Davthelion, the name alone strikes fear into the hearts of southrons and fell creatures alike; A mighty champion of men.

Of Numenorian blood, and in ancestry akin to Arvedui, his forefather perished in the great storm that claimed both the last king and the palantiri of Annúminas and Amon Sûl.  His descendants tied to the failing fate of the Dúnedain chieftans, they accomplished much in the battle for the North.

Davthelion was trianed in bowcraft from an early age, as is the way of the Rangers, and although an acclomplished archer, he found great pleasure in the wielding of weapons.  He became fascinated by them, and moreover he desired to learn of their creation.  Many a long day was spent working ore into steel, steel into blades and blades into weapons.  By the young age of 12 he was already proficient in the wielding of his own craft.

His first experience of death came later that year.  Returning from the forges late one night, he found his homestead lighting up the night sky.  Raiders from the south had passed through, slaying all in their path.  His father had died valiantly protecting his family and their people, but to no avail.  Davthelion spent two days weeping for the lives of his parents and siblings.  On the third day, he awoke anewed, buried his family and friends.  He picked up the first sword he'd ever forged, sliced open his palm and swore an oath on their graves to live the rest of his days hunting down evil men and ending theirs.

He made his way to Gondor, where many of his kinsmen now dwelt, to assisit in the defences of Minas Tirith and Osgiliath.  He learned much in the years spent travelling south and spent much time in the towns and cities fighting injustice and opression wherever he found it.  Friendships were forged in Esteldin and Bree-town, wolves and spiders fell before him as he assisted the Shire folk.  He was even able to spend time in the hospitality of Lord Elrond in Rivendell, where his understanding of battle-lore multiplied manyfold.  Further south, he came across the Rohirrim and travelled in the company of Theodred, the Second Marshal of the Mark, for two years.  He found much similarity between the raids of the wildmen of Dunland and the manner in which his own family perished.  Hence it was in Rohan that the name of the warrior dressed in black was first whispered on the winds, as terror gripped the Dunlending fighters.  Although his life had become settled in Rohan, his heart looked to travel further south, as rumours of war came from Gondor.  He left then the Golden Hall of Edoras and his allies in the Rohirrim and came to the white city of Minas Tirith. 

To be continued when i can be arsed :P

Share to