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Question: Write the POV transformation story of the average male human reader turning into a fantasy elf complete with a tunic, a cape, long boots, leather gloves, pointy elven ears, thin and lean yet athletic body, handsome and ethereal-looking face, no facial hair on the lower half of his face (he keeps his eyelashes and eyebrows however), pale skin, beautiful blue irises in his eyes, and long blonde hair (not a Christmas elf, fantasy elf) complete with age change, supernatural powers gain (including but not limited to being immortal and forever youthful), language shift (changing from English to an elven language, yet the reader now completely understood this new language whilst no longer remembering English), reality change (the reader's real world warping and becoming the fantasy medieval world), and mind/mental change (with the reader's personality and memories replaced with an elf's personality and memories, despite his best efforts on fighting off the new memories and personality, making him completely forget about being a mortal human and only remember being an elf). The transformation is permanent (meaning it is forever) and is completely irreversible. The story is that the reader was visiting a museum containing very old books and other historical artifacts, where the reader finds a book that is all about medieval fantasy creatures, he then opens the book, causing the blinding light to engulf him and thus caused the whole transformation to occur. During the mental changes, the reader is truly terrified/horrified about losing his own memories and personality as a human (as well as forgetting his previous language), so he tries to fight against the new memories and personality (even screaming for help from his family/friends, crying out in tears, as well as attempting to shake his head as an attempt to get rid of the emerging elven memories/personality), but his mental fight is in vain, making him completely forget his mortal and mundane human life and he only remembers being a medieval-era elf (complete with a new name fitting for an elf, rather than an old human name he once remembered having). To aid in the now-elven reader's transforming mind, an adult female elf from a nearby elven village (who caused the book to transport the reader into a medieval world and transformed into an elf himself) comes up to the reader and comforts him with a gentle hug, an affectionate kiss, quietly singing an elven lullaby to the reader, and telling him to remember who he really is (an elf), making the reader realize that the elf woman comforting him is his caring, understanding, and loving wife (whom the elf reader truly loves, cares, and understands, having always known her), and the reader is genuinely happy to know that his previous human life was only a dream (he is completely unaware of ever being a mortal/human) and is happy that his life as an elf (he enjoys being with his elf wife, whom he married centuries ago) is his only true life. There should also be quotes from the characters in this story so we know what they're saying and what they're thinking. Not only that, but there should be quotes in elven language (as well as the translations for those who don't know what those elven words mean), even the reader's language shift during his panic. Also, it is a POV reader story, so it should not be in an author's point of view (my, I, mine, etc), and it should be from the point of view of the reader (you, your, etc).
Strolling through the hushed halls of the museum, your attention is diverted to an unusual book resting in display. Its binding appears ancient, and its contents are said to be dedicated to the study of medieval fantasy creatures - a subject that intrigues you out of innocence, or perhaps, a hidden long-held fascination. Today, you would discover that this interest was not unfounded. As you open the book, a blinding light engulfs you. It feels as if the world around you shatters, dissolving the man you once were into a cascade of starlight. In a torrent of sheer, unadulterated energy, it reforges you into something... different. Almost divine. Panic wells up inside as something alien begins to invade you, coursing like wildfire through your very being. An innate terror of losing yourself flares up - your unique perspective of life, your personal quirks, the sound of your own voice; everything that made you ‘you’. Among the mental tumult, you struggle to keep hanging on to your identity. While grappling with your fright, your body feels decidedly different - agile but lighter, like a prancing dear. Looking down, the cotton shirt and jeans have disappeared, in their place a green tunic, a billowing cape, and long boots. A pair of leather gloves enclose your now thin, nimble fingers. Your once stolid human form has merged to an elongated version of grace and elegance, shimmying with raw, natural abilities. Forlorn, you reach up to your ears, now pointy and elongated. The familiar stubble on your face is gone, replaced with smooth, pale skin. Your reflection shows a face too handsome to be human, yet marked with a touch of the ethereal. The rich cerulean of your eyes look back at you, paired with flowing, golden locks cascading down to your shoulders. Your mind is shifting too, old words and phrases turn to dust as a new tongue takes root. The transition is puzzling as English slips away, replaced by flowing elven fluency. “Tano i lambe nórenya allen!" You heard yourself cry. Fear taking the lead. As you fall to your knees in despair, the scenery around morphs into a medieval countryside, the once sterile museum replaced by fertile vineyards, flowering meadows, and clear streams. The panic is so stark that you call out for help in despair. Your tears mix with your pleas as you try to cling to what was being taken from you. “Legolas, hir nín, lasto beth nín,” a soft voice beseeches. The words are foreign, yet you knew they were asking you to listen to their words. An elven woman, dressed in flowing robes, appears to comfort you. Her touch is soft, her words, like gushing spring waters, soothing you. Her voice swirls around you, reminding you of your purpose - who you truly are. "Sí, nín gwend. Annatha. Elvellon, annatha,” she insists. You can only retain “Yes, my love. Remember. Elf-friend, remember.” Even amidst your struggle, the tantalizing pull of these alien memories is growing stronger. A thousand lianas of entwined memories and emotions emerge and etch themselves into your soul. It's not just a language shift or a physical transformation—it's like being granted a new existence altogether, weaving a tapestry of a time-stilled elven life, fascinated with the beauty of both night and day. Inundated with the reality of the situation, you finally surrender to the whispers. “Legolas…”, you murmur, recognising it as your name in the elven tongue. In the arms of the elven woman, your wife Tinúviel, the despair eases replaced by the serenity of the new understanding. A sense of peace washes over you as you cradle your 'new' memories, your life as an elf, now stretching before you. “Valar efiminyo andúna-ve,” you whisper unihibitedly now, “The gods have granted me life eternal.” Your words shape the star-kissed night as a tender smile curves Tinúviel's lips. You finally understand - you were never truly human, but an elf lost in another reality. Now, you were home. The dread dissipates, giving way to a shared tranquility. The unquestioning desire of the medieval scenic beauty, your radiant Elven wife, and the charm of everlasting life dawns upon you. Embracing the inevitable, the acceptance overwhelming, you acknowledge that perhaps, the transformation was never a curse, but a long-awaited reunification with your true Elven self.
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