Ethlinduil was born in the Blessed Lands, to a Teleri mother and a Noldor father. She had, even by the standards of those who lived in the presence of the Two Trees, a rather blessed life. Her mother's beauty and talent for arts, her father's skill in combat, she was one of the many children born there who were thought to embody the greatest potential of the elvish people. She studied history, and the traditional craft of jewelcrafting, and excelled in both. She also found a great talent in song and runes, and the creation of wondrous alchemical items from the natural world. She had a great love of the natural world of Aman, studying its plants and creatures with intense passion.

Of course, as all who know the race's history can tell, the child of such a union would eventually find her family torn apart. As a young woman she saw her father's kin take arms against her mother's, the Kinslaying forever shaking her view of the world. She doesn't speak about what side she was on at the start, but the fact that she is in Middle-Earth does seem to show she eventually left with her father.

She doesn't speak of other kin she may have left behind, or the fate of her mother during that time, though the melancholy that seems to come over her at those topics often answers well enough despite her.

She marched against Morgoth with her father and his kin, but abandoned them shortly after the burning of the ships. The Kinslaying and that betrayal too heavy a weight on her heart to ever allow her to respect the Noldor in her blood.

Perhaps as some level of penance, or maybe just to see a new 'world' than the one she was used to, she followed those who founded Nargothrond, take up residence underground and join the shadow war against Morgoth's forces. When the leadership changed, and open war was declared, she eventually bore witness to her home yet again being torn apart by war and flame.

This time, however, she did not dwell in grief and shame. Perhaps it was her father's blood in her, but as she saw her new home destroyed by dragonfire and Orc savagery she was filled with a rage she hadn't felt before in her life, and a passion she thought left her since she turned her back on Arda. She took up a relic of her past, a staff once held by her mother, and went to join what would become The War of Wrath.

She had always considered herself an elf of peace, but she found a place in war that she never considered. She fought beside her father and his kin for the first time, and though the war took them from her, she was able to make peace with them in their final days, a gift many others were deprived by Morgoth's cruelty and slavery.

When Morgoth fell Ethlinduil was left feeling hollow. She could not join many of her kin returning to Arda, and had no home on Middle-Earth to return to. She found herself wandering, looking for a place in the world as the Second Age dawned around her.

In her travels, though, she met the other inhabitants of Middle-Earth, the Men and Dwarfs and even the occasional Hobbit, as well as those Elves who did not join the Noldor and the others in their travels to Arda. She found a land of beauty and life, but without the blessings that kept Arda so safe from taint. Middle-Earth was fragile, impermanent, but a land of passion and drive that she thought was lost forever.

As the age went on the shadows of evil crept through the world again, and the 'young' races of this age stood against it. Some fell, many died, but many were noble and heroic, even moreso than some of her own people. She fell in love with these people, and Middle-Earth as a whole.

She met with  many of her people in her time. She found a special home in Lindon, as it reminded her so much of her Telari blood. She stood with the forces of Gil-galad at times, and found a home in his realm, but the wanderlust would often grip her, and she would find herself exploring again.

The Downfall of Numenor broke her heart. The men of Numenor inspired her so greatly, she saw them as so like her own kind, but their corruption was so great, and their assault on Aman so dark, even she couldn't truly argue that the resulting cataclysm was fully unjust. Lindon survived, though, and she worked to aid the tragically small amount of uncorrupted refugees that fled to Middle-Earth. During this she felt the rage she once felt against Morgoth. Sauron, his foul heir, soon grew to be even more contemptable to her than even his master was.

She remembered the War of Wrath, though. She remembered the devastation it brought, the sorrow, the loss. How many more wars could her dwindling people commit to, hoping that the heavens themselves lend their forces to make sure the war is only mostly devastating to the 'winning' side?

She saw hope in the other races of Middle-Earth. She saw people with power, and passion, despite their comparative youth and frailty. How could Men, a people who's entire kingdoms could crumble in a mere childhood to her people stand against Sauron? How could Dwarfs, cunning and wise but oh so greedy and stubborn, ever put ancient grudges aside for the good of all people? How could the 'lesser' Elves, those who never bathed in the light of the great trees, understand the true power they fought for? Not to mention the Hobbits, curious, wonderful, people who seemed to have no desire to join the outer world at all in their own little slice of Arda. These were good, noble, races, but the glory of the ancient days were nothing but legend to them.

So, that is what she dedicated herself to. Legend, story, song. While so many of her people hid away, facing their fading with a quiet dignity, Ethlinduil took to travel with a new purpose. She wouldn't just study the growth of Middle-Earth, she would aid it. She couldn't fight their battles for them, she would support them when she could, but it was no longer the place of her kind to fight these wars. Instead she would dedicate herself to making sure the reason why that is never fades.

Trinkets of her people became objects of power, a simple wooden stag carved by a cousin as practice was a totem of bravery and strength. A potion that would soothe pain could inspire a man to train for days without strain. A song, correctly embellished, could inspire children to grow into great heroes. Bones and stones, read with the knowledge of ages past and a few assumptions and educated guesses, can tell a person's destiny. Her deep knowledge of beasts, and love of nature, can be seen as a supernatural bond with all life.

She never lies. No, to lie would be cruel. To tell a man a magic rock would make him shrug off a crossbow bolt would be evil. But, to tell him that that same rock, a simple polished gem carved by master's hands, once belonged to a great hero, who never flinched even as the arrows of horrific orc archers flew by his head. Well, who's to say that wouldn't inspire that man to live up to such a legacy?

So many think magic is gone from the world, and maybe they're right. The Dark Lord rises in Mordor and perhaps he has hijacked what little magic remains for his own evil deeds. Who's to say, though, that magic can't return? Maybe all it needs is a push, maybe all it needs is belief. Maybe the only thing that truly divides the men of Rohan, the Dwarves of The Misty Mountains, the Hobbits of The Shire, and even the Noldor themselves, is belief. It's so easy to believe in your power when you've bathed in the light of the ancients. Why shouldn't those not so lucky get a little boost of their own?

Many of her kind look down on her. They think she refuses to simply fade away with dignity. To see an Elf in a bar in Bree laughing and singing with some bard who's not even been alive long enough to be a child to her. To see that same elf try to sell the man a trinket that was made as mere practice, paling in comparison to a true master's work, and attaching a grand story that never happened to it. It's a shameful sight to some, and Ethlinduil doesn't try to argue with that. Still, she feels she's making the right choice. Why else did her people remain in Middle-Earth, if not to help the younger races stand on their own?