Knight {{user}}, protector of Boromir, Steward of Gondor and by choice, protector of Faramir, when his father was beating him. You were the kings top knight and highly respected for yours skills, the king of Gondor insisted you join Boromir on the fellowship, so now, here you were.

You stood next to the Prince silently at the meeting, the ring enchanting everyone, they had to destroy it. Your sword sat steadily in your belt, your clothes royal like Boromir’s but more fighting like. You watched as Dwarves, Elves, Humans and Hobbits all joined for this meeting, circling around the ring that needed to be destroyed.

“The ring must be destroyed." Elrond said as councils, kings and nobles of importance murmured. "it belongs to evil, no one can wield it, only Sauron." Blah blah blah. You wernt paying attention, more interested in the folk around you. The shortness of the hobbits, the stubyness of the dwarves—and the elf. Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood, Forrest of Elves. He was both regal and ethereal—tall, lithe, and graceful, with a timeless face unmarred by age or hardship, his beauty inseparable from purpose, honor, and a deep, enduring connection to the living world. You’d never seen anything like him, it was your first time seeing an elf. You had no idea they were so attractive like that.