[piosenniel]

The X Phial’s Character:

NAME: Borgand

AGE: 43

RACE: Man of Gondor

GENDER: Male

WEAPONS: Borgand carries his Gondorian army sword and two daggers: one at his waist and one in his boot. He is proficient with bow and spear as well, but does not generally carry them on his person.

APPEARANCE:
Borgand is a tall man with dark hair and blue eyes. He has the lean and muscular build of a soldier in his prime, and neither his hair nor his beard are yet touched with grey. He wears his hair to his shoulders in the style of soldiers from Minas Tirith. Unlike active soldiers, however, Borgand is missing his left leg from the knee down. In its place is a carved wooden post. For this reason he walks with a limp and has been known to use a cane to help support himself when tired. He retains his ability to walk and run over short distances, but requires a horse for long journeys

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES:
Borgand is a proud man and an excellent soldier. He is deadly in hand to hand combat, whether armed or not, but his balance and speed have been compromised by the loss of his leg. Always a strong-willed man, Borgand is a natural leader and was a captain before his injury left him without a commission in the army. He is a loving, if sometimes gruff, husband and father. His mood was very bad right after his injury, but the trek north has given him a renewed sense of purpose.

Borgand’s greatest weakness is his temper, which has gotten much shorter since his dismissal from the army. He is patient with those he considers weaker than himself, but has a tendency to lose his tact when dealing with an equal who behaves foolishly or betrays a trust. He also knows very little about much besides soldiering, though he has made an attempt to understand the basics of building on the journey northwards. Borgand has no problems delegating to someone with a better expertise when need be, but it does gall him slightly when he cannot accomplish something on his own.

HISTORY:
Borgand was the son of a Gondorian army captain, and all he ever wanted to be was a soldier. He spent his first few years with his mother in an outlying town of Gondor, but they both moved to Minas Tirith to be with his father when he was made a captain. As a captain’s son, he was the leader of the other boys in his neighborhood and grew up with a will to lead and defend the things he loved.

Borgand served in the army, and was promoted through the ranks quickly, until the Battle of the Pelennor Fields. In the thick of battle his regiment was cut off from the gate and set upon by orcs from all sides. Borgand cut a path for his men to the gate, losing only 4 out of nearly 100. At the gate he stood his ground in order to give his men a few more minutes to get to safety, and it was then that a blow from an unseen enemy severed his leg. He lost consciousness and was dragged from the field, only to awaken the next day wishing he was dead.

A long period of recovery followed, and then harrowing months spent relearning to walk and run on a wooden peg. The recovery was slowed by Borgand’s feeling that he had lost his purpose, and only the quiet insistence of his wife and the sad eyes of his young son kept him working toward his goal of mobility.

Three years after the marriage and ascension of the king, and after a year of idleness after Borgand’s full recovery, word went out that Elessar was looking for volunteers to resettle the former kingdom of Arnor. The king would supply the company well, it was said, but the accomplishment was to be its own reward. Borgand, who at one time had felt he could never leave Minas Tirith, felt a yearning to be useful again. He reasoned that even a one-legged man might have a purpose in a wild land. After many discussions with his wife, they decided to chance the journey. To his surprise, when he went to volunteer, he found that his former commander had already recommended him to be the leader of the settlers.

A year later he rode out of Minas Tirith at the head of a caravan some 500 people strong. The group included people from all backgrounds and professions, and Borgand had set the former soldiers to ride the flanks. Also accompanying the settlers was a Ranger out of Ilithien, an expert in wilderness survival. The two had a professional relationship, if sometimes a rather uneasy one. The tale of the journey would be a book unto itself, but the band encountered many hardships, lost a number of members, and also took on volunteers from Rohan and other inhabited lands along the way before they finally reached their destination nearly nine months later. Borgand is weary, but he has the hope and fears of the settlers on his shoulders. He is determined that the first town in the renewed Kingdom of Arnor will be a success.

*+*+*+*+*+*+

The X Phial’s post

The westering sun was in Borgand’s eyes as he crested the last hill to his destination. Below him the surface of Lake Evendim shone red and the hills beyond seemed tipped with gold. It was a beautiful sight, made all the more lovely by the fact that this was to be his new home. He signaled to those behind him to come forward into the light and heard each new arrival’s breath catch in wonder. The settlers had made it at last, they were in Arnor.

Borgand urged his horse down through the meadow toward the edge of the lake. As he went he looked at the land. It seemed lush after the long journey. He had not seen a field so green since the band left Rohan so many months before. A winter and many miles had passed since that time, and Borgand welcomed the seeming abundance. His horse reached the water and stopped to drink. Borgand turned then to see the weary travelers descending the hill into the meadow, faces open and smiling. Even those who had taken ill in the long winter months, his own son included, were lighter in step and countenance as they streamed into the meadow.

As the final rays of the sun set behind the hills, the travelers were busy setting up a camp as they had every night for the past nine months. This night, however, Borgand heard no grumbling, only laughter. They set their camp in a circle out of long habit; circular camps were the easiest to defend. Borgand walked through the camp, soon to be the new city, and smiled at those he saw. His body was exhausted, despite the elation of his spirit, and he was leaning heavily on his cane, dragging his wooden leg a bit. Here and there he stopped to talk to someone and share the wonder they all felt at finally being at Evendim. This was the place they had decided on long before in Gondor as the most likely for the first settlement of the restored kingdom of Arnor. The king, who knew the lands well, had given his approval.


The ex-soldier reached his wife’s accustomed spot and saw that the teenaged sons of a fellow ex-soldier had already erected his family’s tent. He nodded his thanks and they ran off, suddenly full of energy despite their tiredness. Illith was starting a fire, getting ready to begin making the evening meal and Bregand, Borgand’s son had fallen asleep in his blankets. The boy was 6 and had suffered from a terrible illness on the journey. Only the constant care of Illith had brought him through the winter. Even so, he was pale and small. Borgand hoped that the wholesome air of Arnor would restore the boy quickly.

Borgand stopped his wife’s activity for a moment and pulled her into an embrace.

“We are finally here, Illith. Evendim! I thought I would never see the day.”

“Yes, love,” she answered, holding him closely. “We are here, home. But I never doubted you would get us here.”

They ate together and Bregand woke to play with his father and eat his supper. Borgand had responsibilities, however, and couldn’t afford to spend the long hours with his family he once again craved. While recovering from his injuries he had been so sick of his family that he wasn’t sure he would make it one more day. After their long journey, however, he wanted nothing more than to spend a quiet evening with Illith and Bregand.

He made the rounds again and set a watch. The feeling of joy at arrival had sent most of the settlers into a state of carelessness that Borgand knew was premature. From across the water the sound of wolves howling suddenly sent the camp into silence. An answering howl followed, and then another. The night seemed altogether darker, and families decided it was a good idea to send their children to bed. Borgand sighed and signaled the watch. He decided he would turn in as well. The camp was secure and fire should keep the wolves away. Before retiring he found the Ilithien and they agreed that he would scout the area to find the best location in the morning. Tomorrow the settlers would start felling trees for the building of a temporary wall. Borgand wondered how long it would be until the carts of rock and supplies from the Blue Mountains would arrive, as promised by the contract with the dwarves. The builders themselves they had already met coming in from the Western Road. Until a stone wall could be built, however, a wooden one would have to suffice. The journey was over, but the dangers were just beginning.

[ July 23, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]