Blaine had never beheld a living, breathing, blood and soul Elf with his own Dwarf eyes in his lifetime, but their beauty was legendary, such that even Dwarves sang about it, comparing them to the rivers of gold that ran beneath the darkest depths of Middle-earth, where the Balrog slept, and the purest source of the metal could be found, stoked by their Demon fire. They compared them to the richest, most glorious of jewels; the ones that Dwarves spent several lifetimes searching for, handing down the quest to their heirs; the gems that were coveted as the quintessence of Dwarf skill and lordly power – The Arkenstone, The Nauglamír, and Nimphelos.

Of course, Dwarf songs about the Elves were ones they did not sing above ground, as not a one would want to own up to them.

But in Blaine's humble opinion, this one Elf's beauty surpassed the praise of legends. Even in his simple clothes and leathers, he wore the bearing of an Elven Prince, if ever Blaine saw one. He single-handedly held within him the depth and breadth of every tale Blaine had ever heard sung about the Elves, and this Blaine had not expected. It would embarrass Blaine to admit that when he heard Lord Elrond summon for him an Elf guide by the name of Kurt, he naively assumed a lesser than attractive Elf, one stocky in build and plain of face, if one did indeed exist. But Kurt was none of those things – long and lithe his body, with a sculpted face of singular magnificence, and a voice of the kind Blaine imagined the Angels possessed. His hair shimmered of its own volition, like copper set ablaze, even beneath the shade of the trees and within other shadowy places; and his eyes shone like sacred gemstones, sapphires blessed with the glimmer of starlight. So wondrous was this Elf that the name Kurt would forever mean wondrous to Blaine - spectacular. It would always be synonymous with elegance and grace, would bring to mind, till the day Blaine died, the breathtaking sight of this majestic creature, fluid in his steps, frugal in his words, and fiery in his gaze.

This Elf, this Kurt, was like something out of a dream, the fuzzy-edged memory of a fairy story his brother once told him long ago, about heavenly beings that played inside the clouds and walked among the stars.

Blaine knew from the first that this Elf would steal his heart, that he would always have Blaine's love, and that, for his part, Blaine would be safe in this capable Elf's care.

Kurt.

A proud Son of Rivendell.

Sent by Lord Elrond to be Blaine's guide.

And this Elf, for no reason that Blaine knew at all, hated him.