(NOTE: I wrote this poem in hopes to capture a Legolas we rarely consider. We often view him much as the mortals in this poem do; valiant, noble, wise, lordly. However, we commonly neglect that he is a warrior, a very fierce one actually. In relation to many other elves, he is probably thought of as a wild and hot-tempered prince. He hasn’t really known any world but that of battle, growing up in Mirkwood [think of Smaug, the Necromancer, the goblins, the spiders, the quarrels with dwarves, ect.]. This does not make him any less a hero in our eyes, however; it is for these qualities that he was probably chosen by Elrond to be in the Fellowship. Hope it give a few thoughts!)
Down the pathway clad in green,
Erect and tall an elf is seen;
His eyes glow bright, his face is fair
And like the sunlight shines his hair.
“How wise!” cry mortals at his sight
“How brave! How noble! Son of Light!
“A prince, they say, is he thereon
” And elf lord gentle as the dawn!”
Slight they know this elven lord,
His grace all lies in skill of sword.
Not in peace, but war, he’s grown;
To battle have his years been thrown.
In forest dark he claims his home
Among the wild he hunts and roams;
‘Tis not the harp he plays with skill
But deadly longbow drawn to kill.
This elf is I, of which we speak
A child fierce, not soft or meek.
Think not of me a wise, sage one
In blood and death I often run.
Think me not like lord of yore;
Elrond, Celeborn, all before
The darkness fell did they all reign
To me is given years of pain.
I’d see the world purged new again;
For that I pray, my mortal friend.
Hope I give to you console
Yet fear I none can tame my soul.