He is the twin brother of Nimephras, and is a full seven minutes older. Belephras believes himself taller as well, though his brother does not think it; this is a huge bone of contention betwixt the two. To an impartial observer, they are exactly the same height. Belephras is a countryman of the Sindar of Mithlond, and he is incredibly wealthy, even by elvish standards, having inherited half of a great fortune.

One day, he took it into his head that he really should see more of the world; with a high heart, and a throbbing pulse, he bravely ventured "all the way down the great East-West road!" to see the sights of the house of Lord Elrond, and see if the travelers’ tales were true, and that this hall was, in fact, the finest in Eriador, and adjudge for himself if it truly is the epicenter of high culture, as widely believed. He prefers to keep himself safely cloistered indoors, surrounded by the things he loves - bottles of hair-dressing, decanters of perfume, exquisitely-crafted jewelry, and several dressers and closets crammed full of the most sumptuous clothing: all the materials he needs for achieving an exalted position in life - or at least happiness, so he believes.

He can tell one where to find the best milliner, and what are the best colours for one’s complexion, and the proper way to arrange flowers, for best effect. He is always fussing over his hair, or his clothing, or smoothing his arched eyebrows with a moistened finger, when he is not wearing his nice soft gloves, crafted from the supplest lambskin. The talk of fighting, and wars, quite startles him; he thinks such blustering talk is most unfashionable, and he will try his best to change the subject to a topic that is more pleasing to his delicate ears.

He is rather high-strung, and hypochondriacal, as Elves go; and often imagines up various aches and pains, in a plea for attention.  Although he thinks that he puts on a good show of appearing quite confident of himself, he is anything but: hence his dependency upon his brother and his bottle of smelling-salts, and his need for keeping himself and the thin, brittle veneer of his world carefully ordered and perfectly polished; anything else would remind him that the world is a brutal place, full of ugliness and broken dreams. Because of his sheltered life, and almost complete lack of intellectual curiosity, he has seen very little of the wide world itself. If he needs advice, he will ask his brother for it, because Nimephras rarely disagrees with him, excepting, of course, the matter of their height discrepancy. If he needs cheering up, he will put on his finest silken gown, and his best adamant diadem with the tiny gold filigree flowers, placed atop his perfectly coiffed hair, and sit someplace conspicuous, smiling and blinking vapidly at all the passersby, hoping for someone to notice his rare and delicate beauty, and reward his lavish efforts with a compliment. Year after year, there are always more clothes to buy, and more beautiful things to collect - what more does one need in life? - yet why is more never enough?

“No, Mother dear, this rowdiness is not the thing for me. I might get my clothes dirty.” - said at age two with a firm shake of his lovely locks, upon looking wide-eyed at several of his kinsmen sword-sparring.

“As sure as there are little green goslings poking their heads up through the snow!” Belephras is unsure what this means exactly, "but it sounds positively evocative!"

“It was such a far and tiresome way, traveling from Mithlond to Imladris: I shall not stir from these Halls a long while.” (This declaration was met with a low communal groan by the residents there.)