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Author Topic: [Hobbit + LotR] Ginger Dúnhere  (Read 3405 times)

Ginger Dúnhere

  • Elves
  • Wanderers
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  • Alias: Hades
  • Application: Plotter
Ginger Dúnhere
« on: January 19, 2013, 09:39:00 PM »
Ginger Elfwyn Dúnhere
 


THE BASICS:
Name: Ginger
Age: unknown for the moment
Gender: Female
Race: Elf
Birthplace: Mirkwood
Current Location: Traveling
Weapon(s): Belt of ivory handled throwing knives and a bow with four arrows, and if you would like to count her owl.

APPEARANCES:
Facial Appearance: Her eyes are a rich brow, like her long curly hair, with lighter flecks of green around the pupil. Her skin is light and flawless like the rest of her kin. Overall is what makes up her race; beautiful and graceful.
Build: First impressions never surprise her. She is slim and athletic looking, her hard features are only softened by her apparel. Looking past her athletic build, she can be swift and quite on her feet when she wants to be so keep an ear or two out.
Distinguishing Marks: a long cut on her left hand (from learning knife throwing) and her most recent would be long gash from her wrist to her elbow (acquired from a freak reaction by Dénor)
Face Claim: Mandy Moore

A LITTLE MORE IN-DEPTH:
Personality:
Brave, a desire for life; after she gets past her shaky nerves, Ginger is brave. Maybe not the bravery you hear about in legends, but brave in her own way. If you want to call it commendable, or if you want to call it a foolish act that is all up to you. Faced in a life or death situation she can handle herself fairly well, though! Don’t misjudge her, she may not be known for her bravery but she isn’t afraid to rise to the task of staying alive.

Scatter brained, or is it something else? She doesn’t really understand it herself, Ooo pretty bird! Her mind can go in five million directions at once! From what she ate that morning, to what she’ll have for dinner, to – Oh look at that! She doesn’t forget things. In fact she has a great memory! Trying to engage her in a serious conversation, however, is a task for those who are determined. She doesn’t like to talk about serious things unless she brings them up herself. When that happens she can be the most annoying persistent, repetitive creature you’ll possibly ever meet in your life!

Confident/offended; Confidence is something Ginger struggles lightly with. She is confident in most everything she does, from hunting to knife throwing, to fighting. She is even confident of her sense of direction! As said before, she has a great memory. But if you start of question her, she will take offense. She doesn’t do anything about it, but you can generally tell when she’s annoyed or agitated with you. Ginger isn’t beyond becoming passive aggressive when offended.

Friends; These she doesn’t make easily. If she did she would have plenty of friends! When you first meet her she has a shy nature. She doesn’t talk much and she isn’t very trusting until she gets to know you better. Once you get past this awkward stage she will open up just a bit so that you can see just what she is really is like. The rest is up to you.

Singing; Like the rest of her race, she has a beautiful singing voice! Though this isn’t accessed as much as some would probably like, and she doesn’t like to sing with many people listening. Her song bank isn’t very wide to begin with, a sad thing really. She isn’t beyond learning a new song, however! No matter the language.

History: Although she doesn’t remember it, due to a terrible accident, Ginger (or Aerlinniel, her Elvin name, means Melody) lived a fairly normal Elvin life. She was born in Mirkwood in the year _unknown_, in the season of the fading [quellë or firith, in elvish]. The first three decades of her life were spent learning the elvish ways and dressing accordingly. However, whenever Ginger got the chance to go outside the walls of her parents’ household, she took every advantage to prove that she could handle just about anything that could be thrown her way. She didn’t like being told that she was too young and should be more lady-like. She and her friends - mostly boys and a few girls - went into the dark woods frequently. Climbing trees and sometimes, if they were in the right spot, they would be lucky enough to watch a hunt! The one thing that Ginger couldn’t stand, however, were the spiders! Mirkwood seemed to be filled with spiders. Often she would hear tales of her kin being dragged off from a hunt to be eaten by them! This terrified her more than anything, and her friends knew it. As pranks, and to be just plain mean, she would take up dares to go deep into the forest. Afraid to show her own weakness, late one night she actually did venture out into the darkness. It was the last mistake she would ever make.

It was a dark night; three of Ginger’s closest friends decided to spend a night in the woods to see what dangers they might endure, but secretly to see if the tales of the spiders were true. It had been Ginger’s turn to go out into the forest. She grabbed her things, a small dagger she had taken from her father and a cloak that belonged to her mother which she wrapped it around her shoulders, and proceeded to venture into the woods. Her eyes searched the darkness, her ears listening to the deafening quiet. Every now and again, a twig would snap, and so would her nerves. She clutched her father’s dagger and held it out as far as comfort would let her. Trembling, she would go on when nothing would happen. Eventually she began to get the idea that she was being followed by either something or someone! The twigs that snapped began to snap more frequently than she would’ve liked. When she looked down to see if it was her that was stepping on the twigs, there was an eerie moment of silence. Then, all at once she was being grabbed by the arms, and wrestled her down to her knees, a piece of cloth was shoved in her mouth to keep her from screaming for help. “This one will work.” A gruff, commanding voice said in the tongue of men from the west. “I still think this is a bad idea, Belegorn. Kidnapping can get you into trouble in these woods!” Belegorn - or whatever his name was – growled, “Quiet, Biarn, or you will get us into trouble.” The next thing she knew was the darkness closing in as a cloth went over her eyes. Panicked, she fell into a faint.

When she woke, she found herself tied to a chair. Her ears picked up the sound of laughter and applause. What have I gotten myself into? She thought. Her eyes darted around her surroundings, taking in every bit of color that she could see. The next thing her mind registered was that the cloth that had been in her mouth was gone, but she didn’t dare speak. Where am I? “Oh good, you’re awake. Took you long enough,” someone said in her own language. Excited about this, she didn’t care that the speaker had a deep voice that wasn’t Elvish. She turned her head to see who had spoken. To her utter and complete shock, it was a Dwarf that spoke to her smoking a long pipe. “Now, you’re probably wondering what you’re doing here.” His voice was no longer speaking in Elvish which made it a little hard for her to understand (obviously the dwarf didn’t know much by way of Elvish), “Well, I have taken you under my wing and you will learn the art of Knife throwing and Falconry. When you’re good enough you will earn your living with us. Until that time, you will do everything that you are told, and you will obey the orders given to you. You may call me Biarn, and I shall call you Ginger.” The dwarf smiled.

To keep a long story short, their ‘master and apprentice’ sessions weren’t the friendliest. She refused to learn anything from the travelers. Biarn, not known for his patience with beginners, would give her nightly lectures. Eventually Ginger came around and took to knife throwing, using her keen eyesight to hit the marks Biarn set up for her. Falconry, though, she found to be an exciting sport. She loved birds, and watching them fly had been her favorite pastime with her friends. Biarn saw this, and decided to work with it. In a few years, Ginger was earning a living off of what Biarn had taught her. Also over the course of these years, she learned the speech of men, and to speak it well.

Now, to move on to the part that you all have been waiting for: How Ginger lost her memory! In short, she got into a fight with Biarn and as a punishment she was to sleep at the back of the wagon train. The sky had been overcast all day and the smell of oncoming rain was stifling. By nightfall it was starting to rain lightly. The road they were taking led straight through a small village in Rohan. The road was bumpy and full of holes. By the jolting of the wagon, Ginger fell off, hitting her head on a rock, knocking her unconscious. The only thing that had fallen with her was her blankets and the box that held her knives in the pillow case.

When she woke the next morning she had no idea where she was, what she was doing there, or how she had even gotten there! All she knew was that her name was Ginger and that she was cold and hungry. For days she wandered around like this. Her pillow, box of knives, and a blanket were all that she knew were hers. Finally, she collapsed on the porch of a home in a village. The couple that lived there, to say the least, was surprised to find an elf on their front porch. Pity overtook them, and eventually, she knew them to be Éogar, and Léofwyn, and that they always seemed to be there for her. She quickly learned their language, and begged Éogar to teach her how to use the knives she had brought with her. Éogar, an old man, was one of the best swordsmen around for a few leagues! She never regained her memory of knowing how to throw knives; she just assumed that it had come naturally, as for falconry, Léofwyn was a caretaker of birds, and Ginger took to Falconry like it was second nature. She now has a loyal Eagle Owl (whom she named Dénor, meaning Brave) as a companion. Unfortunately, as a side effect of her memory loss, she has strange dreams, and nightmares of people, and places she could swear she had never seen before.

Ginger is now out on her own, a whole new person, different from other elves – seeing as she doesn’t even remember how to speak her own language, or even knows if she was actually born in an Elvin realm. She does know that the elves are leaving Middle-Earth, and is aware of the growing darkness.


Roleplay Sample:
Quote:
Larkstar hadn’t expected to hear a great big reply, just a simple because would have worked! But the old mottled brown tom listened to the young kit patiently, the way she acted and the way she spoke told him she was spooked about something. No matter how hard anyone tried no one could get what this kit had seen heard or been told. None of the clan would possibly ever know what had happened at his place, and if he kit wasn’t willing to speak then he wasn’t going to force her to. All in good time… all in good time. He had told himself hopeful that perhaps one day – maybe he was in StarClan, she would make a clean breast of everything as long as the clan knew someday. But for now, only StarClan knew what had gone on that day. It was a wonder the she-kit hadn’t been killed along with her mother. He added, glancing over the kit. She seemed to be alright, the look of surprise was enough to tell him that she had not expected to see much of anyone. From her explanation in the beginning, Larkstar made a mental note for all patrols to keep an eye out for Brook-kit when they headed out, or at least he would tell Squirrelpelt to mention it.

“Then I saw this spot and started remembering again,” The kit was trembling as she spoke, as if the memories were still too much for her to bare, “I didn’t realize I had been out here so long. I really just meant to come back after going a little way. I didn’t know everything would start coming back again. I really tried to get the memories to stop, but they won’t. They keep coming back and I just can’t take it anymore! Brackenkit already acts like I’m easy to break and he tries to force food down me, but is it so hard to believe I don’t like to eat? It’s pointless, no one really wants me anyway, and I’m just the kit that everyone puts up with because they have to. Brackenkit will be fine in the clan, he’s hasn’t seen what I have! No one knows what it’s like!” Her sudden exclamation of everything nearly took Larkstar by surprise. This kit should feel a tad bit proud, Larkstar wasn’t a very easy cat to surprise… not unless he did it to himself. Willowstream!Larkstar’s own memory tried taking over his mind and vision. The flashes of her beautiful silver/blue fur stained with blood caused by his own claws. The she-cat he loved from RiverClan had died by his claws and no one knew! No one knew the horror he had felt; he had never mentioned it to anyone. Yet he had nightmares over and over again!

As the kit finished what she had, he looked at her pondering her for a moment. Then it was true, there was a kit that refused to eat anything. Did this kit really think that she was so worthless, worthless enough to die of starvation? She looked rather skinny, it also didn’t help that it was leaf-bare in the forest, making it hard for everyone to get something to eat. Pity came welling up into his heart and nearly over flowing. How couldn’t she see that the clan loved and cared for her life? That one day she may be part of something great! All of this came rushing through his mind as a cold breeze also came rushing through the trees ruffling his long pelt. Larkstar’s green eyes met the kit’s yellow/green ones. Tilting his head to one side ever so slightly, he allowed sympathy show in his eyes. He had no clue what to say, so they just sat in silence for a little while, listening to the wind howl through the branches.

Larkstar had never had kits of his own. There were times when he wished that he had, but who would want to be a mate to a tom who’s family that as they got older went a mentally insane? No, he may not have known what the kit had seen, but he did understand the feeling of not being wanted. No one had wanted him to be leader, or so he believed. But, he didn’t know how to tell it to the kit before him without sounding ridiculous. He was, after all, her leader and always will be known as her leader as long as he lived, then Squirrelpelt would be her leader. Perhaps he should say nothing at all, but he didn’t like that the kit felt as if she were unimportant. “Brook-kit,” He mewed gently, “No one knows what you have witnessed. Only you know, it is up to you whither you keep it to yourself or share it with whom you trust.” Alright, Larkstar keep your head and keep it simple enough for the kit to understand, whither she rejects it or not. It was really none of his business, but at the same time it was his business how else was he supposed to help the kit? “All in your own time will you come to reason with what you have witnessed. But you must first come to understand it to reason with it.” His own experience with his lost love Willowstream wasn’t enough to get the kit past her feelings, but he had managed to come to grips with the memory, to weep and to keep his wits about him when serving his clan. “There are several things that I have seen and been through, you are not alone. ThunderClan is filled with cats who have regrets, horrible pasts, and they are some of our greatest warriors! Their past is what made them who they are. They chose to fight for the ones they cared about most. They may never be able to re-write the wrong they have done or seen, but they choose not to let it happen again.” As he spoke his voice grew distant as he remembered Falconstrike, never again would he let a cat like that back into the clan! “Brook-kit, you have a whole clan that loves you and wishes the best for you though they do not understand. But you have to decide for yourself if you will let your past dictate who you are.” Sure, he had become only a shallow image of his father and grand-father, but the large fluffy tom understood that, he had tried so hard to not become like his father it became an obsession very quickly, unfortunately the whole Clan had high hopes for him to be more like his mother. “You are beautiful and you will make a beautiful warrior one day if will allow yourself. You know that a kit is not allowed too far out of camp, so it is my duty to return you to the camp. As for your eating habits I believe there is nothing that can be done about that. If you wish to starve you will disappoint many warriors who look to have an apprentice to train, but again it is up to you. I encourage you to think of more than yourself worth and what you think that worth is to others and to consider your worth to the Clan.” Leaning forward he rasped his tongue between the she-kit’s ears affectionately for a second before drawing back. Hopefully the kit would re-think about what other cats thought of her. He wasn’t wise, he didn’t feel like his words meant anything, yet he w as sure of one thing and one thing only: that he meant them. Every single word he meant from the bottom of his being! If the kit chose to look at it with scorn that was her choice, he meant no harm he had made no threats in what he had said and he had made no threatening move such as to say ‘If you don’t start eating right away I’ll rake the pelt right off your back!!’

Standing he motioned to Brook-kit to follow him back to the camp. The thought of taking the kit out to explore the inside territory and not the borders passed through his mind more than once as he was speaking, perhaps he would do it every now and then. Another thing Larkstar was sure of, he would make more visits to the nursery to check on her. Going over to the spot where he had buried the squirrel he had caught he looked back to see if the kit was following behind before setting off to he camp.



BEHIND THE SCREEN:
Alias: Hades
Codeword:
Experience: 5/6 years of roleplaying.
How you found us?: Officially, Google. Officially, an ad or Proboards Support.
Other Characters: none
How should we contact you?: I own one site (Point of Defiance, proboards) detectivedent (YIM) Hadesthe1st (AIM)
« Last Edit: March 13, 2016, 05:50:34 PM by Ginger Dúnhere »

played by: Hades speech color: B3C963 siggy made by: Pip!

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