Born in Tirion a century short of the Darkening of Valinor, Limiriel’s early years were blessed ones. But they were not to last, for she watched as the darkness swept over Tuna, and was at her mother’s side at the time of the Oath Taking. Her father and brother stayed silent, and likewise begged her not to follow her mother into madness. Blinded by the glory of the Noldor and her own pride, she called them cowards and traitors and along with her mother sailed on the stolen ships eastward. Although she took no part in the kinslaying, she laughed at the murmured stories, and ignored heaviness that settled in her heart. 

She found herself at Dagor-nuin-Giliath, and with each slaughtered orc, grew more and more hungry for the sharp delight as her spear sliced through Morgoth's host. She stood with her brother, bloodied and alive, surrounded by the bodies of her fallen kin, and watched the sun rise for the first time and force the Enemy to return to their miserable lair. She swore that she would pursue the Darkness until it was purged from the shores of Middle Earth. She justified her rejoicing in the horrors of battle as desire to avenge the fallen Noldor, but the emptiness that festered as she followed her mother to Hithlum grew into a fierce and dark discontent. The training sessions were never long enough, the bruises of her opponents never enough. Reckless and bloodthirsty, she was thrown from the ranks in disgrace. Her mother, ashamed of her daughter's behavior, turned her away from the King's lands. 

"Go. Your loyalty is not to your King, not to your Kin, and not to your family. Go, go and find a House that will accept you and your darkness. You are no daughter of mine."

Limiriel left in disgrace. Her brother and father lay to the South, but she headed East, lurking around the edges of Angband, heading east. For years, she decimated whatever scouting partied she came across, driven by the ever-growing, gnawing need for more and more blood on her hands. Now and again, news came through passing parties of elves, but she only cared for the next day's kill. Eventually rumor grew of a dark creature that only lived to kill; one of Morgoth's creatures. 

A band of daring dwarves hurrying to Belegost made their way through those haunted lands, and were attacked as they made camp. They overpowered the creature and captured it, marching it to Belegost and throwing it in a dungeon. Her captors were surprised to find an elf under the filthy, ragged furs. Limiriel would only throw snarled curses and growl at her captors, but the Naugrim found it amusing and let her live. Over time, her wardens grew accustomed to their foul-tempered prisoner and after a decade or so, even fond of scraggly elf. On her part, Limiriel's curiosity for the dwarves and their strange ways grew. She took an interest in their clever crafts and their harsh language. Eventually, when she trusted herself enough not to simply slaughter the Naugrim, she demanded a trial. Much to her surprise, she was granted her freedom. But she asked to remain in Belegost and stay among the dwarves to learn from them. Although reluctant at first, her insistence on not being given a weapon seemed a show of good faith. She sought out a famed woodworker named Garnuf - an exceedingly unpleasant character who spent several decades making her life horrible and interesting. He taught Khuzdul and showed her what he had learned from Cirdan himself, as well as the dwarven additions he had made. 

The death of her teacher seemed a sign, and Limiriel made her way west. Guilt at her neglect of the Oath stabbed at her. She was warily accepted into Fingon's guard - under a different name. She continued to fight against the awful hunger, choosing to obey out of loyalty and hoping for redemption. But Morgoth's gathered forced struck too soon, and his strength was unleashed on Beleriand. Limiriel was glad for the seemingly endless battles, but she now truly wept each time; angry tears for the devastation the Enemy imposed upon her kin. 

When the Eastern Alliance finally assembled and marched forth, she found herself fighting among the Naugrim when the Men on their front turned on their allied and assaulted them. She stood with the dwarves, lunging forward and tried to stall the turning tide until Glaurung arrived and she was forced to flee with her kin as the dwarves held off the dragon. Hithlum lost, she fled to Amon Ered until word of the host at Mount Dolmed reached them. Homeless, and beginning to understand the doom of her kin, she found herself in the counsel of Maedhros. 

When news of the Silmaril’s emerged, and the plans for their retrieval announced, dread settled in her heart. Yet still she marched behind the king; blood and tears mingling as she tried to hold back the thrill of battle. Limiriel had not been guilty of the first Kinslaying, but as they emerged from Doriath unsuccessful in their quest, no longer. She could not bear to face any but those as guilty as herself, so she stayed with the king and his retinue until a time for even greater evils arose. As Sirion rose before them, Limiriel stayed her horse and watched the host march forward, the smoke arise from the town, listened to the screams - and did nothing. She could not fulfill her Oath, but she could not force herself to justify the madness any longer. There would be no rest for her in Middle Earth, and no passage to Aman. Alone in the darkness, she turned east. She heard the breaking of Beleriand from the Grey elves, and made the decision to seek out Galadriel. She was the High Queen of the Noldor, and had not made the same mistakes as the rest of their kin. To her surprise, she found her brother among the Lady's host. There was little joy and fewer stories at their meeting, but they were reconciled and Limiriel was glad. Together, they passed into Eregion and helped establish Lothlorien. While her brother became a high-ranking official, she chose to remain a warden and keep her freedom.