User:Arathin/Arathin Anazra

Arathin Anazra
The House of Anazra
World:	Laurelin
Vocation:	Tinker
Class:	Captain
Race:	Man
Region:	Eriador
Age:	27
Height:	187cm
Sex:	Male
Skin:	Light
Hair:	Black
Eye:	Blue

Description

Physical Description: Arathin has crystal blue eyes, which show kindess and love. Arathins eyes show what is behind the armour, it is a gateway to Arathins soft side. His fine black and rather short hair, has clearly been touched by a comb from time to time. Arathin has a rather light skin compared to the other people of Gondor. His face is always shaved, and in most occations clean. His body is muscular and can clearly be seen behind his armourer, that this man has some physical strength. Arathin's arms are slightly more muscular than the rest of his body, as it requires strength and agility to be able to handle a Great Sword. Some minior scars and traces of old but smaller wounds on his chest and legs are also to be spotted, alas what else could you expect of a warrior?

Personality Description: The friends would probably describe Arathin as a helpfull, kind, and generally a good man. Still some, may consider Arathin foolish. Arathin may from time to time act in a foolish way, or even in a crazy one, but as Arathin says himself.

If i was not foolish nor crazy, then none of this would have worked..

Arathin is generally tolerant, but he has been loosing his fuse very quickly before. When he does so, he may (and has) be using less Knightly methods, still he takes theese methods and moderation. From time to time Arathin may speak before he even thinks, which has gained him a couple of unfriendly characters and sometimes coursed him great trouble.

To get Arathin really to know, you will have to meet him.

Early Days

Arathin was born on a tiny Pipe-weed Farm in Southeren Ithillien, called Aramdir's Stead, named after Arathin's father, Aramdir. Arathin's mother, which his father never spoke off, or told Arathin anything about, died very shortly after Arathins birth. From that day Aramdir had changed, the young, happy, loveable and kind man had turned into a more stubborn, harsh and strict father. The death of his wife was an obvius course to his change. Already from birth Arathin had a fairly trying childhood, and he grew up a normal farm-boys life, running errands and helping his father in the tiny field. Aramdir's stead was a fairly little farm, with a little Pipe-weed field and working in the field was a hard work. The house had only two rooms. One was the living room, which also worked as a kitchen and there was also a little couch for Arathin to sleep on. The secound room was more of a storage room and a bedroom for Aramdir, Arathin's father. As Arathin grew up, he and his father shared several moments of conflict.

Into Middle-Earth

I choose Death before Dishonor - Arathin Anazra

Crossing the Great River Anduin

Arathin decided to travel south, towards Pelargir. A settlement on the other side of the great river Anduin, that ran through Gondor. How ever, his footsteps took him dangerously close to southeren Gondor, close to the Haradrim. The land was barren, long plains of dried grass, and barley any tree's as far as the eye could see. The days were warm and the nights cold. The land seemed fairly quiet, now and then a flight of birds flew across the clear blue skies, seeking warmth from the cold north. The roads were few and have rarely been travelled upon. The grass took upon a light green/yellow colour, due to the warmth and the lack of rain in the lands. The nights were cold and dark and the skies starless, as If the Valar pulled the black curtain over the skies, covering the sun, the stars and the moon. As days passed, he finally reached the great river, and travelled along it, waiting for Pelargir to rise in the horizon. At the bank of the river, he could fill his water purses up, with fresh and cold water. The powerfull stream and the many rocks in the river, cleaned the water from sand, dirt and dust, leaving clean and cold water. Several days passed, and rations were already running fairly low. When he thought the sight of Pelargir would never meet his eyes, he saw the cities towers rise in the horizon. At night Arathin could spot the fire in the towers, signalling ships to the river. As he travelled through the dry plains of the South, he muttered a quiet song...

When the cold of Winter comes

Starless night will cover day

In the veiling of the sun

We will walk in bitter rain

But in dreams

(But in dreams)

I can hear your name

And in dreams

(And in dreams)

We will meet again

When the seas and mountains fall

And we come to end of days

In the dark I hear a call

Calling me there

I will go there

And back again

As he kept venturing close to the bank of the great river, he spotted a small collum of tree's near the bank. The tree's were far from the tall and beutifull green tree's that one may see along the roads of Ithillien. These tree's were black and gray. The smell of smoke and ash filled Arathin's nose as he came closer. A small group of birds flew past him, catching his attention briefly before seeing their direction to the burned tree's. Upon the approach, he spotted a couple of burned and ruined farm houses within the collum of these trees. There was barley anything left of this farm. The house and stables were burn to the ground, and the fields gray from the ashes of the grain. Small tools and objects were spread out on the ground. Bowls, sacks, clothes, and various tools. Arathin scavenged the various objects for something that could still be of use. Not much survived the flames, how ever a cooking pot that laid burried beneath some rocks seemed in a fair shape still. The indside of the house seemed cold and haunted by this tratergy. Nothing worth bringing survived the flames. Upon entering the stables, there was a long robe of a sort, burried under huge masses of rocks. Upon removing the scarf, a cold chill went down Arathin's spine, as his gaze met the face of a once pretty girl from beneath the scarf. The young girls skin was gray as ashes and a red string of dried blood ran from her eyes and mouth. Her soft skin was cold as ice in the coldest winters, and her hair half burnt. The scarf had a dark red colour, with a scent of brown which seemed to have survived the flames. It was still soft, soft as the girls skin. Her eyes stared upon him, her eye colour slowly fainting. Arathin closed her eyes with his hand in a slow and shaken motion. A slight tear escapes his eye upon doing so and glancing to the scarf in his other hand.

He studied the fabrics of the scarf briefly before slowly putting it around his neck. Outside, near the bank of the great river, there was a still untouched boat. It was small but would suffice for crossing the river. Having untied the boat, Arathin jumped in it, and grabbed the pedals and began the long and hard journey across the river.

Pelargir, The Garth of Royal Ships

Feeling exhausted, hungry and cold, by night, Arathin made it to the opposite bank of the river. The landscape on the other side was far from greener, than before and there were still few trees to see. Yet he did not cease to continue. Pelargir, the greatest port in Gondor awaited his arrival and he was deteminded to reach Its wall before morning. There was no better company than birds that sang during the night. The rations had run out and by now he already began missing the comfort of Aramdir's Stead. Back home, the Pipe-weed field would be ready for another harvest, the green grass stood high above ground, and the apple trees would already be dropping the apples now and then. The water in the small river would travel at a lazy rate down towards Anduin, and the calm and fresh wind would blow through the trees at the same lazy rate. Arathin swayed slightly as he walked towards the gates, while dreaming of home.

An hour later, Arathin reached the gates of Pelargir. He looked up at the huge towers peering up at the skies, seeming even more majestic than from the other side of the river. As he even approached further he noticed that the gates were closed. With haste he ran at the steps of the gates and hammered onto the wooden door on the rear. As he hammered onto the wood, a loud and snarling voice shouted from beyond the door. "Oh my, oh my, why can they never leave me alone, who is it?". A small hatch was opened in the door, and beyond it, he could spot an older man with long and fine gray combed hair. "Who are you?" he snarled again. "My name is Arathin, good sir. I seek food and drink, and a warm bed for the night.". The man smacked the hatch close. He fiddled with his keys until he found the right one and unlocked the wooden door, giving Arathin entrance into Pelargir.

The streets were fairly empty at this hour. Again this night was starless and clouded as Arathin made his way towards "The White Bird Inn". The Inn was located near the harbour and was Pelargir's biggest and most busy Inn, however far from the most elegant. Few drops of rain fell down from the skies. One. Two. Three. It was not long before the rain poured down from the skies like a waterfall. The Inn was dark and filled with smoke. The fireplaces and the few candles on the tables struggled to keep the darkness at bay in the Inn. The patrons threw a glance at Arathin, at this young and exhausted traveller in soaked clothes. "What can I do for ye young lad?". "Bread, water, and a warm bed, good sir.". Arathin shook a bit from the cold as he answered the tall, bearded Inn Keeper. The Inn Keeper merely nodded firmly, as he crouched, fumbling with some keys beneath the desk. He placed a half rusten key upon the desk. "Have a seat, I'll have the bread coming in a moment.". He placed a huge tankard of water infront of Arathin and gestured towards an empty table in the corner. Arathin took a seat and made himself comfortable as he awaited the bread. A few patrons still glared at him and Arathin attempted to avoid eye contact. The Inn Keeper placed a plate with a huge piece of bread infront of him, then strifed lazily back towards his counter. Bit by bit he ate the bread, while regulary taking a glance or two through the room. As time passed the room became more and more empty, and after his meal he went upstairs to his room. The lock made a loud noise as he unlocked the door. The room was very small. A small bed with a thin blanket and a small pillow, a tiny empty desk and an old window. Arathin locked the door again, the loud noise echoing through the small half empty room. He placed his gear and soaked clothes on the floor and crept into bed.

The rain fell heavily down onto the roof and on the window and made noises during the entire night. He turned to take a hold of the dark red scarf, taking his time to feel the softness of the silk. Again he pictured the girls face and the scarf around her neck, it gave him a small chill down his spine before he closed his eyes, and fell asleep.

That night he woke up smelling smoke. Men shouting, woman screaming and children crying is what met his ears as he woke up. Quickly he moved to the window and glared through it. What met his gaze were ships with black sails, firing their cannons upon the harbour, soldiers and guards storming from one direction to the other, while the civillians made thier way towards the cellars. Quickly Arathin jumped into his trouses, put on his shirt and coat, and remembered to fasten his belt and his sword. When the keys finally managed to unlock the door, he stormed downstairs in the Inn. There was not a soul left. With all haste he ran into the kitchen and took big batches of bread and vegtables, packing them into his backpack before storming outside. As he smashed the door open, one of the Gondorian ships exploded near the docks and sank slowly onto the bottom of the river. The ships with black sails came closer and closer towards the docks, while the guard was still assembling. Arathin took hasty steps towards the northeren entrance of Pelargir, while cannonballs flew from left to right above his head. By now he could hear the battle cries, as he glanced behind his shoulder seeing the pirates jumping onto the docks and engaging the guards. As he arrived at the northeren gate, it was locked, and the guards denied to open it. With all haste Arathin made his ways back towards the docks. As he approached, one of the ports towers could not last any longer against the incoming cannonballs, and cracked then slowly tipped to the right and fell with a tremendous speed down onto the other buildings and bursted into flames.

At the habour the Inn was already in ruins, and the guard was getting pushed further and further back by the hordes of the merciless pirates. Arathin rushed to aid the guards, drawing his sword he charged the pirate horde swinging his blade alongside the guards.

The Corsairs were brutal and barbarous fighters. They swung their blades like there was no tomorrow, running and clashing into the line of guards, as If they cared not for their lives. The horn of Gondor sounded, and the Captain of Pelagir, Balarak, called for a retreat to the next defensive position at the dock entrances, where guards have put up primitive barricades, made up by anything they could find. Carts, booths, lumber, stone, just about anything. As Arathin pierced yet another Corsair with his longsword, he retreated with the rest of the guards. "Hey - you there. All civillians are supposed to stay in the houses!".

Arathin looked towards the source of the voice, and saw Captain Balarak shouting at him. "Get out of the-" The Corsairs reached the barricades, and once again clashed into the line of guards. The Captains attention was immitetly redirected towards the battle. Soon, fire and smoke rose from the docks, as the Corsairs pillaged, looted and burnt everything down there. Some of the Gondorian ships were finally manned and soon in position to destroy the Corsair's ships. Some of the Corsairs ran back towards their ships, with their loot, and some ran back, seeming to have lost their courage. "You there - what is your name?". Arathin heard the Captain once again calling upon him. "Arathin, son of Aramdir". "We require a messenger to ask for assistance from the garrison in Arnach, north of Pelargir.

"But, I do not know the way, sir.". "The main road at the northeren gate will take you directly to the city. Now hurry, I need all the guards I can spare here, with all haste, go Arathin.". Arathin made a slight grimace as he was unsure about this, and kept nervously shifiting his weight from his left foot, to the right. "Yes sir.". Captain Balarak sent Arathin a swift nod, before turning his attention back to the battle. He adjusted his belt and his backpack, before sprinting through the alleys and houses in Pelargir to reach the northeren gate.

The notheren gate of Pelargir was fortunatly not yet taken by the Corsairs. A few guards stood by making sure that the Corsairs would not gain control of the gate. "Get back into your house citizen!". The Sergeant shouted, pointing his spear towards Arathin's belly. "Captain Balarak has ordered me to bring this message to Arnach for reinforcements, let me pass.". The Sergeant snapped the letter out of Arathin's hand as he was about to give it. The Sergeant took a quick glance on the seal of the letter. He responded with a swift nod and handed Arathin back the letter, then turned to the guard at the gate. "Open the gates!". The noise of the gate working itself upwards contributed a great deal to the already present noise of swords clashing, buildings being torn and burned. As Arathin was about to sprint through the gates the Sergeant once again called upon him. "You ain't going to be no use If you don't ride a horse, here, take this one. His name is Rîhn. One of the finest horses in Pelargir, now ride!". Arathin quickly jumped the horse and rode as fast as the horse could muster towards Arnach.

Through the woods, through the darkness he kept on riding towards his goal. Fearing a possible Corsair ambush on the road he always kept a watchfull eye and from time to time resulted to ride through the fields. As the gates of Arnach were finally upon the horizon, Arathin could not help but to smile. However the smile quickly disapered as he wondered how the battle has gone since he left. The Gate-keeper shouted. "Who goes there?". "It is I, Arathin son of Aramdir, I bring a message from Captain Balarak of Pelargir. It is critical news, bring me to the Captain as quickly as possible, Pelargir is under attack!". The Gate-Keeper quickly ordered his men to open the gates as Arathin rode on towards the Captain's Quarter. Arathin's rash riding through the streets brought him attention of the civillians indside the city. As he finally stood face to face with Captain Relandin of Arnach, he handed over the letter. Dispite the mixed feeling of curiosity, worriness and fear, the Captain seemed to stay calm, and opened and read the letters casually as If it was -routine-. "Get the Knight's together, we ride for Pelargir.". Captain Relandin spoke quietly to his Lieutenant. As he turned away from Arathin and made his way towards the barracks, Arathin broke his silence. "What about me sir?". "Stay in Arnach.". The Captain said without even sparering a glance to Arathin. "I can wield a sword and ride a horse sir, let me fight with your Knights!". This time the Captain turned towards Arathin, and took a few steps towards him. "We don't want anymore civillian casualities. Just because you have a sword doesen't mean you know how to use it.". Arathin, being the young and smart man who thought he could take the world on, was about to make his comeback when he suddenly was striked by silence.

The Captain was right. Arathin did have a sword, but did that also mean he could use it?

A Knight of Gondor

Arathin stayed at an Inn, where the rooms were not much better than the one in Pelargir. How ever he felt he could sleep safetly and peacefully now. The following morning he woke up to a loud noise outside the Inn, on the streets. A long line of roughly fifty footmen were on their way through the gates of Anarch. People met up to bid the footmen farewell and a safe road. Arathin joined the crowd looking at the footmen. The faces of the worried children and woman made Arathin frown, how ever he soon smiled as he remembered his even younger days. When he saw the soldiers march through Ithillien. Arathin always admired the soldiers and their armour, and the prestige they had.

It was as If he was 10 again. How ever the moment passed soon again, as he realized that the raid on Pelargir was the first time he saw hundreds of men charge at eachother to -kill- eachother. The smile upon his face faded quickly again, as he finally understood the responsibility, the danger and the risk these men took to keep Gondor safe. The Gondorian flag over the gates of Anarch were calmly waving with the wind. The sun was shining and the skies clear. The mood did not match the weather, it was a disturbing thing.

At the end of the day a messenger rode through the gates of Arnach. Again the townsfolks attention was stolen by the messenger. It was as if a scene that had already occured, had happened again before Arathin, merely only from a different perspective. The Messenger rode on his steed through the streets towards the barracks. Later that day the townsfolk of Arnach gossiped over the recent events. At the same day the Captain announced that fifty footmen would be sent to Pelargir to enforce the garrison. The Footmen marched through the streets towards Pelargir. The streets were not only crowded by the soldiers, but by Townsfolk aswell.

The following night Arathin sat there in his small lonely room in the Inn, staring into the ceilling, as he pondered over the events, and what his next moves would be. The scarf he had picked up at the burned down houses on the other side of the Anduin River layed stretched over his bed. The memories from that place came back into his mind. It was the Corsairs. No doubt. A frown appeard on his face as he turned his gaze onto the ceilling again. "Just because you have a sword, then it does not mean, you know how to use it". He muttered to himself. The Captain was right, swinging a sword is one thing, swinging it right is another.

The following morning was very quiet. Arathin woke up and headed into the streets. Once again everyday life in Arnach came back. As reports have been good from Pelargir, the Townsfolk worried no more.

"Anazra", From the Sea

"Anazra is Numenorian. It means - From the Sea, you know what that means, don't you?"

Discovering his origin and bloodline, finding it connected with the Numenorian people, also called the Dunedain, the Rangers ect, he also discovered to be a member of the House of Anazra, a noble Dunedain family, which also had a high position in Gondor.

As the Kingdom of Arnor kept growing, more of the people travelled further south. Aswell as the fall of Arnor began, even more moved down towards what is known as Gondor. Aswell as the Anazra family. For years the Numenorian blood became weaker and mixed with the native Gondorians blood. Although the House of Anazra were one of the few families to have a more pure Numenorian blood.

Some native Gondorians were married or adopted into the family, although very few, the Elder of the family wished to keep the blood as strong as possible, yet they did not fully success.

Anazra, Lord of Anfalas.

The Anazra family were appointed protectors of Anfalas. A small Gondorian region to the south, today plauged by the Umbarian Pirates from the far South. The first appointed Lord of Anfalas was, Erandin, son of Eranfrandir. Through the years the Anazra Family protected and served the citizens of Anfalas, while the pure Royal Numenorian Bloodline ruled Gondor from the throne in Minas Tirith.

Eventually the family decreased. War was coming to Middle Earth, and the Umbarian Pirates made trouble for the citizens of Anfalas. At the Lordship of Aranfrandin, Aramdir's father and Arathin's grandather, he demanded more troops for the South from the Steward.

"You'r people, my people, our people are dying in the lands of Anfalas. Yet no reinforcements are sent, even though as I stand here, in the King's halls, walk through his cities, I see soldiers yet to be put to work."

"Theese halls, this city, is mine." -Lord Aranfrandin and the Steward of Gondor, having a conversation in the White City.

As the relations between Aranfrandin and the Steward became decreased, so did the support for Anfalas region. He belived in the return of the King, yet the Steward did not.

Friends and Enemies

Friends:

Elfves of Rivendell

Wardens of Annuminas

Knights of Gondor

Enemies:

The Enemies of the Free People

Famous Quotes:

• I choose Death before Dishonour

• Men can be inspired by other men, but only the men themselfves can conquere their fears

• Love can give so much, but can take so much more

• I choose this path because I must, I must because I care, I care because I love.

Gossip

• Has been seen around Bree frequently in the past, how ever he is not that much around anymore.

• Rumored to be or have been a Gondorian Knight.

• Being a very dangerous person.

• Very loose rumours of being Dunedan