Name: Saelir Anoron
Pronounciation: SAY-leer (roll the rrs) NOT Sailor. *twitch*
Race: elf
Age: young by reckoning of elves. A couple of Centuries.
Gender: male

Background: Saelir was born in the woods of Lothlorien towards the end of the second age. His mother was a seamstress and his father a carpenter. Saelir had two older siblings, a brother who had grown and up and married by the time Saelir was the equivalent of a human toddler, and a sister, who was on the threshold of adult-hood. As both of these siblings didn�t particularly want to spend all of their time playing with their little brother, and there were not many other elflings in Lorien at the time, Saelir spent a lot of his time as a child around horses, or sitting on the fence of the practise arena, watching the warriors and soldiers practise. He especially loved it when occasionally one of the warriors would let him hand them the spare arrows during archery practise. He loved watching it, and so desperately wanted to learn.

As neither of is parents, nor siblings, had been trained in the fighting arts, Saelir, in typical childish logic, had no choice but to teach himself. To begin with he was far too small and slight to lift one of the heavy swords, let alone actually use it, and the bows the soldiers used were a good foot longer than he was tall. But he learnt by watching the soldiers� practise sessions, and imitated their moves, whacking enemies created by his imagination with sticks picked up off the forest floor.

Both of Saelir�s parents had heard conversations between various warriors, who were idly chatting about the little dark haired elfling they had met down in the stables. They chuckled to themselves as they spoke about the child, but always seemed to agree, that if given a couple more years, a bit more height and weight behind his attacks, and a weapon that was actually sharp, the little elf would make a formidable warrior, for he was very fast, very agile and seemed to gasp new concepts with ease.

Saelir�s parents were not sure what to think, when they realised that their youngest son wanted nothing more at that time than to be a brave warrior. They both agreed that he was too young for the time being, and far too easily flustered. They sat Saelir down and explained to him that it was his choice what he wanted in life, but there would be no proper lessons with weapons until he was much older, and that he was not to bother the soldiers. The elfling had sighed miserably and pulled a face, not having the patience to wait about few decades until the time came when he would be big enough. However, he'd had no choice but to agree, so instead of occupying himself by learning how to wield the weapons, he would simply watch as the soldiers clashed blades.

To Saelir it seemed like it took forever, but by the time he was big enough and strong enough to lift an actual sword, the equivalent of a human 12 year old, his parents finally relented, realising that there would be no way to turn Saelir�s mind away from the excitement and adventure that being a warrior would bring.

He began his training with a sword at first, but after he saw a mock battle between one of the Lothlorien warriors and a visiting elf from up north, he realised that perhaps wielding two long knives, like the combatant from Mirkwood did, would be more suited to him.

While not as many elves in Lorien were as good with two blades as they were with one, Saelir learnt all he could from them. After only a short time he could outmatch older, stronger elves who fought using a sword, for he was faster and more accurate with the scimitars than a long sword.

But as soon as he had picked up a bow, and shot, Saelir knew that he would be an archer, not a swordsman. Raw talent had emerged immediately, and many thought at first that perhaps this young elf had nothing more than luck, and an excellent, and very fortunate first shot. However, shot after shot, Saelir proved them wrong, each arrow hitting its mark. There was one problem though. Saelir was still just an adolescent, and none of his shots had nearly as much power behind them as they could have had been adult. But as he grew up, bow nearly always in hand, Saelir became easily one of the best archers that anyone in Lorien had ever seen. The same bow that he had made himself a few years before.

One year many of the young warriors, in particular the archers, received invitations from Thranduil of Mirkwood to attend a tournament over the summer. Saelir was one of those who received an invitation and was eager to travel. Once in Mirkwood, the competition was fierce. Although by then, Saelir was easily one of Lorien�s most talented archers, he was only just beaten, in a very close competition, by King Thranduil�s son Legolas, who was only a couple of years, perhaps ten years, younger than Saelir was. The prince was a formidable archer and Saelir was not ashamed to lose to him. While not as apt with blades as he was with a bow in hand, Saelir was certainly very capable with the bone handled, twin scimitars his owned.

In Mirkwood it was a tradition. Tournaments often lasted a few days, and each night while there were guests in Mirkwood, balls and feasts were held. Saelir had never been too fond of feasts and gatherings at home, but in a new place, with new people and in particular attractive maidens, he took great interest in it. He and prince Legolas became quick friends that evening, playfully competing to see who could dance with the most women. Once both of them had danced with nearly every female in Mirkwood, they competed to see who could drink the most wine without passing out. King Thranduil had thrown his son and Saelir a couple of annoyed looks, but by the time they were both considerably tipsy on rich elven wine, they both either didn�t seem to care, or were too drunk to notice.

At the banquet on the last night of the festivities, when both young males were sober, but still high spirited, the prince had dragged Saelir away from the food to meet a friend of his. Saelir had complained loudly that he wasn�t finished eating yet, but fell silent when Legolas introduced him to a pretty young maiden who went by the name of Helia. Saelir had never been one to be shy or silent, but that night he could do nothing more than stutter a few words and stare open mouthed at her. She had looked uncomfortable under his gaze and had turned back to ask Legolas, who was friend of hers, who this, in her opinion, very strange dark haired elf was. She had scowled to herself when she saw no sign of the prince. Saelir looked around for him also, and could not help but smile slightly when he saw the prince wave to him from the other side of the room, having left Helia and Saelir together on purpose. Saelir made a mental note to thank Legolas if everything went well, but to kill him if something bad happened.

The conversation had started awkwardly, but by the end of the night, Saelir had found himself promising Helia that he would come back to Mirkwood soon. And he didn�t think it was the wine talking either, for Saelir knew he hadn�t drunk that much. However, he couldn�t think very clearly and had a strange feeling in his stomach.

Saelir was sad to leave Mirkwood, even if he had only been there a week or two. It was on the way back though, that Saelir learnt first hand what an orc was. He was still a young elf, and in his life so far, he had never actually come across one of the vile beasts. The borders of Lorien were too well protected and he had not seen any in Mirkwood, even if there were orcs further south. He had heard tales and was always interested to hear experienced soldiers brag about how many they had slain.

The party of elves from Lorien who were heading home again, had been ambushed by the banks of the river, by a large platoon of orcs. The elves had dispatched all the orcs in no time, with no casualties apart from a few bruises and cuts, on their own part. However, it had been a first hand taste of how capable orcs were.

On his return to Lorien, still thinking of travel and adventure, as well as Helia of Mirkwood, Saelir was quick to join Lorien�s army, as an archer. In the wars and battles that followed over the next couple of hundred years, Saelir gained experience, knowledge and skill, but also realised that sometimes battle was not as glorious as it was made out to be. He saw death and destruction, and things that he would not want to see again.

Now an experienced, seasoned warrior, Saelir is one of the commanders of Lorien's armies. Though young, he has earnt respect from his fellow warriors and is a formidable fighter. He married Helia of Mirkwood early in the fourth age, and is now a father, with one daughter named Rhavaniel.

Description: Although an elf of Lorien, Saelir does not look it. While most elves of the golden wood are light haired and of Silvian or Sindarin origin, Saelir�s hair is very dark, almost black, and Noldor blood is clearly visible. He inherited many of his traits and looks, from his mother, including the dark hair and eyes the colour of emeralds. Saelir has a long face and high cheekbones and a fair complexion. He is not pale however, and has a light dusting of freckles over his nose and cheeks from being outdoors in the sun. Having earnt the right to wear warrior braids, a custom he discovered in Mirkwood, Saelir has always done so, even though his long, dark hair is usually simply pulled back into a slightly messy pony tail to keep it out of the way.

He is tall and slim like his mother was, and was very skinny and slight as a child, despite having an appetite that was certainly more than healthy. Saelir�s legs are long and well muscled, and he is swift and agile on his feet. His strong, but not bulky, shoulders and arms came from years of archery, and is an expert shot.

While he doesn�t look very much like his father, Saelir�s personality is more attributed to him rather than the slim delicate flower his mother was. Saelir is known by all, whether they be friend or foe, to be very stubborn, often having stoic determination to keep going until he achieves what he sets out to do. While he has always loved adventure and action, a trait that neither of his parents possessed, he does love peace and quiet, as well as watching things grow over time as his father did. Things of beauty always received respect, whether they be the stars, trees, wild flowers or in particular, Helia of Mirkwood. Friends are also an important part of life for Saelir and it is common knowledge that he would gladly die in place of a friend.

Saelir unfortunately isn�t very down to earth at times, often being ruled by his heart rather than his head, and can be quite rash and impatient, often taking action before he has a chance to think about the possible outcomes. On the other hand, as the commander of Lorien's army, he is unwavering and in battle, a fierce and intellegent leader. Saelir often comes across to outsiders as arrogant, and he can be, and can be nasty as well if the need arises.

In his youth, Saelir could have been described as 'wild', and still is to some extent, often restless and eager for adventure. The birth of his daughter though, and having to realise that he has to grow up a bit if he wants to be a good father, has toned down Saelir's wild side a bit. He is more patient now, but still likes to have his fun.

He is quick to make friends, even with those of other races, but it sometimes take a while for Saelir to warm to people he gets the wrong impression on. He is also very slow to forgive wrongs done, whether they be to others, the world or to himself.

A no fuss kind of elf, on most occasions, Saelir would avoid the fuss associated with banquets, often turning up in regular clothes rather than the fancy, elegant robes that are more suited to more formal occasions. When it comes to battle, Saelir stands firmly by the belief that freedom of movement is more important than protection. The only armour he had ever worn, when given a choice, was a very light shirt of mithril mail and leather armour, rather than the heavy steel that others would wear into battle. This enables the elf to have a greater freedom of movement, and being faster than most anyway, gives him an advantage in both attack and defence.

other junk: While archery is his strength, Saelir is no doubt a formidable warrior with a blade in hand. He can handle a sword with no trouble at all, but is far more adept with the pair of twin bone handled scimitars given to him by his grandfather. The blades were older than Saelir was, but never had the elf seen a better pair of knives. They had belonged to Saelir�s grandfather, who had fought against Morgoth many, many years ago. He had sailed to the undying lands when Saelir was small, but had left the blades in the care of his son, Saelir�s father, until the boy was old enough to use them. The knives were bone handled with silver blades, mithril or steel, Saelir didn�t know which. The blade was engraved with elegant patterns and had runes etched down the centre of the sharp silver blade. The hilts fitted perfectly in Saelir�s hands, as if they had been made for him.

As for his bow, it was crafted from a strong piece of wood, probably yew. Saelir had made it himself as a young lad, with a bit of help from his father, but never had a weapon served him better. If just any old bow was shoved into his hands, Saelir could shoot well, but it was nothing compared to his accuracy with his own weapon in hand. Perhaps it was just because he was used to the feel of it, but Saelir never felt entirely comfortable shooting with another person�s bow. The bow itself was dark, the wood stained a dark reddish brown and silver designs snaked up the length of it.

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