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Author Topic: [Hobbit + LotR] Féren  (Read 3658 times)


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« on: January 04, 2015, 11:35:00 PM »


NAME: Féren
NICKNAMES (IF ANY): Little Man, by the goblins he has met, but that’s more of an insult. Silvercloak, some call him in reference to his house.
DATE OF BIRTH AND AGE (AS OF T.A. 2941): 2799 T.A, 142 years old.
PLACE OF BIRTH: The Iron Hills.
RACE: Dwarf

HAIR COLOUR AND APPEARANCE: Light brown hair, once long and somewhat trimmed so the curls would not go out of control, but for the same reason he has no beard, it’s been cut short, and it’s growing back curly as ever. He used to have a lovely long beard mid chest often decorating it with silver stars but further explained into his History, it was cut off forcibly for humiliating, and it’s still growing back.
EYE COLOUR: A curious greenish gray color.
BODY TYPE AND HEIGHT: Short and stocky, as the usual for Dwarves. Very strong indeed, even for a Dwarf’s reckoning, with Dwalin-level muscles. Missing a few inches from the usual dwarf height (some tease him because he’s shorter than his wife).
OVERALL APPEARANCE: He’s a high-ranking general, so he usually wears the colors of his house (black and silver, with red thrown into it when he’s in war councils and the like). Up until recently he liked wearing a gray travel cloak, fitting with the name of his house, but after certain event that will be mentioned he switched it for black, in mourning. He also takes a lot to brown tunics when he’s having a rest at home.
DISTINGUISHING MARKS: His now shaved beard and curly hair, but also some serious scars all over his neck and teasing down to his chest, where the scars get even far worse. He also has a scar under his left eye from a poisoned dagger that was eventually deflected, but led to a nasty infection. He also has some burns in his arms from his days apprenticing as a smith. And if you catch without his boots, you’ll also spot a few missing toes.
WEAPONS: He’s very fond of axes and he has a large warhammer, Bringer. However, after his very recent...humiliation, he’d been taking archery to bring something new to his arsenal.
FACE CLAIM: Jason Clarke.

STRENGTHS: Impeccable combat skills and good at taking chances--particularly impulsive, and that’s a double-edged sword. Very strong, not that fast. He’s also adept at riding even when that’s not very looked well in dwarven combat when you have to wear a mount that’s a smaller version of your enemy’s mount; but, it comes in handy when inspecting troops! He’s also a fair strategist and knows when to use diplomacy, somewhat unlike his lord Dáin.
WEAKNESSES: Weaknesses in combat include favoring his left hand too much, not being very fast, impulsivity as mentioned before; he never wants to admit defeat. That got him into the biggest setback of his life, which is now giving him some trouble with shell shock. Mentally, he’s sometimes very aggressive and thinks only in defending himself (but that’s mostly in battle), and he’s given to forgetting promises in the heat of the moment.
ASPIRATIONS: Féren wishes to serve his lord dutifully enough to earn his dwarven house some glory. That’s mostly it. And keep himself, his wife, and his family alive and well.
FEARS: He fears being killed in battle and his lineage being forgotten with him. He also fears for the safety of his wife in these troubled times. One of his worst fears has already become true, anyways...
PERSONALITY: Féren has always been a hot-headed warrior since he’s been able to walk. Even as a child, he was reckless and always getting himself into scrapes exploring all he could of the small Silvercloak estate until he knew the land like the palm of his hand. He enjoys knowing where he battles before he actually does, but when he doesn’t have to chance, it’s all the same. He just prefers knowing his surroundings--which is why some trades with Men he doesn’t really enjoy. Féren is all for hands-on learning and works, such as fighting, and that one time during his young adult years when he apprenticed himself as a smith.

Even if he is a bit old for it, Féren sometimes has quite a mouth on him. Tempered with age, the dwarf will not be sarcastic or outspoken with his superiors, or with anyone who might harm him, but around his mates...he can be quite funny and snarky at times.

But this dwarf is also quite intelligent. He knows how to read and write as befits his rather high station, and while he is no scholar, he knows his works well. His mother always tried to instill bookishness into him as a boy to try and clear away some of his explorations, but it was to no avail. His intelligence is mostly shown through battle tactics. When he entered Dáin’s army, that’s when he learn to control his temper and channel it through stratagem. Because of this, he is most often seen as a cold fellow by those who only pass him by. However, he is actually quite close to his brothers-in-arms and not that bad a person.

It is difficult for him to look past what shows up in the moment, but certain moments in his life let him acquire the wisdom to look beyond the moment and beyond his well-being and stand by his family in times of trouble. Before he merely wanted a fulfilling life, being in great battles, but after this certain point he decided to stay steadfast and take charge of his household’s management for good, and stop being so reckless...even if it’s not much to repeat yourself that in the heat of the battle, especially to Féren.

But, in spite of all this ice and fire personality on the outside, he can also temper both sides and be quite warm to those he cares about. He was not a very friendly character with women, being centered on remaining the rock of his household, but he finally gave in to her pleading for them to marry, and gladly accepted to walk through life at her side. Féren doesn’t often use charm with the rest of the world, but his more private companions certainly do know better how funny and kind he can be when you strike him the right way. He is also very kind to novice warriors, unlike some other generals, and encourages them to remain wise and honorable and loyal to their land, family and king no matter what happens.
HISTORY:  Féren was the third of six sons of Dérn, who came from a long line of advisors to the king of the Iron Hills, and from this line, several eons ago, one of its Dwarves earned a reputation by singlehandedly resurrecting the silver economy after famine and pest in the land. Therein, his descendants often carry some epithet tied to “silver”, to the point it was almost mocked by the time of Dérn. However, there was not much to be mocked about this Dwarf, with a land property to his name and line, and six promising sons rising to his name.

Although that count must be shortened to four. The two eldest were too eager in the ways of the world without first thinking, and when Féren was a very young dwarf, only 70, they had fallen into drinking and gambling shamelessly. And one time they were caught stealing, and their trial sentenced death. At this time, Féren was being taught to stay away from both his eldest brothers and was actually doing a stint as a smith’s apprentice. His mother was not eager on the hotheaded Féren going into the world and ending up like Bóren and Dúren. But it served its purpose. Féren watched the execution of his two brothers with a heavy heart, even if his father did not.

And as third son, once his apprenticeship had straightened out his rebel young ways, he was ready to try training duty as a soldier of the Iron Hills. He rose up the ranks with promise, having built up strength at the forges and cunning through the book reading his mother always tried to instill in him. Féren always kept a link with his friends at the forges, and so he found through a friend, his to-be wife: Séla. Séla was by far the most cunning woman he had ever met in his life, and so after a very interestingly subtle courting (it was a lot on indirect flirting and mostly a game between who was the cleverest and most clever), he asked his family for her hand in marriage.

The bond was a happy one for several years, as Féren’s fame in the army grew and grew more, despite him still being reasonably young (he was 82 when he started, and by 92 he has gotten a few commands of repute). Mahal blessed the couple with a healthy and strong son, Báren. Then came three daughters; Míla, Kéra and Dúra. Féren soon became a trusted friend of Dáin Ironfoot, which put him into rather more dangerous situations, such as more violent tasks. Once he did such an impressive ambush on a pack of Orcs taking on a Mithril mine, he was gifted with a cloak of it, and so he won the epithet Silvercloak on his own.

Until his 127th year was that trouble began brewing in the horizon. His estate was in a very far zone of the Iron Hills, almost unprotected, but he did his best at defense. But the most direct attempt on his well-being came when Féren began teaching his son how to hold a bow to learn to hunt, despite being a bookish boy. He brought him on a mere scouting trip with a small group to a relatively safe but abandoned land to their west, and all his troop as well as his son were murdered by a swift but savage Orc pack. The general was gravely wounded in so many ways: he was brought into captivity for humiliation and torture: including several fingers being cut off, as well as his beard and long hair, and being beaten often. It was the most terrifying and miserable moment in Féren’s life, and this four month long captivity nearly drove him to suicidal despair.

It was until his head guard was foolish enough to allow his gambling to lead him to drink too much on watch that he could spirit himself away with almost no clothes and just enough weapons to fight of what Orc happened upon him. He was taken in by Easterlings who found him nearby, and as Iron Hills commerce with that particular tribe of Easterlings was at least tolerable.. He was clothed and fed but then let go. Féren was overcome when he finally returned home, and he saw his wife and three daughters were still living an in fact were doing well, as Séla’s intelligence led her to take her husband’s place in the army council; not as a warrior herself, but as a strategist, like Féren.

Very few mocked him for his trial, but most of the army recognized him as a survivor, and few who laughed at his lack of beard and trimmed hair were of importance. He was still Féren the rising army general, and he resumed his services but Séla maintained her position as a strategist along Féren’s side. Míla herself may be very young, but she’s growing to be as adventurous as her father, and so he’s trying to keep her safe, as he could not keep Báren safe.
AGE: 17.
COUNTRY: Not Puerto Rico. Costa Rica. 
EXPERIENCE: Two years of being in Middle Earth!
OTHER CHARACTERS: Ori, Castamir, Pearl, Leander, Issa and Anitra.
CONTACT: Smoke signal works. If you need more specifics, message in a bottle.
This was already too much trouble for one afternoon!

The raid had gone successful for Fíli and Nori, comfortable with the risk-taking and good and stealth, even in a building full of enemies. They had taken different sections of the library; here and there; if one was caught, the other was making off with the true jewels, that sort of thing. And Nori and Fíli had thankfully gone unnoticed (this was one good thing that Ori could trust of today’s events: at least dwarven books had been smuggled out of Rivermont and were currently in their packs, safe and sound. From then on, it was just a hop, skip and a pony ride away to Erebor (theoretically) and they wouldn’t have to worry about the consequences! That was how Nori had put it...and how it had gone, two-thirds of the way.

Then Ori had been stopped. An Elf maiden who had kept her eye on him during his entire stay in the library had easily caught him red-handed, even when Fíli and Nori had the “troublemaker” look written all over them. It had been difficult to explain, and since the library was large enough to place at least two Ered Luin Archives in it, Nori and Fíli could not reach him in time, and he was smuggled out and given a stern talking-to. He had eventually apologized, and after a good amount of very thinly-veiled threats, Ori had been released, trembling badly.

And there was nothing else. The young dwarf had rushed after his companions and told them all that had happened, and they had agreed to keep what they had gotten, and never speak of it again. Thorin wouldn’t be complaining unless the little extra weight on their packs slowed them down, like the troll gold had with Nori. But Ori had looked through the books, and noticed an elven one Nori must have picked out by accident on a rush. While a part of him begged him to keep it, because the illustrations were beautiful, and another part simply dismissed it was Elven and unreadable.

So he had eventually been driven by his ideals to stumble back into the library, rather late at night, under menacing eyes of the Rivendell elves, the book firmly hidden beneath his cardigan for further stealth. And once he was out of sight of the elves that were still glaring at him, he pulled the book out. His fingers raced across the leather cover, and even opened it in wonder. The beautiful cliffs and sea landscapes pictured across the pages almost made him sigh. What part of him had made him dismiss the book? “Elven and unreadable”? Well, Elven he could ignore, but what of unreadable?

Unreadable was staying as it was. He sighed, and began scouting the library for the places Fíli and Nori had agreed to filch the rest of the books from, in hope that Ori could get away with returning the elven book and not give away the fact that Fíli and Nori had lifted the Dwarven ones. And here he was, running up the steps of the library to the second floor, and looking around for the spot he had last seen Nori laying fingers on books. And there it was. A faint white lantern was right by that section. So Ori was drawn to it and looked around furtively. “H-here I go,” he mumbled in Khûzdul, just in case. He no longer felt safe using Westron in this place.

But he had it coming after all.

That was, until he crossed the aisle to the spot by the lantern, and just as he placed the book right back where it was, a thunderous voice accompanied a shadow rising right by Ori. “I do not approve of this. Stop this at once before you destroy something!” was his command. The boy turned to the figure and nearly tripped over his feet, back on the floor. He was only saved when he clutched the bookshelf before him in fright. Oh, no! What now, what now, what now?! he thought wildly to himself. This elf did not look anything like the others: it was as if a spring storm could be personified as an Elf!

“I--I merely borrowed this book early in the morning, sir, I--I’m not destroying anything! I wouldn’t destroy anything in this library, why...why would I? Oh, please don’t tell anyone! My brothers would kill me if they found me rounding this place so late at night, but I had to put it back before it was too late into the night, I hope you understand, it was just that the drawings were beautiful, even if I couldn’t read it!” He had gasped out such a long sentence since that time when he was a boy and Dori had made mushroom soup and he’d gotten a horrible allergic reaction and he profusely apologized to both his brothers for the occasion. Only it had been rather unnecessary then. There was nothing here that indicated that a sincere apology wasn’t in order. .

« Last Edit: March 30, 2016, 02:28:11 PM by Mandos »

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« Reply #1 on: January 11, 2015, 10:38:00 PM »
I believe he is ready for approval!

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« Reply #2 on: January 12, 2015, 12:49:00 AM »
Another wonderful well-thought-out character! Love how much effort you've put into his history and I am so happy to see an Iron Hills dwarf :D Can't wait to stalk his threads!


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