Linglorel ( sindarin: ’woman of the golden tune’ ) was born around TA 2018 during the Third Age in the Woodland Realm of Mirkwood, where the Wood Elves lives and her home was beneath the shade of a widespreading oak. She dressed in flowers and her hair was golden in color. She had the beauty of heaven and earth on her face and in all her works. Among her people she was highly regarded because of her kindness and grace.

Her kin, Tawarwaith, hid themselves in woodland fastnesses and became small and scattered people. They wished indeed to become silvan folk and to return, as they said, to the simple life natural to the Elves before the invitation of the Valar had disturbed it. They desire to meddle as little as might be in the affairs of the Noldor and Sindar, or of any other peoples, Dwarves, Men, or Orcs.

Linglorel's duties were few and simple. She kept hurtful weeds from growing beneath her trees and sapping the earth-food required by her charges. She frightened away the spiders, who took evil delight in flying against the tree-trunks and wounding them so that they drooped and died from the poisonous contact. In dry seasons she carried water from the brooks and pools and moistened the roots of her thirsty dependents. 

That was in the beginning. The weeds had now learned to avoid the forests where elves dwelt; the loathsome spiders no longer dared to come; the trees had become old and sturdy and could bear the drought better than when fresh-sprouted. So Linglorel's duties were lessened, and time grew laggard, while succeeding years became more tiresome and uneventful than the elf maiden joyous spirit loved. 

Truly the forest-dwellers did not lack amusement. Each full moon they danced in the forest before the king Thranduil. There were also the festiwal of Mereth Nuin Giliath, Feast of Starlight and the Tarnin Austa, Gates of Summer. But these periods of enjoyment were far apart, and left many weary hours between.

That a Wood Elf should grow discontented was not thought of by Linglorel's relatives. It came upon her only after many years of brooding. But when once she had settled in her mind that life was irksome she had no patience with her condition, and longed to do something of real interest and to pass her days in ways hitherto undreamed of by forest kind. 

When she was young, Linglorel would practice singing. Her father  taught her everything he knew, such as about plants and herbs, while their cousin, a ranger, taught her archery and how to cross a field in a hurry. But Linglorel's joy was rather in the dance, and no names in the forest are set with hers for the beauty and subtlety of her twinkling feet. It was delight for her to fare away from the cavernous palace of the Elvenking and spend long times amid the trees, where she danced like Nessa on the never-fading green in the rose gardens of Valinor. The place that she loved the most was a shady spot, and elms grew there, and beech too, but these were not very tall, and there Linglorel danced until the evening faded late, and there were many white moths abroad, flittered about her head. Linglorel being a elf minded them not as many of the children of Men do, although she loved not beetles, and spiders will none of the Eldar touch because of Ungoliant.

But she developed a curiosity about the world, which led to her becoming an adventurer. Linglorel had gotten bored of her tiresome forest life and left home—which made everything in the human realm new and fascinating. Foolish and uncivilized sometimes, to be sure, but she couldn’t expect mortals to live up to elvish standards. While her father  was opposed to this, their cousin gave his support. Now she approaches life outside of the forest with a combination of wide-eyed innocence and wonder mixed with an inborn determination to fight against injustice.