[piosenniel]

Bethberry’s Character:

NAME: Calumdril

AGE: 40ish

RACE: Man, of the Dúnedain of the South, that is, of the people of Ithilien (the descendants of the Men of the Westernesse) who had been dispersed by the enemy when Gondor lost control of Ithilien.

WEAPONS: His knowledge of wood lore, wilderness survival, and tracking; two knives, one on his belt behind his back and the other hidden in his boot; handy with the bow, less so with spear or sword; trained in stealth and reconnaissance rather than fighting; also carries a horn.

APPEARANCE: an agile and slender figure, with a slight but wiry build; of average or perhaps even short height, yet with a presence which can gain attention when he speaks up, which is not often; his skin is fair, but weathered; his hands chaffed and cracked; his fingers have known frostbite. His dark hair is salted with grey at the temples, his face sombre, sedate, serious; his grey eyes, lined with wrinkles, survey crowds, people's faces, terrain, surroundings not obviously, but with a wary regard, as if hiding or masking himself. Both his hearing and his sense of smell remain acute.

PERSONALITY/ STRENGTHS/ WEAKNESSES:

Calumdril is a calm, quietly sociable man who rarely loses his temper. He appears to act from patience and deliberation rather than from passion and can be seen as standoffish. Behind this reticence is a great sadness with the weaknesses of the race of Men.

Endeavouring to be polite and civil and without great worldly ambition, he rarely seeks a prominent position and can become uncomfortable if such is thrust upon him. He is more a leaders' trusted advisor than a leader himself and is more comfortable with small groups of people than large. Thus, individual families of the settlers will come to know him well and like him, but in terms of large group dynamics, he is often not particularly well-liked. He has a great depth to his inner life and private contemplations.

HISTORY: While technically a Soldier of Gondor, Calumdril has spent most of his adult life stationed with the garrison at Henneth Annun and is more a scout than a soldier. He did not fight in the Battle of Pelennor
Fields but was instead involved in reconnaissance behind the battle.

With the war at an end, he has been decommissioned but there are few jobs available for a man of his age and his skills. Joining the caravan is a logical step but it is an extraordinary move for him to leave
Ithilien. It is a step that may have saved him from becoming the kind of forest recluse who comes to be feared by conventional members of the populace.

Calumdril was an Ithilien forest boy whose family history is unremarkable. No family tragedies marred his psychological development.

He was the third child in a family of five children who naturally gravitated towards the forest solitude. Always shy around girls, he never married, although he can forge friendships with women who are older than him or with his friends' wives. His grandfather taught him how to run a trap line and hunt, but his first experience of trapping a live animal, alone in the forest one winter, convinced him never to trap animals again. He would hunt for his food, but not trap for furs.

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

Bethberry’s post


Crouching disinterestedly by the lakeshore, Calumdril had watched the first settlers reach the crest of the hill and then suddenly halt in amazement at the sight of Lake Evendim. It had shimmered in the setting sun like ripe, red fruit rippling on the laden branches of serviceberry shrubs in a gentle breeze. It was almost unbelievable to many of them that the long trek was over and they forgot exhaustion in the awe of arrival. He had watched them mass slowly at the top of the hill and then with sudden quick movement descend to the shoreline and begin animated talk. So unlike him, who had not even yet relaxed into simple pleasure and delight that the long trek had ended.

Calumdril had ridden ahead of the caravan and scouted the lake's shoreline to find the best favoured site for the first night's camp. He had found a small level plain, not too rocky, and had left a small stake with a green flag flying to signal where the caravan should camp for the night. Rocks had played havoc with many of the horses' ankles, and the settlers had lost valuable animals on the long trek. The shoreline was strew with boulders for many miles and the lake bed itself salted with boulders, stones, large rocks, many showing lines of scratches and etches. Calumdril guessed glaciers might have dug out the lake. The rocky shoreline made Calumdril happy, for it lessened the chance of any attack from across the water.

He had then tracked the nearby bush for telltale signs of the Hillmen. There were, eerily, many signs and he could tell that he himself had been observed as he searched for signs of them. Five, perhaps six, of the Hillmen had hidden in the bushes, then brushed out their tracks. Yet he could find broken twigs where bodies had rushed too closely by trees, dust settled on leaves where none should have reached, the small undergrowth of the forest showing crushed fungi and flowers where bare feet had trod. This was no virgin land Aragorn had sent the settlers to, but territory over which strange tribes held dominion.

Calumdril stood up and walked towards the encampment site. Borgand, his face animated, even ebullient, was busily overseeing the setup, receiving the congratulations of the many settlers who had for some time begun to dispair of ever arriving. Calumdril quietly circulated, speaking a few words to some of the men who would be watching with him that night, and arranging for others who would escort him out the next day to survey the official site for the log walls and cabins of the new city. Finally he sought out Borgand's tent.

"How fares Bregand?" he inquired of the young boy whose face had so often appeared feverish.

"He fares well. For the first time he ate a full meal before returning to his bed. And now it is time for your meal, Calumdil. You won't get to speak with Borgand until you put some nourishment into that wiry flesh of yours," Illith chastized him gently. Calumdil smiled. Illith reminded him of his second oldest sister and he was quite happy to play younger brother with her.

"I'll eat only if your food is tasty tonight," he joked in return.

"Tut! It will stick to the walls of your ribs. That's all you need worry about for tonight," she retorted, gently shoving him into a chair by the makeshift table. He ate with an unruffled manner, asking Illith about the final day's journey, Borgand's and her thoughts for the settlement, the boy's health. He brushed aside any of her concerned questions about the site and then rose quickly, excusing himself to find Borgand and deliver his news about the presence of the Hillmen.