ooc: application (hewaitsdreaming)
✢ The Player
Player Name: Dagger
Age: 26
LJ: palamecian
AIM / MSN / Y!M: drunkpoetry
E-mail: esperchild[at]hotmail[dot]com
Other Characters: N/A
✢ The Character
Character Name: Haldir
Fandom: Lord of the Rings
Canon Point: Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers, Battle at Helm's Deep
Age: Unspecified (But is is assumed that Haldir is quite ancient due to his elvish nature)
Appearance: Likened to others of his kind, Haldir is a tall and handsome Silvan Elf hailing from grand isles of Lothlórien. Fair skinned with only a hint of color around his eyes and cheeks, Haldir possesses an majestic flair that rivals that of the moon. He's not much different from normal a man, only in the sense that most his kind are known for their pale locks and unusual piercing blue eyes. His nose is long, his lips are full and his ears are curved upward to small point at the tip. Haldir typically dresses in earthy greens or in white, never straying too far from either colors except in times of war. His war attire consists of bronze, near golden armor and long red cloak. The armor he dons is as light as a feather but as hard as dragon scales with faint gold etchings undoubtedly crafted by Elven hands.
Abilities / Powers: Able to endure more than what a normal man can, Haldir can continue for hours on end with strenuous activities without much rest needed. This is because of the Elfin blood that courses through his veins. He's not only stronger than the average man but faster and more resilient. His skill with his bow is quite legendary, his Elven heritage giving him near perfect vision. He can see far from amazing distances and even shoot his arrows just as far.
While it's debatable if he's as skillful with a sword as he with a bow and arrow, Haldir certainly seems to be good at both. Haldir is dexterous and speedy, able to cross narrow ledges with relative ease. He's also immune to disease and heals faster than any normal person. This doesn't make him resilient to death but he's certainly a difficult one to kill. He's a brilliant tactician, a good leader who raises the moral of others just by his presence alone. His days as a marchwarden has taught him much about warfare and he uses every piece of knowledge to his advantage.
Outside of these skills, Haldir does possess a small knowledge in herblore. While he's no alchemist, he can certainly make elixirs potent enough to heal minor scraps or ease fevers. This skill of his is quite helpful on the battlefield but he honestly doesn't partake within it much. Haldir's usefulness lies in his marksmanship. Although he does have a fine talent for carving since he's rather good at carving weapons for himself and his men.
Inventory: Haldir will have an Elfin sword at his disposal, one tempered out of steel and crafted by the hands of kin along with a bow and satchel of arrows. He'll be arriving to this game right after his battle at Helm's Deep, meaning he'll be dressed in gold and red armor with a dark red cloak wrapped around his shoulders.
Personality: Unlike others of his kind, Haldir is a different breed of Elf who's known for his calm and polite demeanor. He's not easily roused to anger and nor is he exceedingly arrogant. He's merely himself, a caring and compassionate soul with a fondness for both peace and war. He's greatly a skilled warrior, a marchwarden who takes his duty with utmost seriousness. Haldir believes and defends Lórien's laws, quick to slay those who break them with a single shot from his bow. However, he is not violent in the sense that he would kill without just cause. Death is a matter that honestly terrifies him, a subject he cannot take lightly. Killing might be apart of his criteria as one of Lórien's guardians but he is no killer. He does find some pleasure in combat but is quick to favor friendly sparring rather than actual combat. The complexity of his character lies within his simplistic nature. As ancient as he might be, he hardly as wise Elrond but he is no fool either. He's daring bold and sometimes haughty but he's never reckless. Haldir does his best to lead his wardens, always offering them stern advice as well as equally stern commands. He leads his warden with his brothers, diligently protecting the borders of their woods against any and all intruders. The defense of his people is his primary objective, one he does with great ease and efficiency.
When Haldir encounters the Fellowship, he is one of the few Lórien elves who can actually speak the Weston tongue. His skill in the common language lies in his days as a curious adventurer who typically dealt with the caravans passing through the Golden Woods. He speaks the language with much ease unlike his brothers who prefer their Elvin tongue. Genial without seeming silly and stern without seeming cruel, Haldir is the kind of Elf that many would find easy to speak with unlike his kin. His somewhat cheerful demeanor makes Haldir a delight to speak with, but the wisdom he exudes makes most cling to his every word. His kindness towards others makes him exceptional for keeping the strained relations between Elf and Man from becoming even more violent. While he undoubtedly follows and upholds all of Lórien's traditions, Haldir isn't above apologizing for his people's harsh culture towards outsides. When he's forced to blindfold the dwarf, Gimli, he voices his apologies to him for the humiliation. He can recognize the good in others fairly easily while most cannot. He knew the Fellowship meant no harm to his people but still he continued with tasks without much hesitation.
While Haldir is most certainly is kind, there's a hint of frigidness about him that clings to all elves. He shows great disdain for Frodo, fearing the power of the great evil that is The One Ring. Haldir vehemently refused the Fellowship passage into Lorien at first, only to be swayed by none other than Aragon. His protectiveness over his homeland and kin desired for him to turn away the Fellowship, but knowing the desperateness of the ringbearer's plight forced him to think otherwise. This decision of his speaks of his compassion as well as his bravery to allow such evil to pass into his home for the sake of a greater good. Another example of such bravery would come much later at Helm's Deep, where Haldir himself leads his archers into what would be certain peril.
As honorable as he kind, Haldir is a warrior of unspeakable bravery, a soldier who would never turn his back on a comrade in need. His loyalty to his both his people and to Middle Earth shows in his sacrifice to beat back Sauron's horde at Helm's Deep. Outside of his duty as a warden, one could assume Haldir to be quite peaceful. He enjoys hunting, tending to his garden and cutting figures out of wood. The Elf's good with his hands and practices with his bow daily. While it's unknown if he ever had a lover, judging by the positive traits of his personality it wouldn't be impossible for him to love. Haldir's kindness is what guides him but his sternness tends to hide it well.
Yet as brave as Haldir seems his greatest fear is none other than death itself. He fears death. Such a word is uncommon to Elves considering the long lives they live, but simply acknowledging the existence of death scares him. Despite how good of a marksman he is, Haldir much rather live his days in peace and not war. Death lingers ever so closely around those who sacrifice their lives for a greater good. Knowing that he puts himself and his very soul in mortal danger, Haldir worries that his death will come sooner than later.
In accordance to his fear of death, Haldir hates to feel helpless or show weakness of any kind. Considering he's the leader or the marchwardens in Lothlórien, showing weakness is shameful. Haldir prides his strength above all else. He's a proud Elf, one who favors his talent with the blade and refuses to let others think of him as meek or weak. However, what he doesn't realize that sometimes he must rely on the skills of others in order to survive. His elven pride often stops him from seeking allies, making him vulnerable target for those who wish to do him harm. Helplessness disgusts him too no end and Haldir can be quite harsh towards those who exhibit such weakness. He would literally hate himself if he could not fend for himself or had to rely on the kindness of someone else to save him. While he scorns receiving help from others, Haldir also fears being alone. Being that he's immortal, Haldir always disliked socializing outside of his kind because of his longevity. If he were to join the world of Men, many of the friends he would make would die before him. Most might find the allure of being "eternal" to be a blessing but to Haldir it's a word that means never ending loneliness. Haldir certainly doesn't pine for mortality since he's quite fearful of death, but he's honestly scared of being alone. Rather hypocritical, no?
Elves typically don't possess too many hopes or dreams outside of living their days in blissful peace, but what Haldir pines for most is the chance to fall in love. In all his long years, Haldir never quite got the chance to settle down and enjoy the embrace of another. Of course, he had fleeting relationships in the past but nothing truly tangible. Hoping to someday find the love he seeks, Haldir buries this silly dream of his under a frigid layer of stoic aloofness. His need for companionship honestly embarrasses him more than it should because of his warrior upbringing. Haldir honestly believes that a warrior has no need for such triviality and yet here he is yearning for such. He dreams of the day he could experience a life outside of warfare and bloodshed yet abhors the idea of becoming placid and meek.
History: The History of a Marchwarden
First Person Sample:
[ Glass shatters and a sharp gasp is heard in its wake. ]
In Eru's name, what was that?
[ A voice calls out but no image is seen. It's far to dark for anything to be seen, only heard. ]
Something approaches...
[ The speaker shifts the communicator in his hands, raising it high but still an image cannot be seen. ]
Great peril can follow anywhere but here of all places? I had likened this realm to be a sanctuary but I see I was wrong.
[ Footsteps could be heard now, obviously Haldir is in search of something. ]
If such dangers come, I will need a blade. If not, then I would hope to continue with my rest.
[ He suddenly falls silent as he tilts the device upward, finally moving his thumb off the camera. The reason why it was so black earlier was because the Elf accidentally covered the camera lenses. Now instead of peering into endless darkness, the pale facade of the Silvan Elf was finally seen.
Haldir looks down into the device, his blue eyes marred with worry. ]
Are there many capable of forging such a weapon? I know of the difference between blades forged by Man and those by Elves, and I care not of which blade I receive as long as it's sharp.
Third Person Sample:
Marching through the reed and bush was perhaps his greatest joy. To feel the warm earth beneath his feet and the cool air rustling through his hair, brought great satisfaction to the marchwarden as he patrolled through the woods. Haldir, only armed with his bow and arrows, felt at ease this far from his home. He walked steadily along the dirt covered road, carefully footing his way along a steep hill that lead to roads unknown. The Elf moved with soundless grace, doing his best to keep his presence concealed. He could hear the delightful chirping of the sparrows that hid amongst the trees and even spotted a few rabbits hopping along the path with skittish care. Haldir smiled softly to himself he climbed the hill, silently wondering what sort of beauty lies beyond it. Finally reaching the summit, a look of surprise lingered upon the Elf's face as he stared out towards the horizon. The clouds were growing dark as night dared to approach. Faint slivers of sunlight ebbed between the cracks of the darkening sky, the sunset giving reminder that day will come yet again.
Honestly in awe of the breathtaking view, Haldir suddenly froze when he heard a whisper in the wind. It was faint, very faint, but the silent whisper he heard soon transformed into mournful cries. In desperate search of where those cries came from, the Elf sprang to action and hurried down the hill upon nimble feet. He kept walking through the woods until he spotted a clearing up ahead. There within the shadows was the lone figure of a small child. At first he assumed the child to be a small Elfling that traveled too far from home but as he approached, he realized the curve of those ears did not match his own. The Elf's brow knits in confusion. "You there." He called sternly. "Why is there a son of Man here in these woods--" Before he could even finish his inquiry, the youth hurriedly shot up from the ground and hid within the bushes. Tousled copper haired peaked out from the dark leaves as the youth peered at him with much distrust. "G-Go away!" The child shouted. "Go away or I'll scream!" Catching the frightened youth's gaze with his own, a faint smile lingered upon Haldir's lips as he tried to dispel his fears. "Worry not, young one." He murmured in a soft soothing voice. Intruder or not, this child seemed to be in need of help not punishment. "I mean you no harm."
Of course, the child dared not believe him but something within the boy's gaze changed as Haldir neared. Bravely stepping out of the bush, the child stared up at him with wide eyes. "...Y-You're an elf?" He asked with a wavering tone. Haldir nodded in response and the child came even nearer. "But my father always told me that elves no longer exist." At the mention of the boy's father, the lad began to brush the tears that fell previously off his tear stained cheeks. "My father...he...he's gone." No longer humored by the boy's astonishment, Haldir found himself eying the youth with worry. "What do you mean?" He asked. "Where has your father gone? Was he here with you?" The boy nodded. "That he was but along the road we were separated when a bear attacked." It didn't take much for Haldir to asset the situation but from what he gathered, the human boy was the son of a hunter and his father must've taken him here for a hunting trip.
Now wondering what to do with the youth, Haldir was jerked from his thoughts when he felt something tug at the ends of his cloak. It was the boy. He stares up at the Elf with teary red eyes. "Please." The child begged. "Will you help me? I need to find my father but I'm lost. He told me run when the bear struck but I haven't seen him since." Feeling a large lump in his throat, Haldir feared for the worst as the boy continued. There's a chance that the child's father was killed by that bear or worse, captured or killed by his wardens. Fearing the worst may have befallen upon this man and his child, Haldir forced himself to smile as knelt down before the boy.
"Worry not." He said with a brilliant smile. "I, Haldir, shall assist you in anyway I can."
Other:N/A
Player Name: Dagger
Age: 26
LJ: palamecian
AIM / MSN / Y!M: drunkpoetry
E-mail: esperchild[at]hotmail[dot]com
Other Characters: N/A
✢ The Character
Character Name: Haldir
Fandom: Lord of the Rings
Canon Point: Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers, Battle at Helm's Deep
Age: Unspecified (But is is assumed that Haldir is quite ancient due to his elvish nature)
Appearance: Likened to others of his kind, Haldir is a tall and handsome Silvan Elf hailing from grand isles of Lothlórien. Fair skinned with only a hint of color around his eyes and cheeks, Haldir possesses an majestic flair that rivals that of the moon. He's not much different from normal a man, only in the sense that most his kind are known for their pale locks and unusual piercing blue eyes. His nose is long, his lips are full and his ears are curved upward to small point at the tip. Haldir typically dresses in earthy greens or in white, never straying too far from either colors except in times of war. His war attire consists of bronze, near golden armor and long red cloak. The armor he dons is as light as a feather but as hard as dragon scales with faint gold etchings undoubtedly crafted by Elven hands.
Abilities / Powers: Able to endure more than what a normal man can, Haldir can continue for hours on end with strenuous activities without much rest needed. This is because of the Elfin blood that courses through his veins. He's not only stronger than the average man but faster and more resilient. His skill with his bow is quite legendary, his Elven heritage giving him near perfect vision. He can see far from amazing distances and even shoot his arrows just as far.
While it's debatable if he's as skillful with a sword as he with a bow and arrow, Haldir certainly seems to be good at both. Haldir is dexterous and speedy, able to cross narrow ledges with relative ease. He's also immune to disease and heals faster than any normal person. This doesn't make him resilient to death but he's certainly a difficult one to kill. He's a brilliant tactician, a good leader who raises the moral of others just by his presence alone. His days as a marchwarden has taught him much about warfare and he uses every piece of knowledge to his advantage.
Outside of these skills, Haldir does possess a small knowledge in herblore. While he's no alchemist, he can certainly make elixirs potent enough to heal minor scraps or ease fevers. This skill of his is quite helpful on the battlefield but he honestly doesn't partake within it much. Haldir's usefulness lies in his marksmanship. Although he does have a fine talent for carving since he's rather good at carving weapons for himself and his men.
Inventory: Haldir will have an Elfin sword at his disposal, one tempered out of steel and crafted by the hands of kin along with a bow and satchel of arrows. He'll be arriving to this game right after his battle at Helm's Deep, meaning he'll be dressed in gold and red armor with a dark red cloak wrapped around his shoulders.
Personality: Unlike others of his kind, Haldir is a different breed of Elf who's known for his calm and polite demeanor. He's not easily roused to anger and nor is he exceedingly arrogant. He's merely himself, a caring and compassionate soul with a fondness for both peace and war. He's greatly a skilled warrior, a marchwarden who takes his duty with utmost seriousness. Haldir believes and defends Lórien's laws, quick to slay those who break them with a single shot from his bow. However, he is not violent in the sense that he would kill without just cause. Death is a matter that honestly terrifies him, a subject he cannot take lightly. Killing might be apart of his criteria as one of Lórien's guardians but he is no killer. He does find some pleasure in combat but is quick to favor friendly sparring rather than actual combat. The complexity of his character lies within his simplistic nature. As ancient as he might be, he hardly as wise Elrond but he is no fool either. He's daring bold and sometimes haughty but he's never reckless. Haldir does his best to lead his wardens, always offering them stern advice as well as equally stern commands. He leads his warden with his brothers, diligently protecting the borders of their woods against any and all intruders. The defense of his people is his primary objective, one he does with great ease and efficiency.
When Haldir encounters the Fellowship, he is one of the few Lórien elves who can actually speak the Weston tongue. His skill in the common language lies in his days as a curious adventurer who typically dealt with the caravans passing through the Golden Woods. He speaks the language with much ease unlike his brothers who prefer their Elvin tongue. Genial without seeming silly and stern without seeming cruel, Haldir is the kind of Elf that many would find easy to speak with unlike his kin. His somewhat cheerful demeanor makes Haldir a delight to speak with, but the wisdom he exudes makes most cling to his every word. His kindness towards others makes him exceptional for keeping the strained relations between Elf and Man from becoming even more violent. While he undoubtedly follows and upholds all of Lórien's traditions, Haldir isn't above apologizing for his people's harsh culture towards outsides. When he's forced to blindfold the dwarf, Gimli, he voices his apologies to him for the humiliation. He can recognize the good in others fairly easily while most cannot. He knew the Fellowship meant no harm to his people but still he continued with tasks without much hesitation.
While Haldir is most certainly is kind, there's a hint of frigidness about him that clings to all elves. He shows great disdain for Frodo, fearing the power of the great evil that is The One Ring. Haldir vehemently refused the Fellowship passage into Lorien at first, only to be swayed by none other than Aragon. His protectiveness over his homeland and kin desired for him to turn away the Fellowship, but knowing the desperateness of the ringbearer's plight forced him to think otherwise. This decision of his speaks of his compassion as well as his bravery to allow such evil to pass into his home for the sake of a greater good. Another example of such bravery would come much later at Helm's Deep, where Haldir himself leads his archers into what would be certain peril.
As honorable as he kind, Haldir is a warrior of unspeakable bravery, a soldier who would never turn his back on a comrade in need. His loyalty to his both his people and to Middle Earth shows in his sacrifice to beat back Sauron's horde at Helm's Deep. Outside of his duty as a warden, one could assume Haldir to be quite peaceful. He enjoys hunting, tending to his garden and cutting figures out of wood. The Elf's good with his hands and practices with his bow daily. While it's unknown if he ever had a lover, judging by the positive traits of his personality it wouldn't be impossible for him to love. Haldir's kindness is what guides him but his sternness tends to hide it well.
Yet as brave as Haldir seems his greatest fear is none other than death itself. He fears death. Such a word is uncommon to Elves considering the long lives they live, but simply acknowledging the existence of death scares him. Despite how good of a marksman he is, Haldir much rather live his days in peace and not war. Death lingers ever so closely around those who sacrifice their lives for a greater good. Knowing that he puts himself and his very soul in mortal danger, Haldir worries that his death will come sooner than later.
In accordance to his fear of death, Haldir hates to feel helpless or show weakness of any kind. Considering he's the leader or the marchwardens in Lothlórien, showing weakness is shameful. Haldir prides his strength above all else. He's a proud Elf, one who favors his talent with the blade and refuses to let others think of him as meek or weak. However, what he doesn't realize that sometimes he must rely on the skills of others in order to survive. His elven pride often stops him from seeking allies, making him vulnerable target for those who wish to do him harm. Helplessness disgusts him too no end and Haldir can be quite harsh towards those who exhibit such weakness. He would literally hate himself if he could not fend for himself or had to rely on the kindness of someone else to save him. While he scorns receiving help from others, Haldir also fears being alone. Being that he's immortal, Haldir always disliked socializing outside of his kind because of his longevity. If he were to join the world of Men, many of the friends he would make would die before him. Most might find the allure of being "eternal" to be a blessing but to Haldir it's a word that means never ending loneliness. Haldir certainly doesn't pine for mortality since he's quite fearful of death, but he's honestly scared of being alone. Rather hypocritical, no?
Elves typically don't possess too many hopes or dreams outside of living their days in blissful peace, but what Haldir pines for most is the chance to fall in love. In all his long years, Haldir never quite got the chance to settle down and enjoy the embrace of another. Of course, he had fleeting relationships in the past but nothing truly tangible. Hoping to someday find the love he seeks, Haldir buries this silly dream of his under a frigid layer of stoic aloofness. His need for companionship honestly embarrasses him more than it should because of his warrior upbringing. Haldir honestly believes that a warrior has no need for such triviality and yet here he is yearning for such. He dreams of the day he could experience a life outside of warfare and bloodshed yet abhors the idea of becoming placid and meek.
History: The History of a Marchwarden
First Person Sample:
[ Glass shatters and a sharp gasp is heard in its wake. ]
In Eru's name, what was that?
[ A voice calls out but no image is seen. It's far to dark for anything to be seen, only heard. ]
Something approaches...
[ The speaker shifts the communicator in his hands, raising it high but still an image cannot be seen. ]
Great peril can follow anywhere but here of all places? I had likened this realm to be a sanctuary but I see I was wrong.
[ Footsteps could be heard now, obviously Haldir is in search of something. ]
If such dangers come, I will need a blade. If not, then I would hope to continue with my rest.
[ He suddenly falls silent as he tilts the device upward, finally moving his thumb off the camera. The reason why it was so black earlier was because the Elf accidentally covered the camera lenses. Now instead of peering into endless darkness, the pale facade of the Silvan Elf was finally seen.
Haldir looks down into the device, his blue eyes marred with worry. ]
Are there many capable of forging such a weapon? I know of the difference between blades forged by Man and those by Elves, and I care not of which blade I receive as long as it's sharp.
Third Person Sample:
Marching through the reed and bush was perhaps his greatest joy. To feel the warm earth beneath his feet and the cool air rustling through his hair, brought great satisfaction to the marchwarden as he patrolled through the woods. Haldir, only armed with his bow and arrows, felt at ease this far from his home. He walked steadily along the dirt covered road, carefully footing his way along a steep hill that lead to roads unknown. The Elf moved with soundless grace, doing his best to keep his presence concealed. He could hear the delightful chirping of the sparrows that hid amongst the trees and even spotted a few rabbits hopping along the path with skittish care. Haldir smiled softly to himself he climbed the hill, silently wondering what sort of beauty lies beyond it. Finally reaching the summit, a look of surprise lingered upon the Elf's face as he stared out towards the horizon. The clouds were growing dark as night dared to approach. Faint slivers of sunlight ebbed between the cracks of the darkening sky, the sunset giving reminder that day will come yet again.
Honestly in awe of the breathtaking view, Haldir suddenly froze when he heard a whisper in the wind. It was faint, very faint, but the silent whisper he heard soon transformed into mournful cries. In desperate search of where those cries came from, the Elf sprang to action and hurried down the hill upon nimble feet. He kept walking through the woods until he spotted a clearing up ahead. There within the shadows was the lone figure of a small child. At first he assumed the child to be a small Elfling that traveled too far from home but as he approached, he realized the curve of those ears did not match his own. The Elf's brow knits in confusion. "You there." He called sternly. "Why is there a son of Man here in these woods--" Before he could even finish his inquiry, the youth hurriedly shot up from the ground and hid within the bushes. Tousled copper haired peaked out from the dark leaves as the youth peered at him with much distrust. "G-Go away!" The child shouted. "Go away or I'll scream!" Catching the frightened youth's gaze with his own, a faint smile lingered upon Haldir's lips as he tried to dispel his fears. "Worry not, young one." He murmured in a soft soothing voice. Intruder or not, this child seemed to be in need of help not punishment. "I mean you no harm."
Of course, the child dared not believe him but something within the boy's gaze changed as Haldir neared. Bravely stepping out of the bush, the child stared up at him with wide eyes. "...Y-You're an elf?" He asked with a wavering tone. Haldir nodded in response and the child came even nearer. "But my father always told me that elves no longer exist." At the mention of the boy's father, the lad began to brush the tears that fell previously off his tear stained cheeks. "My father...he...he's gone." No longer humored by the boy's astonishment, Haldir found himself eying the youth with worry. "What do you mean?" He asked. "Where has your father gone? Was he here with you?" The boy nodded. "That he was but along the road we were separated when a bear attacked." It didn't take much for Haldir to asset the situation but from what he gathered, the human boy was the son of a hunter and his father must've taken him here for a hunting trip.
Now wondering what to do with the youth, Haldir was jerked from his thoughts when he felt something tug at the ends of his cloak. It was the boy. He stares up at the Elf with teary red eyes. "Please." The child begged. "Will you help me? I need to find my father but I'm lost. He told me run when the bear struck but I haven't seen him since." Feeling a large lump in his throat, Haldir feared for the worst as the boy continued. There's a chance that the child's father was killed by that bear or worse, captured or killed by his wardens. Fearing the worst may have befallen upon this man and his child, Haldir forced himself to smile as knelt down before the boy.
"Worry not." He said with a brilliant smile. "I, Haldir, shall assist you in anyway I can."
Other:N/A