Pellúvion was an elf from Nargothrond, the stronghold of Finrod Felagund, built beneath the hills of Taur-en-Faroth. There he dwelt with his father, a heedless and distant elf, and the wind carried his heart as far as Ossiriand. It was his father's love for adventure and an insatiable curiosity that lived within him, to see all that could be seen. Pellúvion minded not their empty home, for his father would return with small trinkets and gifts from his adventures. A flower, or a figure carved from wood. Neither father nor son knew of the darkened shadow that hung over the realm, and soon their years of peace came to an end. It is not a tale the elf would tell, for it filled his heart with many woes. 

As a nimble and wordless elf, he slipped away from the fall of Nargothrond, and later the Havens of Sirion. It was Mithlond where he found home again, a feeling he had longed for deeply even before the last kinslaying. He spent his time molding and shaping clay, painting on wooden boards to capture the most beautiful scenes. His mother had been a potter, and though he had not known her, he felt comfort in her craft. Which was intricately, and frequently practiced throughout the ages. Through art, he could breathe, and his sorrows eased. It was a light returned to his life, one that he wished to share amongst the growing shadow, for joy to return to all who lost sight of it. 

He spent much of his time venturing out to find spectacular views to paint and ensured safe passage for those who followed. There was still much to see in Middle Earth, and Pellúvion was not eager to move through life quickly. Though he dreamt of the light that peered over the horizon of the sea, yearned for the great ships that sailed in the distance, and far beyond it.