We were a proud race, skilled in the arts of war. I guess it was pride that eventually became our downfall. We were the Guardians of Middle-Earth, sent to Arda to protect the Children from the darkness, the Enemy, and, ultimately, themselves.
We fought in the Great War nearly three-thousand years ago. The battle was won, but at no small cost. Our numbers were dwindling.
Death and destruction followed in our wake, and, by no means of our own, we were being hunted. Tracked and killed by the people we had given our lives to protect. Soon we were seen as monsters and hunted by the very people we had given our lives to save.
Fearing for our survival, we fled to our stronghold, deep in the mountains. Here we are safe. But our hearts are still outside with the people we love and had sworn, all those years ago, to protect. Now, a different battle is fought between all of us: whether to stay in the shadows that we love so deeply, or to venture out again, into the light, for which we yearn.