Elf Lovers, Unite! <3

ARE YOU AN ELF LOVER?


  • Total voters
    24
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ALL ELVES WILL DIE SO SAYS DOOOOOOOOOM!

...and What Would Galadriel Do?


...kick your lil' green butt, she would! :mp:
 

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Oh, yeah... and BTW => LEGENDS OF ELVERON


Hah. Don't dare the mighty Dark Lord, EB!

Actually, not only are you an Elf Lover, but also look like an elf too! You look young for your age, you're skinny and you have long white hair, and you specialize in Taro Elven Magic as well! Ergo, you ARE an elf!

You must be eliminated first, Filthy Elf!
*calls Sauron*
Sauron? Yeah it's me. Yes. Yes. Canada yes. Good.
Procceed with the mission.
 
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The expression on her face is just begging for a hilarious caption.:m129:


Huzzah for wood elves!
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:m015:
HELLOO NURSE!!!!! I have changed my opinion on Elves, you and your elf bigotorry can go to hell.
 
The expression on her face is just begging for a hilarious caption.:m129:


Huzzah for wood elves!
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:m015:
Actually, I'm having second thoughts too....Ouch...

Ok change of plans. Not all elves are to be slaughtered. Some will be taken... p-prisoners...
 
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Actually, I'm having second thoughts too....Ouch...

Ok change of plans. Not all elves are to be slaughtered. Some will be taken... p-prisoners...

Can we take these ones prisoners?

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What?? Take the Elven Folk prisioners?!?

Pffffftt!!

Foolish, foolish little Humans, you are.

We are stronger, more lithe, and can cast a glamour when and where we please. Our bows are strong and our arrows true and tipped with potions which will set you to slumber for a thousand seasons.
And we live so much longer. Remember, a day in our lands is a year in yours.

Silly, silly little Humans, you are.

Perhaps, you do forget La Belle Dame Sans Merci?

Ah, what can ail thee, wretched wight,
Alone and palely loitering;
The sedge is wither'd from the lake,
And no birds sing.

Ah, what can ail thee, wretched wight,
So haggard and so woe-begone?
The squirrel's granary is full,
And the harvest's done.

I see a lily on thy brow,
With anguish moist and fever dew;
And on thy cheek a fading rose
Fast withereth too.

I met a lady in the meads
Full beautiful, a faery's child;
Her hair was long, her foot was light,
And her eyes were wild.

I set her on my pacing steed,
And nothing else saw all day long;
For sideways would she lean, and sing
A faery's song.

I made a garland for her head,
And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;
She look'd at me as she did love,
And made sweet moan.

She found me roots of relish sweet,
And honey wild, and manna dew;
And sure in language strange she said,
I love thee true.

She took me to her elfin grot,
And there she gaz'd and sighed deep,
And there I shut her wild sad eyes--
So kiss'd to sleep.

And there we slumber'd on the moss,
And there I dream'd, ah woe betide,
The latest dream I ever dream'd
On the cold hill side.

I saw pale kings, and princes too,
Pale warriors, death-pale were they all;
Who cry'd--"La belle Dame sans merci
Hath thee in thrall!"

I saw their starv'd lips in the gloam
With horrid warning gaped wide,
And I awoke, and found me here
On the cold hill side.

And this is why I sojourn here
Alone and palely loitering,
Though the sedge is wither'd from the lake,
And no birds sing.

- John Keats 1820
 

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Hah. Don't dare the mighty Dark Lord, EB!

Actually, not only are you an Elf Lover, but also look like an elf too! You look young for your age, you're skinny and you have long white hair, and you specialize in Taro Elven Magic as well! Ergo, you ARE an elf!

You must be eliminated first, Filthy Elf!

oops... my glamour slipped. :md:

*calls Sauron*
Sauron? Yeah it's me. Yes. Yes. Canada yes. Good.
Procceed with the mission.
*waves arm in front of a full-length ornate mirror with a sweeping motion*

*the liquid glass of the mirror mists, swirls, turns mulitple shifting greys with tendrils lapping the gilded frame carved with howling faces, twisted intertwined branches and writhing gargoyles*

*mist dissolves into transluscent greys and blues, then slowly, faintly, there emerges a figure in long robes of greens and browns flecked with symbols which seem to crawl across its surface, slipping under the rivers of long grey hair tumbling down from shoulders to part around a simple leather bag tied to the figure's belt, then fall to end in strands inches from the stone floor*

*a face assembles from out of the settling mists, bearded, ancient, wise*

"Merlin...", I bow with deep respect, "we may have to summon the Dragon."

"Bespeak, why?", his voice like the distant thunder of Leviathans.

"There's this problem the Faire Sidhe have, you see..."
 
What?? Take the Elven Folk prisioners?!?

Pffffftt!!

Foolish, foolish little Humans, you are.

We are stronger, more lithe, and can cast a glamour when and where we please. Our bows are strong and our arrows true and tipped with potions which will set you to slumber for a thousand seasons.
And we live so much longer. Remember, a day in our lands is a year in yours.

Silly, silly little Humans, you are.

Perhaps, you do forget La Belle Dame Sans Merci?

They obviously forgot their Yeats, their Bragi Boddason, and their Goethe.

Who rides there so late through the night dark and drear?
The father it is, with his infant so dear;
He holdeth the boy tightly clasp'd in his arm,
He holdeth him safely, he keepeth him warm.

"My son, wherefore seek'st thou thy face thus to hide?"
"Look, father, the Erl-King is close by our side!
Dost see not the Erl-King, with crown and with train?"
"My son, 'tis the mist rising over the plain."

"Oh, come, thou dear infant! oh come thou with me!
For many a game I will play there with thee;
On my strand, lovely flowers their blossoms unfold,
My mother shall grace thee with garments of gold."

"My father, my father, and dost thou not hear
The words that the Erl-King now breathes in mine ear?"
"Be calm, dearest child, 'tis thy fancy deceives;
'Tis the sad wind that sighs through the withering leaves."

"Wilt go, then, dear infant, wilt go with me there?
My daughters shall tend thee with sisterly care
My daughters by night their glad festival keep,
They'll dance thee, and rock thee, and sing thee to sleep."

"My father, my father, and dost thou not see,
How the Erl-King his daughters has brought here for me?"
"My darling, my darling, I see it aright,
'Tis the aged grey willows deceiving thy sight."

"I love thee, I'm charm'd by thy beauty, dear boy!
And if thou'rt unwilling, then force I'll employ."
"My father, my father, he seizes me fast,
For sorely the Erl-King has hurt me at last."

The father now gallops, with terror half wild,
He grasps in his arms the poor shuddering child;
He reaches his courtyard with toil and with dread,--
The child in his arms finds he motionless, dead.
 
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And to quote myself;

over meadows, across the lakes
we never give, we only take
we once were gods, we were vanir

past the lakes down to the sea
for memories sake we shed a tear
we were respected as the sidhe

our power wanes, we revert to flames
as elementals we see the world
our dominion challenged by a girl

imagination overthrown
though seeds of discord sown
when once again ties are blown
we will make our vengence known

also,

Knavish fools upon an errand sing.
And whence forth they go, but to bring,
The madness of their aluisch king.
Disappearing swiftly into the lyng,
The minds of their victims, emptying.
 
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Did someone call me?
 
It seems as though the Dark Lord and his meager minions have chickened out in the face of the obviously superior Elven Armies...
 

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You are too few.
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And we have better groupies.
SuicideGirlsGothicGirl09-Beautifull.jpg
 
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