Anáwiel was born in the late year 455 on a moonless black winter night, just after the news of the destruction of Ard-Galen had reached Ossiriand. Legend has it, the smoke and the smell of burnt grass and flesh reached the wooded land of the seven rivers that very same day but Anáwiel was sure this was only imagined by the contemporaries, a cruel trick played by people's minds to intensify the shock and horror the news had brought; for Ard-Galen was too far away for there to be even the slightest truth in that statement.

Anáwiel's mother, Faenloth Nathronel, was a weaver of great skill, whose fabrics were in great demand but it was her tapestries which brought her fame and recognition. She was a strong Laegel whose spirit remained uncrushed for long years; she did not break when her parents perished in the First Battle of Beleriand, nor did she succumb to grief when her brother and nephew were killed by an orc raid; nor did she despair when her nieces died one by one in the hands of the servants of Morgoth. But on that day her eldest son had been three years missing, gone north to Minas Tirith to visit his betrothed, a fair-haired elven maid, merchant by trade. And when, late at night, the terrible news of the destruction of Ard-Galen and the capture of Minas Tirith reached her in her home, Faenloth was so anguished, she went into labour but took no joy in the newborn child. Thus she named her Morneniel, for the waters of the lake next to their home were dark, almost black to the eye of the grieving mother. But her husband, Laerdir, who was a minstrel of no small consequence, saw hope in the arrival of this child in this darkest hour and wished her to be his muse and inspiration, his light in the dark times ahead (for deep inside he felt the worst was yet to come); thus he took the words anna (to give) and naw (idea) and joined them and then smoothed them together so it would sound more melodic and poetical to his ears, and so the name Anáwiel came into being.

Years passed but Faenloth's spirit did not heal and she continued to wane; she took no joy in weaving and forsook it completely, the craft which had been her pride and joy, and she dubbed herself Moremel, the black mother. Thus it came to pass that Anáwiel grew up without a motherly love but enjoyed the affection of her siblings and even more of her father. Like most of Laegrim, she was taught from an early age to sing and play various instruments, and shoot a bow and hunt for food but she realized this was not where her true talents lay.Anáwiel had an insatiable curiosity, and enjoyed reading and learning new stories more than any other elves in the small forest settlement, and probably even those in the neighbouring bigger ones. So she took to traveling, usually in the company of her father, who frequently visited the elven kingdoms to present a new lay or a collection of songs, but most of all Doriath, where his sister was married. It was in Doriath, where Anáwiel first met dwarves and was fascinated by them, for even though unlovely and stunted they appeared in her eyes, she had great appreciation for their curious language and even more their skills. So she became an apprentice tinker, and studied it with diligence and zeal unknown to her before. But she did not abandon her passion for knowledge and in her travels she strived to learn every possible language save for Quenya, for it was forbidden and she had no desire to ever speak the language of the accursed kinslayers.

So Anáwiel remained the ever faithful traveling companion of her father, however every time they passed Sarn Athrad she bade the minstrel and the rest of the company wait and turned her gaze east in hope of seeing her dwarf friends; and often she did. And on that bridge she sat for long hours, discussing jewelcrafting and tinkering, and dwarven lore, and the works of Aule, and the company of minstrels stayed on the side, wondering at the curious language and growing ever impatient to continue their journey.

Soon Anáwiel outdid her master in skill and became a master herself but did not come to enjoy the fruits of her effort for long; for Doriath was sacked and laid in ruin and many of her friends and relatives perished in the attack. This deeply grieved the young elf and she recognized the evil of the dwarven greed and it would be many centuries before she would pick up the hammer and tongs and file again; nor did she speak Khuzdul again and from this day on the dwarves turned from friend to enemy (though many centuries after this event it came to pass that she became an emissary in a dwarven clan where she built new friendships but always weary and mistrustful was she and remained bitter). She even wanted to join her kin in taking revenge at Sarn Athrad but her father stayed her hand: "Do not tarnish the memories you have with bloodshed and slaughter, for the sight of Sarn Athrad always filled you with joy and seeing it tainted with your friends' blood will not bring the satisfaction you seek." Hearing this, Anáwiel spat on the ground and shouted in disdain "False friends those dwarves were, and thieves and murderers with no drop of honour". The minstrel took her hand and looked her calmly in the eyes: "It may be so, but let it not be said that those dwarves fell by the hand of someone they considered close enough to give all the knowledge and skill they could afford to. Our friends and kin will be avenged - but not by you. Do not carry this burden of a friend-slayer but rather cherish the good memories, for few they are in these days." And Anáwiel understood what her father said, for it had not been many years since Nirnaeth Arnoediad and now the orcs and wargs roamed freely the lands of Beleriand and caused much grief in their path; and so she laid down her bow and forsook the thought of revenge. And remained in Ossiriand until the War of Wrath.

At the end of the First Age of the Sun many of the Laegrim Anáwiel knew sailed into the West and among them was her mother, not more than a shadow of her former self, and her elder brothers who could not bear to be separated from their mother and kept hopes that they would finally see her recovered. But Anáwiel and her sisters remained along with their father who felt there was no need for minstrels in the West and that many great deeds worthy of song would be accomplished in the Hither Lands before the End of Time.

When the Second Age of Sun began and the Kingdom of Lindon was established, Anáwiel started to frequent to bigger cities of the Falathrim and fell in love with Belegaer. In one of those cities she met a Noldo, formerly of the host of Fingolfin and now in the service of Gil-Galad, and felt the joy of love and that time was the happiest for her, for they got married and had children of their own, four sons and a daughter, all inherited their father's valour and their mother's thirst for knowledge. This was a time of bliss and even though Anáwiel never fully abandoned her travels, she never stayed away from home for long then.

When the time of the Last Alliance of Elves and Men arrived, Gil-Galad summoned all able-bodied elves who could yield a sword from the kingdom and Anáwiel's husband and children marched with him, but Anáwiel herself did not march with them, for a long time ago had she abandoned her bow in favour of the staff and her fighting skills had been neglected. But Laerdir, Anáwiel's father, marched with them too, even though he was not a warrior of any consequence. For, as he said, this would be a battle to remember and someone must record its course and the valiant deeds of men and elves. Many elves marched into the East but few of them returned. The losses were great and whole families had been wiped out, and those who remained, were stricken with grief and despair. Fair Gil-Galad had fallen and with him many of his host. Among them was Anáwiel's husband, and two of her sons, and with them had perished Laerdir the minstrel stricken by a poisoned orcish arrow. Her remaining children brought her a bunch of papers, stained with mud and blood and filled with her father's writings and upon studying them she noticed his beautiful handwriting change as the venom had been working its ways on him and he was getting weaker and weaker - to his last he had recorded events and created poetry even with his dying breath.

Not many years after, Anáwiel's children sailed into the West, for they saw no hope in Middle Earth and having witnessed the faithlessness of men, were eager to leave this place behind and leave them alone to their struggle. Anáwiel did not have her father's eloquence and talent and failed to dissuade them from doing so and after many tries she finally gave up and made peace with herself and her children's decision, comforting herself that at least there they would be safe from harm. And when the time came for departure she did not weep but smiled and was glad; but however tempting it was to follow them into the West, she resisted the urge, determined to continue Laerdir's legacy. But to her children she gave his notes, as a parting gift, so that they remind them that the sacrifices had not been in vain and something good remained; and also, so their brethren in the West know about what had transpired and be inspired by its glory. Bittersweet was the parting, for there is hardly anything more painful on earth than a mother being separated than her children.