[Fallinel]

1. I have not yet participated in any RPGs at the Barrow-Downs.
2. See above.
3. Yes, as a Haradrim character, Njeri.

Profile for Fallinel's character:

NAME: Rhysdan Whitfield

AGE: 37 y/o

RACE: Mortal Man

GENDER: Male

WEAPONS: Small home-made bow and arrows; shepherd's staff (or crook)

APPEARANCE: Rhysdan is tall and slender; he is built for endurance rather than great physical strength. His hair is straight, shoulder-length, and dark brown, streaked with blond highlights from time spent in the sun. Rhysdan has a short beard and moustache, and his eyes are light brown.

PERSONALITY: Rhysdan is a gentle man, with an introspective nature and a wry sense of humor. He adores his wife and children, but feels particularly close to his dreamy daughter Daisy. His son, Elian, is more adventurous and outgoing, and resents the chores and responsibility associated with keeping livestock. Although the Whitfield family maintains a small kitchen garden and fields for grain and hay, Rhysdan's talents and interests lie with raising and tending sheep and dairy cattle. As a natural herdsman, Rhysdan appreciates the opportunity to reflect on matters, and the freedom to wander throughout the countryside. He is accompanied by his loyal sheepdog, Hawkweed.

HISTORY: The Whitfields had once been herdsmen, and in past times endured much more itinerant and difficult circumstances. Only in the last generation or two has any Whitfield man been able to own land and lead a more settled and civilized existence. Rhysdan's younger sister, Willow, is a genteel woman with great domestic skills and interests, whereas Rhys has reverted to a lifestyle that more closely resembles that of his restless ancestors. He is proud of his carefully- tended flock of sheep, prized for their thick, soft wool and for the cheeses that can be made from their milk. Rhysdan's small herd of sleek cattle produce rich milk that can be churned into butter, and sold for a good price in the markets of Dale.

Fallinel's post:

The sun was warm on Rhysdan's shoulders as he clambered among the large rocks, in search of the lost black-and-white ewe and her lamb. He used his staff expertly for balance and leverage, as he leapt from one boulder to the next; he knew from experience that the heavy, clumsy sheep could easily become wedged between rocks, and lacked the sense required to extricate themselves. Rhysdan scanned all the narrow, grassy spaces between the tumbled boulders, yet there was no sign of the ewe and her lamb. It was as if they had disappeared into thin air. He had wanted to bring his son Elian along to help him search for the sheep, but the adventurous boy was off wandering the hills with his cousin. "Probably looking for Dwarves, or treasure, or some such imaginative nonsense, " thought Rhysdan, and smiled.

The ewe and lamb were not the first of Rhysdan's livestock to disappear; no-the old brown ram, and a young cream-colored heifer had also gone missing, without a trace left behind. No tell-tale sightings of circling carrion-birds for a sick or injured animal, either. The last time he had traveled into the Dale market, to sell cream, butter, and sheep's milk cheeses, he had heard disturbing tales of losses on other farms and homesteads, livestock spirited away mysteriously.

Rhysdan had hiked close to one of the towering southern arms of the Lonely Mountain in his search for the lost ewe and her lamb, enjoying the exertion as he moved steadily uphill, in spite of the nagging worries over his livestock. His red-speckled, blue-eyed sheepdog, Hawkweed, accompanied him, trotting to and fro amongst the boulders and patches of high grass, sniffing incessantly for the elusive sheep-scent. Something passed between the sun and the stone-littered field where Rhysdan stood, casting a long dark shadow on the grass, and Hawkweed immediately began barking frantically. That was so unlike the dog, who was usually devoted to his tasks; Rhysdan looked up, and in the bright sky saw something that left him feeling un-nerved, yet fascinated.

No, it can't be-those are only wild tales, meant to frighten children, thought Rhysdan. But there it was, golden-red scales glistening in the sun, long tail lashing from side to side as a rudder, immense leathery wings beating the air powerfully. Rhysdan could see fibers, or perhaps fur and skin trailing from one of the dragon's huge front claws. Hawkweed continued to bark madly, racing around the stones, and jumping on and off the tops of the smaller ones nervously. Rhysdan thought to silence the dog with a command, but then realized that the dragon was paying them little or no heed. Its attention appeared to be focused on the mountain itself, particularly on the southern side. It is looking for a den, just like a fox or wolf , thought the shepherd, who had little knowledge of dragons, but knew much about the wild animals of the area.

Then Rhysdan remembered that Elian and Elanor had decided to go adventuring near the mountain, and surely that golden monster had the vision of a hawk or eagle. Rhysdan called Hawkweed to his side, and began to run back towards his homestead...