Celduil was one of two of the Selie siblings. Three centuries his sister's junior, he was taught under both her and their father, a renowned elven swordsmaster, in the ways of their ancestral fighting style only known to those of their keep. Proud of his herritage, the skilled elven swordsman impressed those around him with his keen mind and interest to learn. He also appeared particularly skilled with the bow, proving himself more accurate than those of his peers. The elf spent his years in the defense of his keep and the surrounding lands, often battling hobgoblins and orcs in the protection of the Silver Marches and the nearby city of Silverymoon as a part of an expert militia. Here he was to learn the art of tracking and stealth, often camping out under the moonlight to lay in ambush of a tribe of orcs which was moving too close to the city, or battling with the more dangerous creatures which would frequently move south from the Spine of the World. The days were filled with thrill, adventure, and good company, something Celduil believed he would have for the rest of his life. This, as all fantasy tales go, was not to be.
The keep itself was more an outpost, but a valuable one - they were one of the first defenses of the fine city, a duty they took very seriously. However this was to make them standing targets for those who wished for a clear shot at Silverymoon. The keep was many leagues from the city, meaning it was very rare for any of the elves from there to visit Silverymoon - Celduil had only been there twice himself - and likewise the information and visitors they recieved from there was also scarce and far between. The keep was largely alone in it's defenses - which was ulimately disastrous.
One night, very late, when all of the keep were in reverie or otherwise preoccupied save the guards, a silence lurked into the courtyard and began scaling the walls. There was no warning as the keep came under attack, just the soft thuds of bodies falling one by one to the floor. The guards were dispatched first, none the wiser as his closest companion fell mere meters from him. Finally one brave sentry managed to blow his signal horn. The keep fell into chaos. Warriors quickly grabbed their weapons, mages began uttering their spells, clerics of Corellon rallied all who would come to them and ran to the battlements. Celduil followed one such group, roused from his reverie and confused as the others to what was going on, he ran out onto the battlements where what he witnessed was complete slaughter. The elves, though putting up a remarkable fight, were no match for their prepared opponents - the drow. Even the most elite of the order fell victim in seconds.
It was then, while running to the aid of his fellows, Celduil froze. Pure terror gripped him, unlike anything he'd ever experienced before. The expert elven swordsman found himself unable to move, even as all around him the elves fought valiantly to defend the keep. He watched as his friends and family alike were individually and indiscriminately cut down. Yet still he was not able to do anything. He stared into the eyes of the drow who slowly approached him, laughed in his face. Then hit him over the head with the hilt of his sword rendering him unconscious.
A week later a patrol from Neverwinter discovered the trail of a warband of drow heading toward the mountains. They followed it to a short cave complex where in a gruesome and bloody battle every single one of the drow was slain. Among the various plunders of war they came across a bruised and battered elf, bearly clinging to life. The healers of the group did what they could for him, before taking the wounded elf with them to the city of Neverwinter.
The elf was grateful to his human saviours. When full health returned to him he decided to repay their kindness by enlisting in the Neverwinter Militia. There he stayed for two years, until those who worked with him began to notice a change in his behaviour. The elven swordsman was becoming noticeably more distant and reserved. It was soon after this behaviour started when the elf would go missing for days or weeks at a time from his duties, although always he would return as though nothing had happened. Unknown to the others, the elf was straying into the woods, where eventually he found a following of rangers dedicated to Silvanus. There he found a new faith, and the beginnings of a new life. However, restlessness still stirred in the elf, until one day the Captain of the Neverwintan Militia, a good friend of his and concerned with the elf's welfare, suggested a change of scenery is what the elf needed to ease that which burdened his heart. He told Celduil to seek out a friend of his, a Captain in the Guard in the city of Baldur's Gate. The elf heeded his advice, and soon after, left Neverwinter by boat heading toward Baldur's Gate, where he would endeavour to find work there.
Continuation here