It was six years ago since I wilfully changed the course of my life forever. I was sitting in the depths of the Elven King's caves in the middle of a bleak winter. Outside, the temperature had plummeted to below freezing, the snow turning the usually dark and foreboding Mirkwood forest into a magical wonderland of shimmering white velvet.

I had wrapped myself in a multitude of cloaks and scarves to stave away the biting cold; even though we were deep in the caves, the cold still managed to penetrate the thick walls, and my breath was clearly visible in the air.

On the table in front of me was a parchment bearing the seal and signature of the elven-king and my father, Renweard, a prolific horse dealer of Rohan, famed for the production of fine warhorses. Every winter, my father would make the long journey to Mirkwood with a selection of our finest colts and fillies in the hope of selling to the elves of Mirkwood. It was generally a very successful venture, the king was generous with his money and quite delighted with our fine specimens, the end result of generations of selective breeding.

Ever since I was a very small child, I had been desperate to visit the elves, those wondrously magical and mythical creatures, yet every year I had to content myself with my fathers tales of his latest adventures with the wood-elves. 'One day Éadestre my child, when you are older and wiser, I shall take you with me and you shall see for yourself the beauty and majesty of the first-born.' Personally, I would have preferred him to say nothing at all than persist in giving me tantalizing hints.

At the head of the table sat the elven king, a crown of berries on his noble head. He was talking earnestly to my father regarding the ever increasing threat from the Necromancer's fortress of Dol Goldur. I wished he wouldn't. Every time I heard-tell of that place, I got a cold feeling of dread in my stomach.

In the middle that macabre discussion, I looked up and saw what I presumed to be a servant, bearing a silver tray of what appeared to be Dowinnion wine. I gasped quietly; he was the most beautiful creature I had ever laid eyes upon. I tried to focus on the conversation, yet I could not resist indulging in another look.

The kings butler, Galion, stood as still as a statue behind his lord. Lips tightened mischievously into dimples, curving up towards sharp cheekbones. His thick black hair was held back by braids, and fell to to his waist in a waterfall of gleaming jet. He was intriguing and mysterious, and I couldn't tear my eyes from him. Finally, he lifted his gaze to mine and smiled at me. That was how it all started, with a beautiful, tremulous smile. It made me feel rebellious and reckless. It made my head spin and took my breath away. It made me think there was something else to life besides horses and family.

From the moment that I met Galion, I was overcome by an overwhelming desire to rebel and change my life. For the last two weeks of my trip to Mirkwood, we spent every evening together. I sat with him and his friends discussing politics, culture and the roles of men and women in our respective races.

Hundreds of leagues from home, cocooned deep in the caves, I felt happier than I could remember. I was with people whose main concern was to battle the evil that threatened to overcome their joyous way of life. The sort of things that consumed my time- the struggle to find a husband before old age overcame youth, the endless stream of dirty stables to clean and horses to sell- seemed ridiculous here, it was a relief to be living a more simple life.

I didn't speak elvish, but I believed I had stumbled upon the very essence of life, and at the heart of it was the butler, Galion.

One night, we walked hand in hand to my room and undressed without speaking. He left his clothes neatly folded on a chair in the corner before climbing into bed and wrapping his arms around me. Even through the thick walls, I could almost hear the icy wind whipping through the trees, but I was warm and safe inside.

From the moment we because lovers, we were a couple. I had been in Mirkwood for only ten days, but, like a lovesick girl, I couldn't bear to be apart from him. A kind of madness had descended on me.

When he sat next to me I breathed him in. He smelt of wind, pine and fresh mountain air. I looked at him and saw salvation.