Tiriel was born in the first age, in Valinor. When he was young, he was always the one staying home instead of playing with the other children because he was an outcast. Being half dark Elf, Tiriel had the fair, fair skin of his Noldo roots, and the dark raven hair of his dark Elf roots. His eyes were a light blue that peirced even the thickest, murkiest shadows and his ears could hear the chirping of a bird from miles away. He was a strong lad for an elf and was always getting into mischeif around the adults. His father, Silwe Palan, left with the rest of his kin when they fled Valinor, taking young Tiriel with him. On the way to Middle Earth, Tiriel’s mother died of greif, for one of her sons was slain. After the death of his wife, Silwe too passed on, leaving Tiriel to fend for himself.

Tiriel traveled with one of his sisters to Imaldris in its early days and there she left him under the care of another Elf Maid. Her name was Mirlos, and she was a beautiful, but ancient fairy. Her hair was a light gold and her eyes of soft honey that glowed with joy whenever Tiriel was near. Tiriel grew to love her as his own mother, and called her so.

It was now the second age. Tiriel sat on the balcony of his home, his dark hair blowing in the chilling breeze. Winter was approaching fast and the clouds drifted overhead, blotching the land with dim rays of light. The flowers closed, hanging their pastel heads and swaying in the gusts of wind. The nightengales lamented the fall of the sun, yet rejoiced in the coming of the night. oiHe looked over the river, the frothing water glinting in the last fading gold before the sun sank below the trees. He was turning fifty the next day, and would finally be considered an adult of his kin. A smile crossed his paper-white face. Mirlos was opening the gate outside their home and coming up the cobblestone walk.

“Mother!” he cried, running down the stairs. She looked up, a soft smile on her face. She embraced him, patting his back. “Your back.” Tiriel whispered.
“Yes, and it seems that the news I bear is no longer joyful, my son.” Mirlos said. “All the lands to the east have fallen to Sauron’s power.”
Tiriel’s joyful expression faded. “What will the Men do? Fade away? Will they not resist?” he asked.
“Gil-Galad has met with Elendil, and they are gathering their armies together… The Last Alliance of Men and Elves.” she said as Tiriel took her burdens off her shoulders.
“I shall go.” Tiriel said as the wind picked up, scattering leaves in his hair. Mirlos glanced up at him, but turned away. She was afraid for her Tiriel.