Raised in the pleasant realm of Lindon, Linnethril has a deep love for the land of her birth. She has only recently travelled farther east than Amon Sul. Imladris - a name of hinted mystery - is a place of rumour and tale that she has only just visited. She has no urge to ever pass beyond the Hithaeglir to those dark lands of Rhovanion that lie beyond; Linnethril is content to accept them as the mountains that give birth to the dawn of each day - nothing more.

For Linnethril, the west is where her heart is content to dwell, wandering under its trees, and by its sweet waters. She sees her role as a guardian of its beauty. Hill and forest, beast and bird - all are to be treated with respect and nurtured. Where she must kill, Linnethril tries to do so as swiftly and painlessly as she may, to avoid any unnecessary suffering. Her knifework may seem callous to some, yet she views it as her heartfelt duty to Yavanna to show this tender care to those she dispatches, be they beast, bird...or other. Conversely, she is disdainful of those who treat the act of hunting or killing with sloppiness, cruelty or lack of compassion.

Linnethril has developed some skill as a seamstress, and will often while away the hours in the making of a new dress - or the repair of the old - as she sings by the fire.

She enjoys the solitude of nature, listening to its voice, and entwining her own with it; however, Linnethril is not averse to a degree of socialising with friends, with whom she shares the songs she has composed on her patrols of the marches of Ered Luin. Her voice - which may often be heard drifting across the Lhun - is of a most alluring tone and cadence, and (as her name suggests) she is noted among her kin in the Havens as a weaver of songs - a true child of the Lindar!