The Barrow-Downs Discussion Forum - View Single Post - Swan Wood

Durelin · 03-01-2003, 08:44 PM

I'd like to be an Elf, and just to let you know, I'm new in Rohan, but I think I'll do fine...I think... [img]smilies/biggrin.gif[/img]

Name: Durcoion

Race: Elf of Lorien, lives in Mirkwood

Age: 103

Description: Durcoion is about 6 feet five inches, with long, pale blond hair and silvery gray eyes. His stance is always that of a warrior. His hand is always near the scabbard at his side, ready to draw at a moments notice. Taught and raised by his uncle, Durelin, Durcoion became an expert with any kind of blade. He was also taught the basics of archery, but nothing more, and found it quite boring. He wears tradition la Elvish clothing, almost always for travelling. His cloak is of a grayish blue, his tunic a light gray. On the pommel of his blade is the detailed, dark red carving of a striking falcon, a symbol earned by him from his uncle, who earned it before him.

Biography: Durcoion was born to Durwen, the sister of Durelin in Lorien. His father is unknown and has always been treated as a sort of naughty child who needs to be shown the right path. His life was made worse when it was discovered that his mother, Durwen, was a spy to the Dark Lord. He remembered Durelin having to accept the shame, and finally leaving Lorien to find his sister. Even more clearly, he remembered the day Durelin returned. He simply gave Durcoion a long, thin, carefully wrapped package, and inside was a bloody arrow. Durcoion was left to figure it out himself, and that he did. It was the first time he had wept, and it would be the last, he had promised himself that. The shame of shedding tears over a loathful women he barely knew, but hated simply because she was a servant of Sauron. But she was his mother. The shame he felt drove him to sware his vow, never to show a sign of weakness again. Durelin felt equal pain and shame, and left again, without a trace. Durcoion couldn't stand living in Lorien. It was such a beautiful place, but it was full of memories. And the beauty itself brought Durcoion to such rage. He couldn't believe that his own blood mother had thrown it away for the everlasting death of serving the Eye. Finally, Durcoion left, like his uncle, without a trace. He wandered for ten years, and was drawn to a grave, he knew he had been drawn to it. It was the grave of hi uncle, his only friend, loved one, and blood relative left on Middle Earth. He retreated to Mirkwood, and with his people swiftly leaving the shores, he knew he would be able to be alone. For some time he considered following them, away from the memories, he hoped at least. But he felt such a shame that he was a bastard to a minion of Sauron, he thought he wasn't worthy of taking the ship into the West. So he lingered, always thinking if he made the right choice, until, for all he knew, the ship had stopped coming.

Good? No? Oh well. [img]smilies/biggrin.gif[/img] I'll get a first post to you soon.

[ March 02, 2003: Message edited by: Durelin ]

03-01-2003, 08:44 PM	#20
Durelin Estelo dagnir, Melo ring Join Date: Oct 2002 Posts: 3,121	I'd like to be an Elf, and just to let you know, I'm new in Rohan, but I think I'll do fine...I think... [img]smilies/biggrin.gif[/img] Name: Durcoion Race: Elf of Lorien, lives in Mirkwood Age: 103 Description: Durcoion is about 6 feet five inches, with long, pale blond hair and silvery gray eyes. His stance is always that of a warrior. His hand is always near the scabbard at his side, ready to draw at a moments notice. Taught and raised by his uncle, Durelin, Durcoion became an expert with any kind of blade. He was also taught the basics of archery, but nothing more, and found it quite boring. He wears tradition la Elvish clothing, almost always for travelling. His cloak is of a grayish blue, his tunic a light gray. On the pommel of his blade is the detailed, dark red carving of a striking falcon, a symbol earned by him from his uncle, who earned it before him. Biography: Durcoion was born to Durwen, the sister of Durelin in Lorien. His father is unknown and has always been treated as a sort of naughty child who needs to be shown the right path. His life was made worse when it was discovered that his mother, Durwen, was a spy to the Dark Lord. He remembered Durelin having to accept the shame, and finally leaving Lorien to find his sister. Even more clearly, he remembered the day Durelin returned. He simply gave Durcoion a long, thin, carefully wrapped package, and inside was a bloody arrow. Durcoion was left to figure it out himself, and that he did. It was the first time he had wept, and it would be the last, he had promised himself that. The shame of shedding tears over a loathful women he barely knew, but hated simply because she was a servant of Sauron. But she was his mother. The shame he felt drove him to sware his vow, never to show a sign of weakness again. Durelin felt equal pain and shame, and left again, without a trace. Durcoion couldn't stand living in Lorien. It was such a beautiful place, but it was full of memories. And the beauty itself brought Durcoion to such rage. He couldn't believe that his own blood mother had thrown it away for the everlasting death of serving the Eye. Finally, Durcoion left, like his uncle, without a trace. He wandered for ten years, and was drawn to a grave, he knew he had been drawn to it. It was the grave of hi uncle, his only friend, loved one, and blood relative left on Middle Earth. He retreated to Mirkwood, and with his people swiftly leaving the shores, he knew he would be able to be alone. For some time he considered following them, away from the memories, he hoped at least. But he felt such a shame that he was a bastard to a minion of Sauron, he thought he wasn't worthy of taking the ship into the West. So he lingered, always thinking if he made the right choice, until, for all he knew, the ship had stopped coming. Good? No? Oh well. [img]smilies/biggrin.gif[/img] I'll get a first post to you soon. [ March 02, 2003: Message edited by: Durelin ]