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Edhelvain
Edhelvain, also known as Redoril
| Name | Edhelvain |
|---|---|
| Status | Active |
| Occupation | Wanderer of Eryn Lasgalen |
| Age | She isn't quite sure; she knows she is older than most, yet younger than many. |
| Race | Elf |
|---|---|
| Residence | The forests of Lasgalen |
| Kinship |
| Outward Appearance | Now there was movement; a figure that seems to peel away from the trees themselves, who walks with a step so light that not even the leaves bristle underfoot.
A single ray of the sun reveals sharp silver eyes upon a face painted with dirt and bark; long dark hair is woven with leaves, a motif that continues down her entire armor; leather and what can be wrought from the woods come together to make the wearer appear to be a part of the forest.
Mud-stained fingertips run along with the cracked bark of the old Felegoth trees as the figure walks closer, her head tilting curiously, but with so slow a motion that her hair falls over her shoulders like the easy wave of the leaves caught in the wind. |
|---|
Background
"The Wood Elves of Mirkwood are not like their kin. They're less wise and more dangerous."
Edhelvain is as true a Silvan as they come, being of the blood of the ancient Nandor who did not leave the Vales of Anduin so many Ages ago. The woods and fens of Eryn Lasgalen have long been her home; she resents the pride of the Noldor, and she resents also when Oropher and Thranduil settled in her lands. She swore no fealty to such a king, though in recent days she is much friendlier with the denizens of Felegoth.
Rarely is she seen venturing out of the wilds of Lasgalen (that which she refuses to call Mirkwood and sees the name as an insult), though if she is to come across a lost or weary wanderer, she has no qualms about assisting them safely through the dark forest. With bow and blade in hand, she is known to be a wandering relic of the Rhovanion itself; most know her by such a name, Redoril.
| Friends | Few who remain in Eryn Lasgalen; fewer still who know where to seek her out. |
|---|---|
| Relatives | Long lost to her, though their names she echoes in an ancient tongue. |
| Rivals/Enemies | She is tempered to all races, and would claim her only true enemies to be the orcs; save, of course, for Noldorin pride. |
| Loves | The forest leaves that turn with the seasons, the hum of Arda beneath her feet, the clarity of her thoughts that comes with solitude. |
|---|---|
| Hates | The brashness of the elder, wiser kin; The Noldo, and to an extent, the Sindar, though only peripherally does she dislike the latter. |
| Motivation | Her home always has been and will always be the Rhovanion and the Vales; Eryn Lasgalen must thrive. |
| Quotes | "Oh, woe to the young, for they only smell the rot!" |
