Swithin, Rider of the Mark

Character Name: Swithin

Name Meaning: Strong-Friend

Age: 29

Date of Birth: April 27 2980 T.A.

Race: Man

Residence: Edoras

Profession: Rider of the Mark

Appearance: Standing at 6'3”, lean and muscular, and light on his feet. Similar in looks to his twin brother, though he boasts ginger beard and wavy hair, taking well after his father. Some battle scars fleck his arms, though never anything severe enough to warrant more than a few stitches done on the field. Deaf in his right ear, he prefers to speak face to face with people, or at least keep them on his left side that he can hear them. Due to many hears of training he has ease of use with both hands, and can fight double handed when need be.

Personality: Swithin is a merrymaker and a seeker. He gained his father's penchant and ability to notice and speak with anyone, though where his father's rough expression comes through, Swithin goes about his days with the smile gleaned from his mother, and a sense of humor which he shares with his brother. He has many friends; close friends, distant friends, acquaintances. He will talk to anyone; it hardly matters who. He has no real enemies beyond the orc and Dunlending of the plain, giving everyone a chance, though intolerable of those who are cruel.

The man is a problem solver; which works well for his ability in the Eored. His humor and banter settles when he is in armor, and he is one of the men his Captain often turns to for advice when a choice is presented; Swithin often coming forth with a fresh idea that the more straight and narrow Captain would not have brought to mind or attempt.

Swithin loves life, and makes the most of it; wishing for everyone around him to have the same love. He can be at times, quite nervous, though remains collected, pressing most fears and worries away with a joke and a laugh to lighten the blow.





Parents: Heruthain .55. and Katla .51.

Brothers:

Oswin .29. Twin Brother
Gram .14. Adoptive Brother

Spouse: None

Children: None

History:

Though their family deals in warfare, Swithin and Oswin have lived lives of relative peace and harmony. Their family bonds are strong, and they've had a best friend since the first minutes of their lives. The twin infants set in their mother's lap grasped and clutched at each other, stilling loud cries the moment they were placed together.

The boys grew together, inseparable, well loved by both their parents, never lacking for a safe and comfortable home. Their cousins, though much older, were in and out. Their small home like a bunkhouse for those in need, the boys had stacked beds like a military barracks lining the walls, and extra cots folded and slid beneath, ready to house any number of relatives, and any number of farm boys who walked to the city during the week for training. Oswin and Swithin enjoyed their cramped space, and abundance of companions to keep them happy and busy. Every boy who came to stay with them was treated as a brother, and their elder cousin who lived with them was like a big sister.

Mother had insisted on choosing their given names, for she knew that father, or Pop, as he came to be known, would simply make a nickname for them and call them by it all their days. For his own boys it took a bit of time, and new names wound in and out through their infant years, but at the age of two the life names Pop gave them seemed to stick. One toddler sitting at the table, stuffing spoonful after spoonful into mouth, crying for more “Tates! Tates!”. A growing boy! His love of the mashed potato earned Oswin the nickname “Tate”. The brother sitting beside him, the silly goose, was putting as many mashed potatoes upon his head as in his mouth. “Wike Os,” he declared, his now golden potato crown covering his copper hair, matching his brother now in all ways, at least in his own small mind. “You Goose!” Pop had called him, and the name settled upon Swithin since.

Shadowing their father through the city; a gruff man to outsiders, but doting love and affection on those who knew them; their favorite times were the days he would return home from his stints on the plain as a Captain of the Eored. The boys knew very well that the first night home it was early to bed for them, because that time was for Mam and Pop. The next day was completely theirs. Pop's favorite breakfast, followed up with whatever adventure he would take them on. Even his errands were adventures when they got to leave Mam's side and trail after their favorite person.

It was a day in early winter once, when they were nearly five years old, that Pop took them out on the horse for an explore along Snowbourne. Not far from home, but further than he had taken them before. It was merely a day to walk about and explore, and Pop had his bow, intending to bring home a rabbit or a pheasant for supper that night. The boys were sitting and bounding along the edge of the Snowbourne, a place where the water was pooling and calm, floating dead leaves and grasses to their hearts content while Pop stood off some paces up on the bank; half watching them and half waiting for whatever animal might present itself for supper. A rabbit bounded through the grasses, and Pop, intent on tracking it moved off further, while the little boys played as frogs in the mud. Smearing it upon their faces and clothing and hopping along on all fours. Bounding past the line Pop had drawn in the mud for them, to the big rocks, and seeing how far they could leap.

The boys matched each other for strength and leap, taking longer and longer bounds, and challenging each other further. Swithin jumped ahead, making precarious landing on a rock with water moving swiftly past; bracing himself so he would not fall for Oswin's jump. Oswin leapt, bounding rock to rock, and on the final leap, slipped, falling into water. Swithin reached for him, but in his reach tumbled along behind, both boys screaming as the river pulled them clutching each other. One was under, and then the other, choking on water, fingers gripping slippery, cold rock, until after what had seemed as ages to Oswin, Pop was there dragging them onto the bank. Oswin crawled and coughed, and at first did not realize that his brother was not moving beside him. It was only Pop's yelling and crying that drew his attention; flipping his small son to tilt his head and breathe into his mouth, Swithin finally gagged and coughed and spit up (as Pops tells the story now) “Near half the Snowbourne. Even a fish and a whale came out of him, and then a duck with her five ducklings trailing behind.”

Hauling his sodden children back to the city, they both took chill. Katla was livid for it was another pair of her children nearly lost. She went a whole week without speaking to Heruthain, and Heruthain went, for the first time in his life, a whole week without speaking at all. Oswin had taken the least of the trauma and it was only a day or two before he was back to himself. Swithin lay a bed however. He had taken water to the lung, water to the ears, both crying and coughing for pain, and came feverish to a point that Heruthain needed to carry his son down to the Healing Hall. When Oda, one of the senior healers, saw the child's state, she was livid he had taken so long to bring him in. She told him, “Should have brought him the moment you came back to the city, boy!”

Swithin was a strong boy, with gentle care of the healers brought out of his fever, but he was frightened in the Hall. He had never been away from his brother before, and cried for him day and night, even more than he cried for his parents. What was worse, when people spoke to him, it was only their mouths that moved, and no sound came. The water in his ears had left the child deaf. He would lay on his cot in the Hall and scream as loud as he could, keeping the patients awake, causing the healers to run to him in panic, or to chastise him, but he could never hear their responses, nor could he hear Mam's voice when she visited, nor Oswin's. Not even Pop's booming voice. Only a muffled sound that made no sense.

Finally allowed back to his home, he passed the winter indoors, Mam never letting him set foot outside in the snow like his brother was allowed, he lay in bed warming. Little by little, with treatments of compresses and the house kept hot and dry, the hearing of one ear returned to him, though Swithin was left profoundly deaf in the other, the pain in his bad ear lasting a year beyond, prone to bouts of bleeding for some time thereafter, and mostly kept indoors by his Mam until he felt fully well again. With Oswin by his side his humor returned to him, though at the age of seven, due to his year of being home bound, Swithin was never again as fast or able as his twin. For every gain Swithin made, Oswin was a footstep ahead. The boys not noticed the difference while Swithin was sick indoors, though once they were free to play and race on the streets again, it became apparent. Swithin was a happy child, though inwardly frustrated with his inadequacies.

Taking after their father by way of swordsmanship, they began to practice early and young; always having each other to spar with. They followed Heruthain to the training grounds every chance they had, beginning true training at the age of ten. Oswin and Swithin were their Mam's helpers on their offtime, learning various handy skills to keep the home in working order while Pop was out with his Eored. Laughing and jesting and keeping the household near as loud as it was when Pop was home.

Their cousin Astrid, seventeen years their elder still lived in their home. She was a second mother to the boys, a seamstress, keeping mostly to herself and quiet compared to the rest of the household; the only to have her own room and space. She had settled down from her youthful days, though was always slightly troubled by her childhood and the loss of her father and mother when she had been young, though Heruthain's family had been as good a home as any, and better than what she was raised with. She picked up a habit when she was in her twenties that seemed to settle her soul. Just a drink before bed to to keep her company, Heruthain had banned brennevin from the household always since his brother's demise by drunkenness. He caught his niece with it out in the town more than once, though she was always a mild sort and it did not seem to affect her as much as it did some others. It was in secret that she drank much in her own room in the nights.

Finally a day came when Astrid did not wake from bed and join the family for their breakfasts. By noon, Katla thought she must have taken ill and had tried to wake her through the door to no avail. It was then that she sent her sons who were lithe and quick, wishing to be scouts for the Eored, around to the window to sneak in and check on her, and when the boys had pried open the window from the outside and made their way past the curtains, they found their cousin with her bottle of drink beside, asleep in the washtub, face under water, and stone cold since the night before.

The funeral of Astrid was perhaps the saddest day of young Swithin's life. The feel of the Snowbourne in his throat had never quiet left his memory, and he imagined her death often. Though in appearance, taking it like the rest of his family, life settled back to normal again after a time. When they were thirteen years old, their Father came home for good, taking a transfer to become one of the Training Captains in the city. He wished to better raise his boys to be good young men, pressing them to work hard with their Captains at the training grounds, help their mother and neighbors in everything, and laugh hard with their family at home. Pop's devotion was his wife and children, and he was ever present for every help or word of advice they needed.

At the age of eighteen the boys having trained for many years were ready to take up a place in the Eored, looking forward to scouting the front lines. Swithin's hearing held him back, and for every bit of extra effort he had put in training, he could not regain that physicality to help him pass the course. Oswin became a scout; Swithin a spearman.

Oswin saw more sights; had more adventure, but told Swithin everything he had come across by firelight. The daily separation was new to them, though it only made for more stories for each brother to recount at the ends of the days, and it was not as poorly as Swithin had expected it to be, for Oswin was alone all the day, moving quiet through the landscape, and Swithin was surrounded by friends on horseback to laugh and jest with.

Then they were men. Returning from their first rides, they took to the tavern in celebration. Their first mugs of mead went down sweet. Swithin tempered himself; Astrid coming to mind. One mug made you relax. Two mugs and you were laughing more than you could contain. Swithin grinned, covering the cup with his hand for no more servings. He could laugh without it, and his Pop would not be disappointed in him. Oswin was an indulger, however, and it came to be as it was when they were children, Swithin would jump in after him and pull him back when he came too near drowning in the liquid, hauling his laughing brother home. Their parents were disappointed, mostly in Oswin, though who was Heruthain to say his sons could bear sword and shield for their kinsmen and not enjoy some mead. Outside the house.

Oswin never made sneak of it. He drank with his friends, and with his brother, commonly taking too much, being drawn home eventually by Swithin when he became carried away. Oswin was only having sport, taking to calling his brother a stick in the mud. Swithin laughed such accusations off, always insisting that he could have just as much fun without the drink, secretly fearful that one day his own brother would take things too far as Astrid did.

It was all in fun as days went on, Swithin became easier, and Oswin never made it a daily habit, though did find many things to 'celebrate' when they were off duty. The brothers grew older, growing fond of women. The work of a scout was dangerous work, and Oswin was noncomittal with those he met; taking one here or there for fun. A couple girls in Edoras. A couple held his fancy in Aldburg. Swift on his moves, Oswin could draw the exact kind of attention he liked from the exact type of women he wanted. Swithin thought himself just as capable catching the attention of the ladies, and in many ways was. Always the competitive sort, however, Oswin found interest in the same type of women, those who were bright eyed and enjoyed a good time, reveling in laughter and humor. Perhaps he never had meant to, but it seemed anytime Swithin took eye to just the right type, Oswin came ahead and swiped them right from under his nose. While Swithin wishes his brother to have fun, he does not altogether approve of Oswin's collection of women, wishing his brother would perhaps settle down with one, though knowing he will not.

As years go on, the brothers are close, and get along well with each other, always caring for one another. Either twin would sacrifice himself for the other; the unsung agreement between them. Still, in other ways they drift. Oswin seeking further and further adventure, scouting for the Eored; yearning to explore places and seek his thrills, fighting and drawing the blood of enemies in the name of their King.

Swithin thrill seeking in another way as he considers what life there is beyond the Eored, and what troubles to be faced within the city; beginning to keep eye on the people around him the way his Pop has always done. Considering what use his sword skill could be to those who had not the privilege of an armed father. As he approaches thirty years of age, his devotion to his own Captain has not waned, though he wonders at working toward a promotion to Captaincy himself, and like his Pop finding favor in putting steel in the hand and training in the mind of the city youth, and being the son to remain in Edoras and care for his parents as they age; spending more time with his family while he still has them, and perhaps taking on his own home; sleeping in the warmth at night, and filling his house with life and merriment the way his parents did.