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Tinnorandir
Tinnorandir Mallothion
| Name | Tinnorandir |
|---|---|
| Status | Active |
| Occupation | Wandering scholar of languages and cultures |
| Age | Relatively young |
| Race | Elf |
|---|---|
| Residence | Itinerant; usually in Eriador |
| Kinship |
| Outward Appearance | Standing at over six and a half feet tall (~2m) with an ageless visage, a single look at Tinnorandir suggests that the elf is one of the Noldor. His features are angular, chiseled like the statues of old: high cheekbones, leaf-shaped gray eyes and a sharp jaw. While his face is bronzed by the sun, his hair is dark as a raven's wing. Usually windswept, the loose strands are almost always tangled with long braids bound with strips of leather and adorned with beads and rings of silver and bone, an odd fashion for an elf. His typical attire consists of rugged robes and furs that protect him from the elements while doing little to conceal his hale, broad-shouldered frame. Several talismans of bone, horn, and sinew - gifts from the various peoples among whom he has lived over the course of centuries - hang around his neck on leather cords.
When he speaks, his voice is a gentle, honey-smooth baritone inflected with an Elvish lilt. He seems quite fluent in many of the tongues of Eriador, both living and dead. |
|---|
Background
Unusually for one of the Noldor, Tinnorandir was born in the Third Age, the son a friend of Hravanis who perished in battle when he was young. Her husband felt he could not raise a child without his wife and asked Hravanis to raise his son before leaving for Valinor. As a child, he grew up near the court of Rhudaur and became versed in the ways of Men, traveling to Arthedain as a young adult. Yet some unspoken schism separated mother and son, leading Tinnorandir on a wayward path far from other Elves.
Among Men, Tinnorandir is known by many names - Tinnorandir and Lammaen among the Dúnedain, Vaeltaja to the Lossoth of Forochel, Calltuin to the Hill-Men of Eriador and Collen to the Men of the Enedwaith and Dunland. He is a wanderer, old as a ghost, tall and strong like a hazel tree, and eerily fluent in the tongues of Men in their many forms, walking where the gray-robed parties of Elves heading west do not dare to tarry. When he lingers in a village, he makes himself useful for a time, tending to hunters' wounds and gathering herbs and roots as he tells stories of old in exchange for the stories of living Men. He is ever diplomatic and happy to settle disputes when asked, dressing in the garb of his hosts when they permit it so to shorten the distance between them. Tinnorandir is a familiar sight to Rangers, traveling by many of the same paths through the wild, and happy to regale any parties of Dúnedain with the stories he has gathered over two thousand years of life.
Among Elves, Tinnorandir is just short of a pariah. While he speaks Quenya and Sindarin fluently thanks to his mother and sister, many feel that he has assimilated too far into the ways of Men. Deep in the halls of Imladris and in the havens of Celondim, he has been scorned as a travesty and a shame on the proud blood that flows through his veins. For his part, he is happy to share his stories with young Elves. He finds himself occasionally returning to the wisest among the Elves so he might immortalize their knowledge through his curious habit of writing things down, odd given his people's emphasis on the memory of the Eldar.
| Friends | |
|---|---|
| Relatives | |
| Rivals/Enemies | None thus far! |
| Loves | Traveling, the peoples of Eriador, learning new things, riddles and wordplay, the stars, writing, his sister |
|---|---|
| Hates | Violence, arrogant or condescending people, feeling out of place among other Elves |
| Motivation | To learn all he can of the Men of Eriador and steward the world until his time comes |
| Quotes |
