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Member No.: 11
Joined: 14-March 14
the highway signs say we're close
THIRD / HOBBIT / LOTR
❧ Smithcraft—And he's pretty good at it, if he says so himself, whether it's weapons-crafting, or jewelsmithing, he could stay locked up in his personal forge and abutting workshop for weeks if left to his own devices and be perfectly content.
❧ Traveling—While not the primary motivation behind the twins' long months spent out of the Valley each year, Elrohir loves pathfinding and riding aimlessly around in whatever direction the wind pushes him. Even if it's slightly off the paths most traveled.
❧ Stabbing orcs in the face—Arguably the only thing he likes as much as smithing, orc-killing is a time-honored pastime through which the peredhel twins display their airtight bond.
❧ Literally everything else—Which seems like an overstatement, but it's really not. Among things Elrohir really doesn't like: being touched, people breathing in his general direction, his father, Mirkwood, radishes, having to mend his own clothes, papercuts, people picking on Elladan, people picking on Lindir, shady Silvans who hit on his brother, not gutting fishes right and getting bones stuck in his teeth, long-range fighting, gleaning arrows, fletching arrows, hangovers, and having to go more than two days without a bath.
❧ Centuries of revenge-killing have made him a lethal warrior, though he doesn't have any genuine interest in fighting for the sake of it. His skill is technically perfect, which serves him against inferior creatures like orcs, but against the very best of the Eldar, his abilities just aren't comparable, like a piano player who spends ten years practicing despite a tin ear.
❧ Of the two brothers, Elrohir is the one more inclined to take the prospect of lordship over Rivendell more seriously, and he comes off as slightly more mature in a pinch, though he doesn't see himself doing anything more than roaming around until Elrond sails.
❧ He is an absolutely iron-solid friend.
❧ Emotional unavailability—Both twins display this in some measure, but Elrohir's is more obvious and about a hundred times more annoying in that he can be outright rude to people and not feel especially bad about it. Somewhat paradoxically, he gets even worse about maintaining a safe buffer of emotional space as he gets to know someone.
❧Wet blanket—It is what it is.
❧ Anger issues out the ass—He's working on it. Maybe not as quickly as he should, but it's coming along.
❧ Survive past the Third Age.
❧ Restore Estel to Gondor.
❧ He has no idea what he's going to do about the question of his immortality and it weighs on him daily.
OVERALL PERSONALITY: Elrohir does nothing in halves.
Which is to say that the way he acts on his emotions tends to be in either extreme, a trait which is more a recent development than anything else, as it is a product of his somewhat strained family dynamics. As a child, Elrohir was even-keeled and usually biddable, his adolescent bouts of mischief limited to the times he would totter into Erestor's study to take apart books to see how many pages could be bound together, or sneak out of bed at weird hours of the morning to watch the nightjars teach their chicks how to fly in the summer. Elrohir is more a fan of studying mechanics than putting them into practice, which is probably the only truly elvish thing about his personality. Dregs of that curiosity and drive to create linger in his predilection for smithing, which he would probably do constantly if he were left to his own devices. Luckily, he's not, so he divides his years between errantry with his brother in the wild, and forging weapons while he winters in Imladris.
But the Elrohir of today is sedate and not much inclined to talk unnecessarily. Necessity has forced him into close acquaintainceship with the Dúnedain who are descended from his uncle, so he feels a special affinity towards them—and for the Little Folk whose lands they quietly defend from outsiders, and while he's not entirely sure yet, he intends to shed his immortality for them one day. Valinor, he feels, is not his home, and the thought of a life lived to the very end of the universe absolutely doesn't appeal to him in the least. Even now, mundanity bores him to tears where it doesn't seem to bother his elvish kin very much, so he finds himself drawn more and more to the lands outside his childhood home, thankful that at least his brother understands the inclination enough to go out into the wild with him.
On the whole, though, Elrohir is at least polite, and a good statesman, and he'll be pleasant enough to people he has no reason to be otherwise to, but the years of strife and rage have definitely left their mark on him, and he has matured accordingly. What he lacks in passion he makes up for in a natural ability to assess things to the best of his ability, which he figures is a trait owed entirely to his mother's side of their genetics.
❧ Father—Elrond Earendilion
❧ Grandmother— Galadriel
❧ Grandfather— Celeborn
❧ Other Grandmother—Elwing
❧ Other Grandfather—Earendil
❧ Other Other Grandfather—Maglor Feanorion
❧ Other Other Other Grandfather—Maedhros Feanorion
❧ Uncle— Elros
❧ "Uncle"— Glorfindel
❧ "Uncle"— Erestor
Awkwardly courting Lindir, with debatable success.
OVERALL HISTORY: Given his own father's tumultuous upbringing, Elrohir regarded it as a small miracle that he and his brother grew up with such a relatively normal family dynamic. He did his best to make good use of the luxury when he was old enough to understand that having a home that was so expertly protected by both the ancient and legendary leader of their guard, and the power of Vilya was not quite the normal way of things, but sometimes fell a little short, as he was easily persuaded into acts of terror by his brother whenever they were left alone long enough to cause trouble in the valley. In truth, he was slightly more distant from his father than he would have liked, but Celebrían was always more than able to extend them the attention and the moral guidance he needed, so he never really wanted for much. He spent his youth learning from multiple teachers between Rivendell and the Golden Wood, and rarely left the valley if he could avoid it otherwise.
Long after he and his brother had grown to adulthood, their mother's caravan was waylaid by orcs, and though they immediately flew from the valley to go to her aid, they knew as soon as they had recovered her that there was little they could do for her. In some dark, black part of his heart, he even silently blamed his father for his inability to help her in the months following their return to Rivendell, but he never said as much, and the feeling waned to nothingness after he came home from his first campaign out into the wild with Elladan to find his father compromised by their long absence, and Arwen's subsequent departure to live with their grandmother in Lórien. Having always had close proximity to the Dúnedain, he found it easy to acclimate himself to living and traveling with them for long periods of time, and if he was ever heartsick for home, he knew the alternative of going home to grieve in Rivendell wouldn't be satisfying. For centuries, only endless campaigns to slaughter orcs in their dens with Elladan was the only thing that helped him feel anything at all.
Gradually, he learned how to get past that, too, though he's grown too accustomed to the life to ever think of returning to Rivendell to help his father manage it for any longer than he absolutely has to be there. As he grew older and learned more of the world outside their elvish enclave, which, aside from the occasional influx of Men, was fairly insular, he began to feel the pull of something unsettling in his heart, and he knew he was rapidly losing the ability to fathom an endless existence so far from the people he had grown to care about. He knew, on further examination, that there was a decent chance it was only a side-effect of having been so possessed by blind rage for so long, and that maybe he would feel better about immortality once his heart had a little bit more time to convalesce, but the Watchful Peace seems to be waning, and the shadow on the horizon gets darker every day…
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