Her name was Ithildin and she knew this only because of a memory in her heart. Long ere she was old enough to wield a sword, her heart would whisper this name to her and she knew not what it meant, only that it seemed to belong to her. So she took this as her name and this she was called by the peoples of Middle-Earth.
She was raised in the home of an elderly couple, in the House of Friends, or the Herth-Milui as it was called in the Elven-tongue. Ithildin knew not who her parents were, for she was found as an infant on the shores of the Silverlode by the elderly couple. As a child she had been unlike any the elderly couple had ever seen. She had the stolidity of a Man, yet she possessed the grace and beauty of an Elf. Quick were her reactions and lovely was her voice. It did not occur to the elderly couple that the child might possess some Elvish blood. They thought only that she was blessed.
Ithildin loved the people of Herth-Milui very much, but soon she felt a stirring in her heart and a desire to see the lands of Middle-Earth. When she was a young woman, she took up her riding stick, some clothing and food, and prepared to leave. Sorrowful was the day when she departed, for she dearly loved the only parents she had ever known, the only home she had ever lived in and the beautiful land of Mindon Enedh, the Middle of the Hill. She bade farewell to the soft green grasses, the birches young and old and the birds that had awoken her every morning with their sweet song.
Yet the beauty of Mindon Enedh could not conceal the ache in her heart. Herth-Milui was a home to her, a dear cottage nestled among friendly trees and flowers. But it was not her home. And Ithildin so wanted a place to call her home.