Celebrolas is a Nandorin Elf from Thranduil’s forest kingdom in the former Eryn Galen, Greenwood the Great. He was born not long before the Necromancer began the spread of his taint which caused the mighty forest to be called by another name - Mirkwood.

He was conceived at night under a full moon and given his name in honor of the great silver tree Telperion which his parents, like many elves, loved dearly. Later, he also learned his father had presented as a wedding vow to his mother a leaf saved from the White Tree of Minis Ithil before Sauron drove out the Numenorean refugees and claimed it as his own.

Though they dared not guess the full extent of the growing evil at Amon Lanc before he was given to them, his parents felt the beginnings of the presence of the Necromancer. As he grew into a man the dark presence of the Necromancer also grew and by the turn of Celebrolas’ first century among the verdant hills of Greenwood the Great, the befouled Mirkwood it had come to be called and he was forced along with the rest of his kind from their home in the Dark Mountains. The Woodland Realm was now a shattered remnant of what it was when Thranduil’s father Oropher ruled it.

Though the Elves of Emyn Duir followed their new king Thranduil across the Forest River, Celebrolas’ heart stayed forever among Emyn Duir, the Dark Mountains. Being both young and impetuous, full of love for the tree-covered hills and anger at the Enemy who delighted in corrupting them, Celebrolas resolved to forgo marriage and the society of Thranduil’s kingdom to stay behind and combat the fell beasts that now roamed those hills, renamed Emyn-nu-Fuin, the Mountains of Mirkwood.

He spent many years after enjoying little of the company of his fellow Teleri, though he grew strong and self-sufficient. He battled the Necromancer’s corruption where he was able, but for all the elves of Mirkwood it was a daunting task - for a single elf young enough to not even remember the ghastly Battle of Dagorlad it was impossible.

Though he journeyed north to the Thranduil’s Hall on occasion to visit his kin, and even to visit the burgeoning domains of Mannish Dale and Dwarven Erebor, he could not bear to be away from Emyn-nu-Fuin for long.

During his long life among the dusky clefts and moss-covered waterfalls fighting the constant menace of spiders, worgs and the occasional goblin, he came to be interested in the hardy woodsmen who settled along the western edge of the forest usually near the Old Road of the Dwarves. They were a crude people, but generous and while they were slow to offer their trust, once it was earned it was stoutly honored.

During this time he assisted them using his lore in the preparation of wood and ore. He was able to provide them with materials needed to fashion the tools and weapons that to them meant life or death. He also became aware of certain “special” men amongst them that could change their shape into that of a bear. While these men were rare and even more protective of their solitude then he, Celebrolas still attempted to assist them with the mutual struggle against the Necromancer’s fell beasts when he was able.

It was during this time his parents had resolved to pass west beyond Middle Earth into the Undying Lands of the Varda. Over the years, they had come to respect his decision to remain among the bough-encrusted hills of their home, but they could not help but view it as yet another loss of the White Trees they so loved and admired. He learned this during the journey and while it filled him with a sadness, he knew that even as a White Tree still bloomed in another city of the Mannish Exiles, Minas Tirith, so he would continue to bloom as an enemy of the shadow of evil that would envelope all of Middle Earth.

He retired to the village of Edellion during this time to study and meditate, but his reveries were cut short by the Dourhand invasion. When the decision was made to abandon Edhellion, Celebrolas resolved to return to Mirkwood to fight the evil corrupting his home - the same evil he had witnessed in Ered Luin that would seek to corrupt all of Eriador along with it.

It was not long before returned to his life of outfitting the Woodsman and fighting worgs that he had a chance meeting with the Brown Wizard, Radagast. From him he learned of the White Council and their belief that the Necromancer was indeed the dark servant of Morgoth Suaron reborn anew. After this Celebrolas wandered further south in the forest and began a watchful vigil of his people’s ancestral home at Amon Lanc. It was here that he met Gandalf the Gray Wizard who had come to spy Dol Guldur for himself - little did Celebrolas realize the chain of events that was about to unfold when the wizard was put away in those dark dungeons the Necromancer had carved into the hill.

It was also during this chance meeting that Celebrolas would met what some might be able to consider his true love - pipeweed. As they spoke about Dol Guldur, Gandalf was breathing smoke from a strange vessel he called a pipe. Spurred by Celebrolas’ curiosity he lent a bit to the Elf who immediately was charmed by the fusion of the plants and minerals of Arda’s bounty which he harvested so lovingly.

He remained a sentinel on the outskirts of Dol Guldur for a while longer until the White Council, led by Gandalf’s discovery of Sauron, forced the Necromancer from Dol Guldur. While he knew the taint on the forest was not yet vanquished, he felt that a time of relative peace was on the land and it was once more time to venture beyond the Misty Mountains. Gandalf urged him to lend aid to the people of Eriador now that Sauron in his guise as the Necromancer was retreated to some far corner. The news from his kin of the unimaginably successful Battle of Erebor convinced him to aid Eriador and he set out to lend his aid to the last remnants of the Numenoreans, who those days called themselves “Rangers.”

I have to admit, I’m really not all that big on RP. It’s not that I don’t like it and really do appreciate that other people do it, it’s just that I personally find it difficult. I suppose that is also why I have never desired to be an actor.

I do find it rather easy to engage in RP-like activities like using basic emotes and making immersive comments in /say, but I just can’t get into elaborate chat melodramas. I like to read them sometimes, but I always get a queer feeling when I attempt to participate.

Oh well, to each their own. I am definitely into immersion, however, so I do enjoy the company of other players who could be considered RP-heavy even if I don’t fully participate. And in the RP spirit I often like to come up with  good back-stories for my characters.

I’m working out three right now for the characters I am currently playing on Landroval: Fortuente, Skarloey and Celebrolas. In this post I am going to go into the back story for Fortuente, the badass viking dude.

Fortuente is a Man Champion from the outlying farms near Esgaroth in the Dale-lands. He always dreamed of striking it rich like the wealthy traders in Esgaroth and Dale. However, as a lowly farmhand he didn’t have much a future ahead of him.

Things have been getting a little crazy lately. Goblin raids have become more frequent, strange shapes are seen flitting about the countryside … even the Elven traders from Mirkwood, normally stoic even in the midst of revelry, whisper nervously of dark forces.

It wasn’t whispers of dark forces that concerned Fortuente, however. It was the whispers of the new font of trading riches - pipeweed. Fortuente learned of a recruiter for a rich southern man named “Sharkey” who was looking to set up a trading network to a strange land called “the Shire.”

Though they seemed a rather unsavory lot, Fortuente joined and set out for the southern land of Isengard with them. The journey was uneventful, and more recruits were picked up along the way into Rohan.

When the now rather large band of men reached the tower of Isengard he began to have serious doubts about his desire to be involve with Sharkey. There was a strange hush over the town and many buildings were deserted. The local people lived in a seemingly stupified awe of the shadow of the looming tower above.

He was given training assignments where he was taught the basics of armed combat - something he as a hardy Northman was no stranger to. But he began seeing fell beasts walking the lands openly in the daylight and there were strange rumblings and noxious emissions coming from cracks in the very ground around the tower. Something seemed terribly amiss with the land itself.

Alas, rugged Fortuente was also a fool. It was not until more than a full month had passed until he finally had the grim realization he was being trained as a foot soldier in an army to conquer this strange land of the halflings, not to build a trading route as he had thought.

Escape from Isengard seemed hopeless, so he kept his feelings to himself and waited until surely he would be given orders and leave the city and the watchful gaze of the tower rising over it.

That is exactly what happened. He and several other of Sharkey’s men were sent to infiltrate the Shire through the time-haunted land of Evendim and organize the local bandits into effective fighting forces.

He had heard of Evendim spoken by a sage who had cheated death there in his youth, or so he said. It was the same sage who had entertained him as boy with tales of the mysterious Dunedain, the rangers of Eriador.

He decided that he would travel with the rest of the men until just before their destination - the strangely-named settlement “Oatbarton” - then desert the group and seek out these Rangers, either to join them or die in the attempt.

However fate had other plans for him. Sharkey’s band of ruffians was waylaid on the Great East Road by a force of goblins. While the goblins didn’t prove to be much a match for the well-armed and trained bandits, Fortuente was able to easily slip away in the chaos of battle.

The road ahead was perilous and fraught with danger, but fortune smiled upon him when Fortuente met a man named Simon Pruner at the Forsaken Inn. A trader on his way back from Nain Enidh, Simon had just lost his bodyguard to an orc’s arrow. He had an extra horse and was in need of a strong and honest sword arm - Fortuente immediately sprung at the chance and they set off in haste, Simon wanting to safely bank his bulging coin-purse and Fortuente wanting to stay as far ahead of his deserted gang as possible.

On their way to Simon’s home Archet, they were met by a pair of halflings …

And the rest is in the game. I suppose I’ll write more about it later. Maybe flesh it out a bit. Any suggestions?

Hi, I’m Fortuente. As in for-twun-tee. A bit about me:

I mainly play on the Landroval server where I have several characters, none of which have reached level 50. This is an interesting fact considering my highest level (currently) 39 was created on launch day. I am - what would a good phrase be? I do gray quests - I’ll put it like that. Tragically casual.

I also am a connoisseur of Old Toby, which goes quite well in a chilled bong (like you couldn’t have figured that out from my assumed name). I have been an off-again-on-again admirer of Tolkein’s writings since I was knee-high to the suckling teet (did that even make sense?). I like the BBC Radio dramatization of LOTR the best because I <3 the actors’ awesome thespian voices.

My favorite neglected character (only appears in original book version) is Tom Bombadil. Having him and in-game smoking were the two biggest factors in the inculcation of the soft warm glow of LOTRO fanboism upon my impressionable old mind. Turbine commands, and verily, I doth obey.

This is my first post which I have gone back and edited. I hope you like it, because if you don’t I might be inclined to emote you to death in game. /me stabs your chest with his finger. HUZZAH!