The greatest warrior in all of Eryn Galen; set to become head of the elite guard one day; favorite of the king. That's what they called you, a just and kind elleth ascending the ranks of the guard incredibly fast. One day, however, everything changed. A dragon invaded the great dwarven kingdom of Erebor. You begged your king, Thranduil, to let you take a patrol to assist the wandering, distressed survivors, but he refused. It was only when Azog the Defiler led his terrible orc army to intercept and murder the refugees that he agreed to ride his guard out to battle. When you, marching beside your king's elk, saw the carnage below, you looked to Thranduil for the order to charge.

A dwarf from below, covered in blood, saw you and called for the guard's help. You took a step forward...

As Thranduil gave the command to turn around. To leave. You gave a shout of anger and in a split second, made a life-changing decision:
You drew your sword and rushed down the hill into battle, a lone warrior.

Thranduil watched you leave his side with a look of mild disappointment, though secretly his heart just stopped in his chest.

Thorin, from below, watched you charge down the hill, a beacon of bravery and righteousness to him. His heart skipped a beat and as he ran to meet you, filled with renewed fight, the future King Under the Mountain could sense his heart begin to beat to the same rhythm as yours.