before she passed on, was named Miluiel,” he replied. In my head, I saw vague scenes of a handsome stranger with a familiar face standing over me. The next instant, my eyes teared up as I remembered the next part of the story. The building around me burst into flame, and Orcs poured through every opening. A poisoned arrow grazed my arm, leaving me unconscious.

“And what is your name, if I may ask?” I inquired.

“My name is Legolas. I am the son of Thranduil, King of Mirkwood,” he said. I gasped as the memories flooded back to me. I let the tears silently flow down my face and onto my tunic.

“Miluiel?” he asked when I didn’t reply for a few moments.

“My love’s name was Legolas,” I said, throwing the hood of my cloak back, revealing my face. He did the same, and I found his familiar blue eyes gazing into mine.

“Miluiel,” he said softly, his lips turning up in a smile. He laid his hand on top of mine. I reined in my horse as we stared at each other, longing to embrace, but night was falling quickly. The first evening stars were shining as a sliver of moonlight rose above the grassland.

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