Faerveldis was born in Gondor, to the House of Galunir. Her father, Maethon, was a Captain of the Guard of Gondor, a Knight. Her mother, Gweririen, was an esteemed seamstress of the city. Their relationship was loving, yet the couple was reserved. After the birth of their daughter, however, they became more sociable with their neighbors and social circle. 

 Faerveldis was a very effervescent little girl, who loved to talk to anyone and everyone she met. She loved to play outside with other children in the city and had nary a care or worry in the world. There was no way for her to expect what was coming next. At the age of seven, Maethon refused to execute orders that he felt would compromise his morals, and it resulted in the death of Gondorian citizens. This led to the shunning of himself and his family, and the disgrace of him as a Captain. It took only a few months of social shame and ostracization before they made the decision to leave Gondor behind entirely.

 They settle in the small, frequently-overlooked town of Archet in the Bree-lands, far from the White City of Gondor, in the shadow of the proud  Minas Tirith. With nowhere else to turn, Maethon hung up his sword and took up the toiling work of managing a farm on the edge of the Archet Vale. 

 While Maethon was still fiercely proud of their Gondorian heritage and passed that ferocious love down to his daughter, although Faerveldis long asked why they were not returning home. Gweririen would never give an answer, and she denounced anything to do with Gondor after the way they were inadvertently and, in her opinion, unfairly pushed out. 

Faerveldis knew life from that point on as long, blistering days toiling the farm under the sun’s heat. She knew them as running between helping her father with the fields, and her mother with household chores. She knew them as playing in the nearby stream when she could get the chance and staring up at the moon and stars at night. Faerveldis knew life in Archet as innocent bliss, until she was old enough to recognize the shifty glances and quickened paces of the locals whenever she was around. Bree-land was not fond of strangers, and they were certainly strange. 

 Nevertheless, even as she earned her keep on the farm, Faerveldis longed to one day return to Gondor. Although many of her memories were now blurred by the years between, she could still recall the beautiful White City of Minas Tirith. Stories that her father passed down only fanned the passion of those flames, and she planned to leave the farm one day. As the years passed, however - sixteen long, grueling years in Archet - she thought the day would never come where she could leave her parents on their own.

 Yet one day, the chance came in the way she least expected and hoped. Brigands, who raided and burned the town of Archet. Her father defended their farm fiercely with the hired farmhands, while her mother forced Faerveldis to hide inside. Maethon perished in the field that day, spear in hand. Although stricken by grief, Faerveldis wanted revenge. She went through the house and found her father’s old greatsword and the sheath. On the leather sheath was a crest emblazoned, two elegant swans twisting around each other to form a ‘G’ - the crest of the House of Galunir. 

 Faerveldis took only enough of her own coin to support herself to Bree, leaving the rest to her mother to support the farm. She took a knife and cut her hair short, just above her shoulders. She pawned an old hauberk from a neighbor, ill-fitting enough to disguise her form, and donned her dirty old cloak. She packed up essentials, readied one of the farm-horses, and left in the night for Bree. Although her goal is Gondor, she will make sure those brigands taste her blade first.