[piosenniel]

Durelin’s Character:

Name: Hamfast Greenhand

Age: 59

Race: Hobbit (of Bree)

Gender: Male

Weapons: Only a short sword. Though it is a bit large for a hobbit, he is used to it. He has named it "Wolf Cleaver"

Appearance: Hamfast is a robust hobbit of normal hobbit height with cheery dark curls and both his head and feet. He has rosy, chubby cheeks, and creases on the sides of his mouth from his ever-ready smile and laughter. He usually wears his dark green trousers with yellow suspenders and an off-white shirt. Lately, he has been forced to adorn 'warrior garb', which consists of his shirt and trousers without suspenders and a large coat of black velvet. It was his old grandfather's, Posco Greenhand (now deceased), and a Hamfast has no idea where Posco got this coat, he is sure he does not wish to know, either.

Personality/Strengths/Weaknesses: In his later years (really ever since the attack of the wolves), Hamfast has become a very outgoing hobbit. He has always been loving and joyful, with a beautiful family, but the whole 'hero' idea had quite gone to his head. Now, with the return of the wolves, he is fairly shy again, avoiding people as best he can. He has many weaknesses, especially in his mind. He is quite quaint and is not a brave elf warrior. He is a good person, and dependable, though, and he will make it through much, if with much difficulty and complaints.

History: Hamfast was born in Newbury, but moved to Bree with the rest of his close family at an early age. The Greenhands have long owned a large hobbit hole almost at the center half way up Bree Hill. Only years earlier, wolves had attacked the town, led by great Wargs. Hamfast had been part of the expedition to eradicate this threat, making him one of the town heroes. Even his own son had killed a wolf, making his family a "breeding place for heroes!" Hamfast had enjoyed his publicity greatly, and even more so when the heroes began to dwindle, leaving fewer people to share fame with in Bree. The others had moved on, to greater things, he expected. Soon his fame became his biggest fester and curse when the wolves came again. The poor hobbit and the other remaining heroes are expected to protect and save the town, and they each have been voted to be one of the leaders of the defenses. He has been forced into his 'warrior garb', and he even must wear a sword at his belt, the one he used during the first attack. Hamfast has been put in charge of a small company, with others, including his friend Anuionin, which brightens the situation a bit. Many of them are men, who are three times larger than he, and stronger and smarter in the hobbit's mind. They are almost less happy about the whole situation than Hamfast is…almost…

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Durelin’s post

Striding down the dirt street at the head of a group of men, with a vast variety of pitch-forks, knives, hoes, axes, and a few swords, Hamfast's feet dragged, and he kept his eyes on the ground, frowning at his feet. He fingered his short sword in nervousness, always readjusting his coat. It just didn't feel right, prancing around in fancy clothes with a sword. And leading men. Men! He couldn't lead a herd of swine, much less a group of men. No, not a group, a company, they were a fighting force. Hamfast was ready to faint. "Cheer up, Master Hamfast," came a deep rumbling voice from beneath a rough brown beard on the dwarf beside him. His friend Anuionin was one of the few things that kept him going. But, at the head of all those few things stood his wife. Emmy Greenhand could be quite fierce and imposing. Hamfast thought she should be the one wearing a sword at her belt. "We have been through these attacks together once before, we will survive them once again."

"I know, Anuionin, I know," he mumbled, and the dwarf gave a long sigh. It sounded much like a growl coming from the dwarf.

"Hamfast, I cannot make you think of this differently, but I ask you to make the best of this you can."

"I will try." The two had had many exchanges like this already. It was becoming a routine everyday. After Anuionin gave up each day, the talk crept away from the topic. Today, there was only silence. It seemed that the dwarf was tired of this. Hamfast was himself, but he wouldn't ever admit that. "Well," he began, then stopped for another moment, switching what he was going to say. "I'm sorry, old friend. I have been a real stick in the mud the past days. I will make the best of it from here on out, as you have constantly told me. Forgive me for taking so long to come to my senses."
The dwarf gave a rumbling laugh. "I knew you were too smart of a hobbit to go on like this forever. I figured you'd understand eventually. Though I will admit to getting a bit tired of trying to convince you."

"I will admit to that too, Master Dwarf," Hamfast answered him, grinning as Anuionin roared with laughter. "Hamfast, my dear hobbit, you are truly a wise man!" The two friends laughed together, and Hamfast walked down the streets off Bree at the head of the company with his head high and a smile on his face.