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Musings of the Songbird
Created on 2004-01-17 05:56:17 (#1914026), last updated 2005-04-18
25 comments received, 280 comments posted
Basic Account [Gift]
38 Journal Entries, 0 Tags, 183 Memories, 0 Virtual Gifts, 3 Userpics
Basic Info BioName: Daeron
Approximate Age: He was born nearly three decades before Luthien
Race: Avarin/Sindarin
Occupation: Minstrel/Loremaster
Biography:
Daeron was already old when the sun and moon rose. He was born near the borders of Doriath in the Age of the Trees, to an Avarin father and a Sindarin mother. In his youth he traveled to Menegroth because of his already apparent talent and ambition. He served in the court of Menegroth for centuries, becoming the greatest minstrel the Eldar had ever known, and a renowned loremaster as well.
Those were his happiest days, with the his love Luthien by his side. Sometimes he followed her wanderings into the deeper woods of Doriath, always playing for her when she danced beneath the stars, his voice echoing hers in blissful song.
He spied on Luthien and Beren when they met in the woods, and betrayed the lovers to Thingol. The wrath of the elven king drove Beren to fulfill a seemingly impossible quest: to obtain a Silmaril upon the brow of Morgoth. Together with the sacrifice of Finrod Felagund and the enchantment of Luthien the quest was completed. Daeron should know little of this though, for he had departed from this sorrowful land, and went upon his self-imposed exile, wandering in despair in search of she whom he loved. He never found her.
What he had encountered in his straying he did not tell, but some time later he came near to the Echoriath, and was eventually taken to the Hidden City itself.
~
Daeron is slighter in built compared to the Sindar of Menegroth, as well as Gondolin’s inhabitants. He appears rather plain, probably due to his dark hair and grey eyes, typical among the Sindar. Yet his skin is paler than usual, and sometimes a flicker of something else can be seen in his eyes.
He is nearly always deceptively calm, a mask he keeps on to reassure others that he possesses not an artist’s madness, though an artist’s gift. Normally he keeps away from other people, because he does not believe them capable of understanding what he can.. And truly, few did. He does not suffer fools patiently.
He wears black, in mourning of a fate that he believes only he knows; and he carries always with him a wooden flute and a small harp, both lovingly crafted by himself in Doriath when joy was still plentiful. As for weapons he owns only a small hunting knife, and even that he seldom uses, except to cut firewood during his days in the wild.
He does not like people reminding him of his past, of memories which he cannot escape from, and the world which he can perceive more acutely than others can. So he shuns all company. Yet it was not always so. Once he loved to laugh. Even now he’ll be subject to spasms of self-pity, wishing for compassion, but he no longer comes out of his shell.
He also habours a curious affection towards mint cakes.
ConnectInterests (11):
depression, forgetting, freedom, illusion, knowledge, luthien, mint cakes, music, silence, solitude, truth
External Services:
 | of_shadow_come@livejournal.com |
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