Most men of Eriador know little of the woman who wandered the crumbled walls of the ancient towers of the late third age. For she tarried in villages only at need and spoke little. “One of them rangers though harmless enough”, that is, if any take any note of her at all. 

Those who do attempt to engage her find an awkward but earnest woman, though bright and strange kindles the light in her eyes when stirred to tell ancient stories of sea-farers and fair folk, or of the kings and lords who once ruled the towers that now lie in moss-covered heaps

She has been rarely seen in lands of men for several years, but now from time to time returns, less close than in days of old, yet just as seemingly disconnected from the world around her. By her side is a large wolf-dog of Forochel, as over-enthusiastic and friendly as the woman is reserved. 

The Dúnedain of the North might know a little more of her—though more would have known her late husband, the ranger Alphdir. He was friendlier and more open than she, and wandered often with other rangers around the North Downs, and in the lands of Dunland befriended members of the Stag Clan. 

From Imdathir she hails, a small and marshy village not far from Tornhad. Though few except those also interested in scholarly pursuits knew her well, the women of her family have long been known as lore-keepers. In her youth her love of the past and lust for knowledge took her to the hidden fortresses of the Dúnedain and the ancient ruins of Arnor. Gwetheril herself was always most enchanted by the tales of the Eldar, who at rare times would ride through the Angle, or be seen dancing in the silver mist of the moonlit night. 

Shortly after her marriage Alphdir was sent out again to Dunland, on a short reconnaissance mission in the growing rumours and unrest before the war. She stayed in the Angle, but when a year had come and gone with no word from him, she resolved to seek him—going all the way to Dunland if necessary. 

After some time she returned to the North and came to Imladris, accompanied by Glirwing the Elf. She brought word of her husband’s death, but spoke little of what had befallen them in Dunland. 

She did not again dwell in Imdathir, but took to wandering, bearing her husband’s sword, and seeking to defend by any means the remnants of their history. She poured all her efforts into searching the past—a past that felt like it slipped away into a story of constant decline. She wandered through the ruins of Arthedain and Rhudaur, searching perhaps for some design in the warp and weft of history, feeling the weight of the grief of the end of an age and the departing of the Eldar. 

But the lore-keeper had no skill in arms, and became increasingly reckless in her journeys, delving even into the frozen and long-forgotten mines of Forochel. At last she vanished, riding to the West and speaking to few of her plans. 

She came at last to the shores of Lindon, and there tarries, seeking to preserve the stories of the Eldar before they depart Middle Earth forever. She travels most often with the crew of the Elvish ship the Limsúl, only rarely returning to the lands of men. 

Gwetheril maintains friendships with a few Dúnedain, but has shown little interest in their rebuilding after the war. Still the past is her concern, and little note does she take of the present.