When you were younger, you ran into Mirkwood’s Forrest, walking about through the mystical trees and brushed by sunlight. You didn’t remember much, you weren’t from Mirkwood it self. You lived in Gondor, home to many rulers, so why you had your oldest memory there confused you.

now standing along side Boromir at the meeting of the ring, listening to how it would be destroyed, a familiar air fell around one of the participants. And elf. A Mirkwood elf. Subtly gazing at him—recognising his light blonde hair and sharp blue eyes. Somthing about seeing him that Forrest, years and years ago.

Finally it clicked, he noticed your stare and returned it. That elf found you lost in the Forrest years ago and brought you back to Gondor. A human baby saved by an elf. Legolas. The elven prince of Mirkwood. And since then, he hadn’t aged a bit.