Born thirty years before the closing of the First Age, Nilfalath has witnessed countless trials, numerous conflicts and the beginning of a few ages.

Her father Argrist, with the Doom of the Noldor upon him, lived only a few short years after the birth of his first and only child. Caught up in the matters of the time, he was slain; his body maimed and burnt, and his head returned to his kin wrapped in an animal hide. Nilfalath, being but a child at the time, was deeply affected by the cruelty shown to her father’s corpse, and the utter destruction of her family home shortly thereafter. The house of Argrist had been built in the harbor city of Brithombar, and the young Nilfalath had spent time on the piers amongst the shipwrights and their magnificent vessels, passing her days surrounded by the cry of gulls and the melody of lapping waves.

When the forces of Morgoth came, raizing the haven to the sandy ground, her mother fled, clutching the horrofied elf-child to her breast. Nilfalath’s arms had been outstretched, reaching over her mother’s shouders and towards her now burning home, her one hand grasping at the smoke-filled air and the other clutching a small pearl pendant.

As the people of Círdan found refuge on the isle of Balar, so too did Firithkal and her young child. From FA 472 until the completion of the havens at Mithlond, they stayed, Nilfalath’s mother sinking steadily deeper into her grief as the years passed.

Settling in the Grey Havens, in a house by the water, seemed to lighten the heavy and repressive air that had fallen over Firithkal, but that lasted only for a time. On the centennial of Nilfalath’s birth, her mother finally departed from the shores of Middle Earth, and took the Straight Road into the Uttermost West.

Since that day, Nilfalath has been alone, keeping the house in its quiet solitude and opening her doors to the misfortunate souls who happen by.