Heard, a Giant With an Axe

Character Name: Heard

Name Meaning: Brave, hardy.

Age: 53.

Date of Birth: May of 2957.

Race: Beorning.

Residence: Vales of Anduin, with the rest of his people.

Profession: Heard is a toll collector, and an animal caretaker. He dreams like a warrior, though, and will always be seen with his large, two-handed axe.

Appearance: Heard is as tall as his father before him standing at nine feet in height, with a great, dark beard and bushy brows that speak of his lineage. His hair is dark, in areas growing dusty though not truly grey, and his arms are like the tree trunks that fill the forest he sometimes patrols. Often is face is firm in scowl, and his stare is both unnerving and terrifying should one come to draw it in upset. They can hold the same feel as ice or stone, and are a bright blue.

He has a scar from his cheek down over his lip, and a nick of one across his nose. These are remnants of goblin-fights who thought it wise to cross him while he was taking tolls.

Unlike some of his kin, he has no bear shape. As such, along with his clothes of linen and wool, Heard is always seen with a tall, seven-foot axe that he uses in place of the claws and jaw of the bear warriors. This axe he calls Olifrung—namely, “The clawing claw”.

Personality: Heard is taciturn to most who meet him, for he has long felt like a failure in the line of greatness. He has a wife—one he thinks is the most wonderful shebear in the land—that he loves more than anything. Woe to the person who lays insult upon that woman, for Heard is quick to anger.

He has felt less-than his brother, and indeed his Beorning kin for he was the son of the great Beorn himself, though unable to master the ability of the beast within. He, like the rest of his people, can speak Westron and the language of the bear, allowing him to be a master of animals in much the way his father was. He enjoys animals, and with his wife he has no choice but to enjoy food as well.

He, like his brother Grimbeorn, hates all goblin and wolf. Unlike Grimbeorn, though, he is especially embittered to the warg of the land. He is appalled by trapping, as well.

Overall, he is a grouchy sort, more prone to grunting and growls than pleasant conversation. At his core, though, Heard is loyal, devoted, and would die for his family. Even if his father never was able to see it.



Parents: Beorn and Grimhild.

Sibling(s):

Sisters: Beranhild, 46.
            Niece: Grimwyn, 20. 
Brother: Grimbeorn

Spouse: Astrudr, "Trudie".

Children:

Ealdian, son. Deceased.
Nelda, daughter-in-law. Deceased.

Grandchildren:

Orvin, grandson. 7.
Wilona, granddaughter. 7. 

History:

Expectation was always the greatest foe Heard ever faced.

First born son to the great Beorn himself, he was set to follow in footsteps of greatness. The were-bear hero of the Battle of the Five Armies, the one who was chosen to lead the people who had always thought they were alone, the one who was the greatest of those who came to be known as Beornings: that was his line. That was his sire.

Heard does not have many memories he cares to think on from his earliest days. They sting like poison goblin arrows, and are better left undisturbed. Nonetheless, for a time he was in fact accepted as one of the Beornings, a promising continuation of the great line of Beorn himself. However, Heard remembers most vividly the months of waning pride, and the wash of love from his father's eye. The months where he was looked at in disappointment, and he knew his parents sought to replace him.

These months defined much of him, instilling a self-loathing that none around could understand. He was the only member of the clan that could not find his inner beast, and where the other outsiders of the Misty Mountain woodsmen had found solace and solidarity amongst kin of their own kind, Heard was left as an outsider to two worlds. He was neither human, nor Beorning. A failure to the chief, and a warrior without fang or claw.

The realization he was alone amongst his kind changed him, closed him off, and made the man a walking embodiment of bitterness.

Grimhild and Beorn did not rest until they had an heir.

The day his sister changed, Heard wept. Beorn looked upon her with more pride and joy and love than Heard had ever seen from the man himself. But that compared nothing to the pain he felt the day Grim, his youngest sibling, was able to take bear shape as well, and earned the name of Grimbeorn. He had never known pain like that, the sting of jealousy and the claws of a beast he could not unleash inside.

Heard, a towering and brawny fifteen, made himself a vow that day that he would not weep again, nor would he abide by his father's twisted ideas of what made a warrior. Perhaps the bear shapes were mighty for his kind, but men fought wars long before the discovery of the were-shapes using naught but their tools. It was not the bear that made the warrior, it was the heart and determination that did. So it was Heard decided to begin to pursue a different martial craft, one that his father did not truly acknowledge; for to a fierce were-bear, there was nothing worthy of note to one who had to fight with steel.

He learned the craft of ironwork, seeking to forge his own set of claws, and took to roaming the wilds to prove his worth. Orc, goblin, wolf—he hunted them all, coming back with trophies to try and show his father that he, too, was a mighty warrior. All he received though, was lecture after lecture that seeking trouble was not the way of the Beornings, and his duty was to the clan. A clan that did not end with his wounded pride. He was given the duty of toll collecting, and was told he should never leave the posting until he was relieved.

Heard was crushed, finally realizing he was never going to be more than an afterthought to the mighty Beorn. Never again would he call himself a Beorning, he decided. And the man took the bone and teeth he had collected and strung them like beads for a necklace, so that any who saw him knew he was no less dangerous for his lack of claws, and he named his axe Olifrung in mock of his father’s ideas.

During this time, Heard was becoming a man, and realizing the dream of being truly loved by his family was long past, he found himself pondering something else. There was in the village the most wonderful Shebear, a bright and beautiful young woman named Astrudr. Trudie, as she was known about the people, was the kindest and warmest of those he now simply called the Giants or the Were-bears, and made his heart long once more for acceptance. Acceptance enough that he could dream of taking such a wonderful woman for a bride, for she had ensnared him completely, and when he saw her there was not a muscle in him that did not seem to flutter like the bees that were kept by the clan. His words came out as bumbles around her, and even he, a mighty warrior in his own right, felt like a tumbling fawn in her presence.

He loved her, deeply and fully, though never dreamed she would look upon him the same. For what was he, but the failure son of the great Chieftain?

Trudie, though, had loved him, too. And so it was they were eventually married, no thanks to Heard’s shyness but very much in response to Trudie’s generous, warm, and perfect spirit. Heard finally felt a loyalty to something, and it was fierce as any bear. This was the day of his greatest vow: the one where he promised nothing would ever befall her, his most perfect Shebear, and the only one who could draw a smile from his stern face.

When she bore him a son, he was lost once more in hesitation. While his lack of bear-form had never seemed to bother his wife, he did not wish their son to grow up feeling as ostracized by his family as Heard had, and for a few years he fretted despite Trudie’s warmth and kindness.

When Ealdian took for the first time to the shape of a cub, Heard was filled with relief. He had not ruined his son. Their son. He never wished to besmear Trudie’s line. He was happy.

Grimbeorn took in Ealdian as an heir, and for a time it brought a broken family closer. Heard no longer felt as strange, for now there were more than he who were born without a wild-shift, and his brother had acknowledged, if only in passing, that Heard was himself a great and worthy man of Beorn’s line. Ealdian proved to be a warrior that surpassed either of his trainers, one that Heard was certain would lead with greatness and bring honor to the people. He took a wonderful wife, and had two beautiful children that Heard loved deeply.

But the happiness was not to stay.

In autumn of 3009, when the Beornings were diverting a large pack of wargs from the pass, Ealdian and Nelda, being the faster among them, led the wargs and orc riders on a chase down the mountainside to where the rest of the Beornings were gathered ready to decimate them. It was when Nelda's foot became caught in a snare, set of orcish design, and the wargs closing the gap between them, that Nelda shifted back to her human form to use her hands and free herself. Not moving quickly enough, the wargs descended on her thin human skin and pierced her to death. Ealdian, hearing the scream, turned and dove straight into the pack, well outnumbered and also lost his life. Upon hearing the fight the rest of the Beornings found their way to the feasting wargs and managed to kill the ones which had lingered, though many had already escaped their tooth and claws. Grimbeorn was among the patrol and had been the one to take the word back to Heard that his son, and Grimbeorn's heir, had been killed.

Heard was shattered, and roared and fought at his brother for losing the precious prize that had been his family, angered and goaded by the fact he had delivered such news with little more than somber tones. However, unable to cry for the vow he had made himself those many years ago, Heard lost all spirit of joy, and was often found staring into nothing, a hard look upon his face.

He and Trudie have taken in the grandcubs, the small lights remaining in their life, and Heard has made another vow. One that he will not lose.

No harm will come to those children, nor his wife, and he will defend them until his own last breath if the need arises.

When he is not standing and taking tolls, the only job his people seem to find him fit for, he takes Olifrung out into the wilds and hunts for snares and traps made by orc. Woe to those who stumble upon him, for his axe is ready, and he is a bear of a man with little to lose.