Race: Dunedain
Height: 5' 11
Age: 59
Family: Only cousins, other dunedain
Animals: none
Weapons: Sword, Javalin and knife
Personality: Dindraug, known as Wolf (a partial translation of his name), enjoys the wild almost, if not more, then he enjoys sitting in Bree with a pint of ale and pipe weed from the south farthing. In town, he capitalizes on the mysterious air the Rangers have created around themselves, and stay aloof and in the shadows. He is particularly fond of sitting in a dark corner of the Prancing Pony and picking someone to watch the entire time, seeing if they notice. In the wild, where Wolf is more comfortable, he shows himself to be a quite capable hunter and outdoors man, as well as an accomplished tracker. He also adopts a much more open and enthusiastic attitude. One that appears almost 'happy-go-lucky' to those who would travel with him. When a hunt begins, or danger threatens, a more serious side prevails. He understands the value, and often necessity of teamwork in order to accomplish a task, or even just to survive. Oh, and he can't shoot a bow to save his life.
Appearance: Dindraug does not trust himself to be as agile as many of the other Dunedain, Aragorn included, and as such always wears a chain mail shirt. Under the shirt is green cloth padding, and over it, a leather jerkin. He keeps his legs unarmored, save for a few layers of green and brown cloth, in order to maintain the high mobility a ranger's life requires. After a number of unfortunate accidents in his early years learning swordplay, he gained a number of scars on his wrists, ones that he always covers with bracers. His boots are of a hard leather, and well worn through many trips. His face is usually unshaven, though he has never grown a true beard, and his often dirty, dark hair falls to his shoulders. He wears a cloak of brown patched green for warmth and utility. His only jewelry is a carved steel broche and a ring on his right hand. The sword at his side he finds to be among the most useful of accessories, he keeps it sharp at all times, though the most the average person sees of it is the Steel and leather grip. Two knives he also keeps on him, one sheath which also contains a whetting stone. Hunting Javalins provide a longer ranged method to hunt. Side notes: In high powered games, the chain mail will be elfish mithril. In addition, the sword will be Falmahaire, one of western descent, forged on the isle of Numenor. In games that take place after the destruction of the One Ring, the ring he has will be one of the rings of men, picked up in the fields of Mordor after the destruction of the Nazguil. A token to remember power corrupts those who wield it.
History:
Born Dindraug, called Wolf, this dunedain spent all his early years in the wild. He has a small sword in his hand when he learned to walk, and tracked orcs when he could but crawl, or so it its said. The earliest that is truly known it at 15 he first appeared in Rivindell with his parents, who were both also rangers. They spent but a fleeting two years there, before wolf was sent out with an uncle to learn the skills that would keep him alive in the wild parts of middle-earth. At the age of 24, still a very young lad in the years of the Dunedain, he returned to Rivindell to learn his parents had gone missing, presumed to be dead. In sorrow and woe he left Rivindell and traveled east, crossing the Misty Mountains, arriving deep into Mirkwood. It was here he met up with a group of elves, from which he refined his combat skills and learned arts and history. He also went west, and spent time with the dwarves of the blue mountans. Since then he as wondered the lands, he has been in the far east and south, as well as the distant north. During the War of the Ring, he was p north. He missed riding south with the other dunedain by two days, and so arive in time only for the coronation of Aragorn. Afterwords, the One Ring having been destroyed, he traveled in to the land of the enemy to learn what lava and dust can tell. He still searches for answers to his parents deaths. He has yet to find there bodies, or any spoils stolen from them. Though he has run in to an elf his heart would go out to, his fealings are tempered from his last time when he found himself taken by the beauty of an elfish lady. He proclaimed his love, which she thought was quite cute. He followed her were he could, and returned to Bree with only this verse: I loved an elf. I loved her till her ship was out of sight of the tallest tower of the Gray Havens. Perhaps, one day, I will find one who loves me.
