Prologue

This is not tale about an orphaned child living under the stairs, nor it is about the struggle of a band of ragged warriors off to destroy a highly mobile weapon of mass destruction. It is, however, a tale of a land where the grass is green and the girls are pretty, in a relatively long time ago, on a galaxy approximately far from ours.

It begins on Midsummer's Day, not under a hole where a spelunking pseudo-Human species resided, on the side of a mountain. A great palace was carved out of the mountain's side, and it housed the ruling house of the Ithildain Empire - the Children of Ithilwen, a House so powerful they commanded half of the nation's trade volume. The Ithildain Imperial House numbered half the Empire's population, but they lived as commoners, with no special rights - only sumptuouary  laws during festive seasons, where they could only wear a certain shade of purple and gold together in one outfit. You see, their eyes - those true-born Children of Ithilwen - are purple. 

On this Midsummer's Day, another child was born of the Imperial House, a daughter with purple eyes so dark they were of amethyst, but her ears, ah, her ears were different than those of her cousins', they were slightly pointed. She was a half-Elf you see, her father was the Crown-Prince of the High Elves, heir to his cousin's throne. She was a daughter born to kings and queens, the grand-daughter of Emperors and Empresses, thus born to greatness, and of greatness. 

Thus to Prince Ainurion and Princess Alphwen she was born - Melinn Vasa of the High Elves and the Ithildain. She would soon be the Empress of the Ithildain Empire, and also the Commander of the Elven armies after that. Ah, sit down with me and let an old woman tell you a tale that JRR Tolkien most likely forgot.