XxLegolasGreenleafxX
Son of Thranduil
Elven Prince
Administrator
Posts: 3668
(9/26/05 6:55 pm)
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Legolas Greenleaf - WIP
Account Name:
XxLegolasGreenleafxX
Contact Information:
AIM - Crimson Nights; EzInbox - Enabled; Email - crimsonnights@aol.com
Name: Legolas Greenleaf
Gender: Male
Age: 2,931 Years old
Race: Sindar Elf
Skills:
¤ Horseback Riding
¤ Marksmanship
¤ Swordplay
¤ Knowledge of the Lands
¤ Knowledge and Wisdom of History and Warfare
¤ Elven Ranger Skills
Occupation: Prince of Norther Mirkwood, Elven Assassin, Future Elven Lord of Ithlien
Appearance:
Personality:
Weaknesses:
¤ Stubbornness
¤ Slender: In comparison to Humans
Strengths:
¤ Marksmanship
¤ Elven Abilities
History:
Sample RP Post:
Even though much of the lands had stayed the same in Middle Earth, a difference had been made since the Third Age of Middle Earth. While the trees continued to sprout new leaves and reach toward the heavens each day, there was a silent tranquility that had been reached. The grounds shook with glee from not feeling the harsh and ravenous footfalls of darkness. The winds whispered praise and thanks for the lessening of evil. However, it still lingered on. And unfortunately, it would continue lingered on. Rumored began to spread about all of Middle Earth of a rising threat once more, the evil that had been destroyed was rising again from the ashes like a black phoenix. The heavy fog was beginning to settle upon the clear skies once more.
The sound of light hooves beating against the dirt path toward the city could barely be heard. The elven horse slowed to a canter the closer they arrived with rider and steed. The ground seemed to move like liquid under the feet of the white horse, and neither rider or steed cared about such. Glorfindel held the reins with one hand, which were attached to a harness around the horse’s face. Of course, the elf could have road bareback, but then that would make the people that he happen to meet a bit more suspicious of who he was. Only elves and those with trailing in horses could ride like that, and most preferred the saddle in reins. The saddle was nothing elaborate or very fancy. It was a velvet seating in the shape of the modern saddles, but held no backing or a ‘horn’ in the front. Under the saddle was the saddle blanket in a rich velvet blue-grey with white trip and the design of the elves.
His eyes moved to Minas Tirith, a city of kings, and the heir that had been rightfully restored: Aragorn. The man that not many knew of when he was a child. The boy was brought to Imladris when he was just a little boy. Glorfindel remembered him, and while the man was growing in Rivendell, not only did he get a taste of the dying culture of Elves in Middle Earth, but he was schooled in the histories as well. At least the king knew what had happened in the past from the many, many books of Elrond. Unfortunately, he had sailed, but left it in the care of his sons and the Noldor elven lord. But at the moment, Glorfindel was not too concerned with Rivendell, for it was a safe and secret haven for elves. If his dreams and premonitions were true, then Minas Tirith would be the first target to receive a direct hit. The people had to be warned, and the king alerted.
Approaching the gates, the elf bid passage through, stating that he was Glorfindel and was with a trusted companion. They did not question him, for he had been to this city before. It was not his first time here in Minas Tirith, the new capital of Gondor. With only a few words, the elf nudged his steed on and glanced back to his companion. Nodding to her. When the gates opened, both horse and rider trotted into the first level. The sound of the gates assured him that anyone else he did not address to be traveling with him would have remained on the other side of the gate. Gracefully the elf dismounted and stroked the neck of his stallion. Glorfindel whispered thanks to his friend and pushed back the hood of his grey velvet cloak, clasped together around his neck and shoulders with a silver broach. The blond locks of hair on the elf glistened with the light of the sun.
Now here in Gondor he would reside for a time. Urgent news had to be sent, and now that he was here, that could be done. But when he looked around, he was surprised to see that there other elves here. How long had they been here? Shrugging mentally, Glorfindel led his horse to the stables and removed the saddle and harness. It had no bit, for he thought that to be cruel and unfit for a horse at all. Once his horse was settled, he moved back into the city’s main square on the first level. “Much has changed since I had last been here.” He whispered, looking around. Minas Tirith never looked more beautiful than it did now. It was rich and gleamed with all of its splendor. A work of the great king, combining other cultures as well, uniting other races of Middle Earth. Smirking, Glorfindel chuckled a bit before adjust the sheathed elven blade around his waist.
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