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I don’t know much about my family... I was orphaned as a small boy in a battle along the Westfold. My mother was slain by a man that I do not know, and never will because he slipped away into the Eastern parts of Middle earth where we do not tread. My Father was engaged in that Battle but was not a soilder. A simple farmer armed with only his working axe, he was killed defending our home. I was adopted by the swordsman, Jon-Han. A rogue from the East. He was a traveller in our parts, finding his place in life. He saved me and took me to a small village hidden in the moutains of the North above the forest Mirkwood. I was trained in the sword, different from the traditional Rohirric blade. Single edged, curved, for slicing. But my main weapon of chioce is the empty hand. I do not like weapons... but to disarm the opponent with grace of body is my favorite technique. For my village I was a spy. I was one of five men sworn to protect my village at all costs. I lead many men to their deaths in combat for which I am ever so sorrowful, but the village was never touched. Indeed the end of the village came, and so the death of all those who died was in vain trial. The village could no longer produce the gold and silver it mined to by the supplies needed to sustain itself and we dispersed throughout middle earth. My father, or so the one whom adopted me took me back to the plains in which he found me. We camped for only a couple of days before he took ill and passed in the spot he found me. How ironic. The place he saved me, is the place he came to rest his life. It was then that I came to your kingdom, asking for acceptance. I was given shelter by your King, Eomer, and I joined the ranks of you all. I stand before you, Sperewigend of the Mark, HEAFOCMUND! |