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Name: Lithorel Falmarin
Pronounciation: LITH-o-rel (NOT LOTHIRIEL)
Race: elf
Age: young. born end of 2nd age.
Gender: male
Background: Lithorel was born in Mirkwood and as a young child wanted to be a warrior. His father was one of the kings soldiers and his mother captained a party of archers that patrolled the northern borders. As a little child Lithorel would wander around with sticks tucked into his belt, eager to whip out his 'blade' and duel some other child with a stick. He aspired to be a great warrior, like his parents, when he grew up and all he wanted was to be treated like one of the older children, big enough for propper lessons in archery and swordplay. He wanted to one day travel middle earth, vanquishing foes and defending innocent people.
However, this childish view changed when Lithorel was forced to grow up very quickly. The last alliance was formed and elves of Mirkwood, under the command of king Oropher marched on Mordor. Many did not return, Lithorel's father was one of those who didnt.
Before that incident Lithorel had been a chirpy, bubbly elfling, always grinning from ear to ear, running around, giggling and chattering away about anything and everything. But after his ada did not return from battle, Lithorel's world was shattered. He became quieter and more withdrawn, prefering to spend time by himself with books, which he had always loved, rather than friends. He had been a very intellegent child for his age, and often found his friends' games and ideas somewhat silly and immature. He had tasted what it was like to lose someone dear and didn't ever want to have to feel that way again. He distanced himself from others, with the mentality that if he was close to lots of people, he was more likley to lose lots of close friends. It didn't really make sense to some people, but that was elfling logic.
A year later, Lithorel had been by himself, as usual, in a tree in one of the quiet peaceful parts of the forests with a book. His mother had been brought back hanging to her life by a thread. Her party had been ambushed by orcs on the northern border, and she had been wounded. The wounds ended up being fatal and she died soon after she was brought home.
The sky had began to darken and Lithorel was still in his tree, happily engrosed in the book he was reading. People had been looking for him, for he needed to know the terrible news, even though it would drive the child to despair.
However, no one knew where to find it, for it was Lithorel's intention to remain undisturbed. He had not gone far from home at all, but had hidden himself well, content to enjoy the peace and quiet. Just as the first stars had began to appear, and his stomach had started to grumble, he had wandered home, humming to himself, book under his arm, with not a care in the world. He had been perfectly content, mind still lost in the story in the leather bound book under his arm. As he had wandered towards home, he had come across many an elf with sad expressions on their faces. Lithorel didnt understand why just yet, but the bad tidings were soon made known to him.
One of the few elflings he had remained firm friends with, Calensul, shortened to Cal, wordlessly took him by the hand and pulled Lithorel towards his own home. Cal's mother took Lithorel into her arms and gently explained what had happened. At first Lithorel had been dumbstruck, convinced it was all a very lame joke. He had expected Cal to burst out laughing, and reality dawned on him when he saw tears streaking his friend's face.
Lithorel didnt say a word, merely clenching his teeth before he ran outside and screamed his anger and grief into the wind.
He went from previously quiet and shy to ignoring anyone who spoke to him, lost in his own little world. He refused to eat and for a while afterwards, it looked like the fire inside the elfling would go out and his spirit would fly to the halls of mandos.
However, it was because of the friendship that Lithorel and Cal shared that brought Lithorel back. He would always be quiet and calculating, but no longer despaired, convinced that life was certainly worth living.
But where once was an elfling who wanted to be a warrior like his father, killing orcs and evil spiders like his mother, was a young elf who despised killing of any kind. It was a few years later though, that Lithorel made his choice to follow the path of a healer. He was taken as an apprentice by Mirkwood's cheif healer, and showed huge potential, learning quickly, natural talent also playing into the matter.
Sooner than anyone had expected came a time where the healers of Mirkwood could teach Lithorel nothing more, for already, by now the equivalent of a human teenager, he was outmatching many of the more experienced healers. His knowledge could not match that of the older healers, but the strength of spirit and the natural ability he had been gifted with marked him as a very talented healer.
A few years before his coming of age, Lithorel was old enough and capable enough to defend himself, so with this in mind, he and Cal travelled together to Rivendell, the first real trip out of Mirkwood either of them had ever been on before. Lithorel was trained by Lord Elrond during the years that he and Cal were in Rivendell. Lithorel's talent blossomed during the years in Rivendell, and he was eager to learn all he could from Lord Elrond. Cal, not to be forgotten, occupied himself, flirting with the attractive maidens of Imladaris.
Now Lithorel is one of the best healers in Mirkwood. Though Mirkwood will always be his home, he has spent a lot of time in Lorien as well as Imladaris, as well as travelling with Lorien's army.
Description: Usually perceived by outsiders as grim, silent and unaproachable, by those who know the real him, Lithorel is known to have to gentlest heart. While it may take some time to coax a smile or a chuckle out of him, Lithorel's friends know exactly how to do it. While he does not usually come across as having much of a sense of humour, it is quite the contrary in fact. He is known, by those close to him, to have a wicked, very quick and witty sense of humour.
Lithorel is tall and slim as most elves are, and although not trained as a warrior, but rather a healer, is quite capable of defending himself when the need arises. His eyes are dark blue, closer to grey rather than bright azure and his long hair is silver blonde, usually pulled back out of his face, woven into a long braid which reaches halfway down his back. Lithorel usualy dresses in practical and comfortable attire rather than something ridiculously beautiful.
He is very practical and down to earth, usually the one to difuse a tense situation or to put people in their place. Though ususally quiet and reserved, Lithorel can be as feirce as any if the need arises. He is a peacelover but can accept that sometimes the only way to acheive peace is by fighting for it. Lithorel is a very intellegent person, very resourceful and has been known to have an answer to everything. The phrase healers know best certainly applies to him. He does have the tendancy to worry a little more than nescesary, and is not always the most cheerful person you could meet. However, when the mood takes him, he is just as quick to smile and laugh as any.