Eredhil

Character Name: Eredhil

Name Meaning: seed heir

Age: 16

Date of Birth: December, 2994 TA

Race: Man

Residence: Minas Tirith

Profession: gambler

Appearance: He is of average height for a Gondorian male, slender and wiry, with long, corded muscles instead of bulk. He has a mop of dark curls which are kept relatively short, compared to many men of his country. His eyes are bright blue, often with underlying dark circles under them, from too little sleep and too much manic energy. So far his beard has not really come in and he goes about with only a dark downy fuzz on upper lip and jawline. His clothing is that of a person of no sure means, and is often dirty, ragged and torn. He doesn't care very much about what he looks like. His expression is usually one of hawkish pleasure or black anger, with the two rapidly switching at small provocation.

Personality:

From his earliest days, Eredhil was quite a handful, with a willful, wayward temperament, much like his mother. Always one to look for adventure, his intelligence was probably the only thing that saved him from more dire consequences arising from his rash impulses. Seeming to bubble over with vitality and restless energy, he is very much an opportunist. His sharp wit and enterprising spirit have allowed him to line his pockets enough so that he can lead a life pretty much independent of his father. Eredhil is typically impatient, volatile and very competitive, and can be insufferably selfish at times. He was born to ignore the rules and make his own, which may quickly be tossed out too, all to suit his own needs and desires.



Parents: Glaeon, 56; Eredhel (deceased)

Sibling(s): Glaethion, 18

Spouse: n/a

Children: n/a (as far as he knows)

History:

First, to be clear, Glaeon is not actually Eredhil’s biological father. Who that man was will never be known. His mother took that secret to the grave, a few hours after the child was born. Glaeon made no attempt to include this second born into his own acknowledged family, even failing to give him a name reflective of any consanguinity. The babe’s name was simply the masculine form of the mother’s. It turned out to be a poor choice anyway, for over the years, it only serves to remind the old man of the young woman who was never truly his.

Most thought that Glaeon would never marry. He had reached his late 30s when Eredhel threw herself at him, bewitching him, he would always claim later. At the time he was besotted, that the pretty young woman was gifting him with smiles, and looks, and eventually, herself. When she announced that she was with child, only weeks after they had consummated their relationship, he was too blind, or too stupid in love to see what might have been going on. To this day, he has never once publicly questioned that the first born boy, named Glaethion, was his. Was he a willing dupe, to a young woman’s machinations to avoid scandal? Again, it’s likely that question will never be answered fully.

Suffice it to say, Eredhel was not long with her sighs and smiles and soft ways. Almost as soon as her first born came into the world, she was off. Needless to say, her wandering ways left quite an ache in the man’s heart. But he was married to her by this point and would not put her aside, even when she made little attempt to be discrete. He focused on his son, and doted upon him, and basically went back to his bachelor ways, with the exception of having a woman that flitted in and out of their lives with annoying frequency.

It was a given - to her husband, at least - that when Eredhel became pregnant a second time, it was definitely not Glaeon’s doing. The swelling of her belly put a stop to her straying, and once again, the man fell under her spell, but this time with eyes wide open. He loved her and he hated her, but for the sake of his son he would not see her giving birth in the street. She settled down to await the birth of her child, and he wondered if after it would be back to the life she had lived the past two years or so. Sadly, the birth was complicated and despite his own skills, and those of the midwife, Eredhel passed out of this world a few hours after delivering her second born son.

This child – no child of his – Glaeon named Eredhil. And he might have tried to find some other foster family for the boy, except for the attachment Glaethion already seemed to have formed for his brother – formed and bolstered by his mother’s frequent imprecations that he love his sibling to be and look after him or her, whilst placing the boy’s tiny hand on her growing belly. Grudgingly, Glaeon made the decision to raise the child as his own, and there were none – save one – with whom he ever shared the dismal secret of the child’s conception.

The boys grew up under foot at the apothecary where Glaeon had been employed for a decade or more. He saw to their education – or, tried to, when it came to the younger one – and had mild plans that they should follow in his footsteps and his trade. Glaethion was very much the typical older brother – trying hard to please his father, obedient, responsible – even to the point of playing second parent to Eredhil. Eredhil on the other hand was pretty much a nightmare. Maybe he sensed his foster father’s resentment – although Glaeon never once flung the boy’s parentage in his face, at least not on the paternal side. Glaeon did have much to say about the boys’ mother, and none of it good. When Eredhil was naughty, which was frequent, he’d always scowl and say “Aye…the apple never falls far from the tree…”

Over time, as the boys grew, Glaeon began to despair of Eredhil. The boy seemed to be possessed of some demonic spirit and lived to cause trouble. As a young child it was more mischief. But by the time he reached his teens, Eredhil was into all sorts of things a boy his age should not have been anywhere near. Drinking, dicing, staying out all hours, chasing after girls – he was like a fourteen year old going on forty! From Eredhil’s point of view, he didn’t see why he should be at home, learning his father’s trade. For one thing, it was frightfully dull and he craved excitement, always. Secondly, it seemed to him that his father would pass along whatever trade he could to his older brother, not him – even though Glaethion seemed less than enthusiastic about the apothecary trade himself. In any case, he took to staying away from the house and shop more and more, and his enterprising mind soon had him concocting various ways to support himself, all on the shadier side of the laws of the city.

Having to be on the lookout for the city guard, Eredhil learned all the skills of an escape artist and burglar. He could run, jump, climb, blend in and move with great stealth. Of course, sometimes he wasn’t successful in getting away. Because of his youth, and quick wits, though, he never got tossed into the dungeons. He was glib, and could weave a convincing tale, when pressed. He also tended to need to avoid certain men whom he had gotten the better of. That too sometimes ended in violence, so he saw the desirability of learning how to fight well, with a dagger or knife, or his bare hands. He found that he quite enjoyed the pugilistic arts, and he actually began to set up fights, with gambling involved, of course. These he would frequently participate in himself, though not always. It was a rather secretive affair, one the guard frowned upon – though some surreptitiously bet on the matches.

Now that Eredhil has reached his sixteenth year, he could be counted almost a man grown. He certainly has lead a very…mature…lifestyle. He isn’t a hardened criminal. But his entire life revolves around very shady practices and pursuits. Where he’ll end up eventually is anyone’s guess.