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Old 08-16-2003, 10:03 PM   #10
Child of the 7th Age
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Piosenniel's Character - Berilac Woodfarer


Name: Berilac Woodfarer (Beril the Bowman)

Age: 42

Race: Hobbit, Fallohide

Gender: Male

Weapons:

An expert bowman, he bears a Yew longbow, 57” (1.4 M) made to size for him; deer leather belt quiver with knife sheath; cedar shaft arrows with iron tips; a short sword, twin to his brother’s. Small leather tube bearing a great number of his maps. Rides a small, grey colored horse named Slate.

Appearance:

4’ 6” (54”; 1.37 M); 100 lbs (45 kg); hazel eyes; thick, wavy, dark blond hair, shoulder length, worn pulled back and bound at the nape of his neck with a leather thong. Fair skinned beneath his tanned features; his face bears a rugged, weathered look. Lean, sinewy, muscular build. Normal attire is black mid-calf breeches secured with a dark leather belt bearing a brass buckle; dark grey, long sleeved tunic; a long, hooded, grey green cloak. On the index finger of his right hand he wears a slim, gold band.

Personality/Strengths/Weaknesses:

A reserved man in the company of strangers; allows others to take the lead in conversation or social interaction in such company as it provides him the opportunity to observe them closely. Has a keen mind and sharp senses. Good judge of character; loyal to his friends and family, around whom he shows quite a different side to his character – wicked sense of humor, outrageous flirt when it comes to charming the ladies (learned at an early age how profitable this could be in managing his younger sisters), fond of reciting poetry (especially his own doggerel), is adept at ferreting out juicy pieces of gossip.

Above all, he is a very devoted husband and father. His family is his source of strength and also his greatest weakness. Given a situation in which he must choose between the needs of his family and his own needs he would choose their well-being over his own.

He is less inclined to be harsh about the animosity between the Big Folk and the Little People as are other Hobbits. As a Ranger, he works closely with Men, and finds them to have an equal measure of good and bad traits as do his fellow Hobbits.

History:

Born in TA 1263, the second child and second son of Bardo and Mimosa Woodfarer in a small settlement on the banks of the Hoarwell. His younger twin sisters were three years younger than he, and he doted on them, fancying himself to be their protector. They in turn adored their older brother and would do anything for him – an unfortunate choice for them at times, especially when his ideas of what might be fun conflicted with his mother’s ideas of what was right. His brother, Rosco, was much older than this trio and though his interests were often more mature, at least in his eyes, than the childish antics of his brother and sisters, he often would step in to negotiate between his parents and the Triple Terror as they were known in the family.

He was a young man still, just turned thirty-seven, when the encroaching shadowed times forced his family and the others of their settlement to leave their homes and seek the safety of the larger Mannish community of Bree-land. The death of his father at the hands of the Orcs kindled a desire in him to see that the darkness would not prevail and that his people and all those who dwelt in the lands between the Misty Mountains and the Blue could do so in peace.

Once his mother and siblings were seen safely to Bree-land, Berilac turned eastward on his small horse, Slate, seeking the holding of the Rangers who had traveled often through the area where his family had lived. Rangers who often stopped to confer with his father, bringing news of the areas outside the Hobbit settlement, and in the last years grimmer news of the nearing darkness. He had been taken in by them, several of the Hobbit Rangers giving witness to his character and his woodsman’s skills. The fact that he was considered an accomplished archer with his short Hobbit bow was also a mark in his favor.

Now, he lived in their hidden fastness in The Angle – Rangers, both Men and Hobbits, and their families, in a small settlement in the area between the Hoarwell and the Loudwater, where it joined the Hoarwell’s courses. Under the tutelage of Merimas Thistle he honed his Ranger skills, and was given the gift of a longbow made especially for him by the Rangers' Master Bowman.

And under the motherly eye of Merimas’ wife, Larkspur, he was taken into the family. This bond was made permanent when, at age 39, he married the oldest daughter of the family, Fairlight, two years younger than he. The following year saw the birth of their daughter, Alyssum. And now at age 42, another child is on the way, and soon to be born.

Though he looks forward to seeing his family in Bree-land ance again, it is with great reluctance that he leaves his wife and undertakes the task of journeying to Bree-land to speak with the folk there concerning the troubles coming their way.

_____________________________________________

Piosenniel's post for Berilac

It was a pleasant enough day for tramping down the road, he thought to himself. The mid-day sun was warm against the promised chill of early autumn, and a few late flowers poked their fading heads through the dried grasses along the roadway. It had been nearly a year since last he’d seen his brother and sisters. His mouth curved up in a soft smile at the thought of Britnie and Goldy, both married now with little ones of their own. They lived very near one another (as children they had been inseparable), and every so often he would receive a joint letter from both of them letting him know the little details of their lives and of course always hinting that perhaps, if he could see fit to be decent about it, he would bring his wife and daughter to visit the better half of the family. He could see them now, Britnie with her hands on her hips and Goldie wagging her finger at him, when he told them the latest news – they were about to become aunts once more.

He paused, just before he reached the Southgate and brushed the road dust from his breeches and shirt. He pulled back his hair, undone a little in the breeze, and smoothed it into the confines of the leather cord he used to bind it once more. His hands and face he had already washed in a nearby pool – filled to brimming now with water after the recent shower. He had smiled at his reflection in the still water before cupping it in his hands – how lucky to not be bothered with facial hair like his Mannish counterparts. Days of tramping and living rough would have brought them to Bree looking more scurvy than the ruffians they came to warn about.

As it was, the Gatekeeper admitted him but barely, muttering something about odd looking Hobbits. He cast a suspicious eye on his long bow and knife and debated for a moment whether he needed to alert the Bree watch about this overly armed hole dweller. In the end he decided it was too much trouble and waved him in, returning to his perusal of the bottom of the pint one of his friends had so kindly brought him from the Inn.

Berilac walked slowly across the causeway over the dike and through the gate taking in the details of the town’s defenses. He paused once he was well past the hedge and looked back. His eyes narrowed at what he saw, and he ticked off mentally those things that needed to be fixed or strengthened. The earthen-work dike had caved in and filled up in places; the hedge had not been well taken care of and stood thin at various points he could see from where he stood. The gate itself looked as if it had no cross bar to keep out would be intruders. And the flimsy latch on it would not hold back the efforts of a small child he thought to himself. He sighed, taking in the last problem, but not the least – the Gatekeeper . . . drinking on duty.

He turned away from the gate, and trudged up one of the main paths, stopping to ask several Hobbits along the way for directions to Mausi’s house. With any luck he could bunk down at her place, then visit his brother on the morrow. He laughed to himself thinking of Ella and Mondy and little Kali. Perhaps they could be persuaded to walk about the perimeter of the town with him. If anyone knew where the places for easy ins and outs were along the hedge and dike it would be the children.

Reaching his friend’s doorway he noted a largish cart parked just outside, and wondered if one of the Big Folk had brought some business for Mausi and her nimble fingers. No one answered at his light knock, and he turned the handle of the door to let himself in, as she had so often told him to do in the past. He heard voices and paused not wanting to intrude. From his vantage point he saw a tall woman smile at Mausi and extend her hand in farewell. Her words came clearly to him.

‘Your children are safe, and I see that you have a visitor,’ the woman said in parting. ‘I’m afraid I truly must be going. My own son is at the Inn with Cook looking out after him. He’s quite a handful for her, and I need to get home.’ The woman hurried out of the room and down the hall to the door, nodding at Berilac as she passed.

Berilac’s grin widened as he entered the room where Mausi stood, and he gave an astonished gasp when he saw his brother standing off to the side. They embraced, clapping each other heartily on the back. Mausi standing to one side looked on, delighted to see Berilac and to see his brother enjoying the surprise. Berilac broke from his brother’s embrace and swept Mausi into a bear hug, causing her to squeal as he lifted her from the floor, then deposited her into his brother’s astonished arms.

_____________________________________________


She invited them to stay for supper and sent them down to her small side cellar to pick out vegetables for a thick soup. They were drafted into helping her prepare it while she made a pan of biscuits to go with it. It was during the chopping of the carrots and taters that Mausi inquired, in a soft voice, hoping against hope, about her parents and siblings. Had Berilac had a chance to see if there were any news on their whereabouts, she wondered. Rosco, too, looked up expectantly.

‘Aye, I do have news, and better than I ever thought to find.’ He could hear her short intake of breath at this auspicious beginning. ‘Your family is well and they all send their regards to you and the children. They dwell now in the Angle, as the country that lies between Hoarwell and Loudwater is called. There’s a great hobbit settlement there, with many Stoors, established by our southern cousins that have long been separated from us.’

‘The Angle?’ asked Rosco, his brows rising. ‘Yes,’ replied Berilac, ‘not far in distance from where I live, though our way is hidden to them.’

The soup was bubbling merrily and the smell of the browning biscuits made Berilac’s mouth water after days of cold meals eaten quickly on the along the trail. Mausi was busy getting the children ready for dinner – hands and faces washed. And giving them little tasks to set the table for the meal. Rosco, sitting in a chair in the front room, Berilac near him, took the opportunity of this busy diversion to ask his brother the real reason for this visit. Berilac filled him in on the news about the bandits saying that he and one of the Big Folk Rangers would be calling a meeting for all the folk in Bree-land about meeting this threat.

Rosco listened closely and shook his head at what his brother had said and what he expected. ‘I know,’ said Berilac, reading the expression on his brother’s face. ‘It’s going to take some doing . . . and unfortunately not just in fixing the dike and hedge . . .’

[ September 12, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]
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