My Dear Elf.

A short poem about my otp in Lord of The Rings.

Your hair flowing in the wind, like a sea of sunshine.
Aim like no other. Better then Cupid maybe. Well whatever you have your arrow stabbed me
They say it was supposed to be painless but yours hit me like a Orc hitting The Black Gate.
That battle, the last battle. Our last battle.
Counting the ones you shot but not counting me.
How could you count me? I’m half your height.
Only a half, only a dwarf.
How can you love a dwarf?
Remember not just any dwarf, a warrior, a lover.
A lover. But not your lover.
For you, you go for the ones with hair just as long as yours, ears just as pointy.
Eyes just as blue.
For you, you go for the tall, the brave, the most graceful.
But I am none of that.
I am just a dwarf. Just a warrior. Just a lover.
A lover. But not your lover.
I may have been the first to enter the realm at the Woods of Lórien but you are the first elf to enter my heart.
The first, the last.
Can we travel west? Will you make me the first to enter the Undying Lands?
Will we be the first to end this ancient quarrel between Elves and Dwarves?
Or will your father Thranduil lock me up too?
If I ever left will you visit me in the Glittering Caves? Or will you forget about me?
For I am just a dwarf. Just a warrior. Just a lover.
A lover. But not your love