Annaiel was born to Edenaur and Thalabrennil, upon an autumn day within the third age, year 2994. The Arnorian's blessed with a daughter smiled upon the day she was born and gave the name meaning, "Gift". For within that small infant was all their dreams of the future. Edenaur, ranger of the North and son to Edefielyn, sired no son and would not. To his daughter he taught the world of the wilds and the paths of the Arnorians. To her he gave the strength and will to fight the shadows of their world.
Growth and time would form Annaiel into a strong young woman, curious and bold, both quiet and solemn. She had her mother's eyes and father's height, long legs that could carry her swift like the woodland doe. It was to the days of learning to tread lightly and honing her senses within the wood that brought a smile to her face, reveling in the free wind and open sky. Such natural beauty was never lost on her.
Soft slender hands were taught the feel of a bow and the weight of a sword. Nothing more than idle want for his daughter to have knowledge did Edenaur depart such teachings to her. With a guiding hand, she could eventually shoot well enough to fell her own game and wield a blade with enough flare to make an orc think twice about its prospective quarry. But none of these could be accomplished without the precision of the tracking of a ranger, and this also, he showed his daughter.
As every child will, she excelled at some things and faltered with others. Keen were her senses but to her the arts of tracking came with some trouble. Despite that, her stubborn and determined nature gave her the ability to persevere. With the teachings her father provided her, she learned to recognize signs of the wildlife and plants, finding food sources and being able to tell direction by both star and animal tracks.
And again with time, her skills grew sharper and more atuned to the world around her. Yet Edenaur would shield his daughter, as he had his wife, using those same skills he had taught his flesh and blood to hunt and kill those that would threaten the light that remained of their home. Annaiel longed no more for the trials the rangers faced then she did to leave the hearth of her home.
It would not be long past her twenty eighth nameday that she could claim she fell in love. Alagos was quiet in nature but with good humor and a smile that melted her heart. Returning with her father one day, he met the daughter of Edenaur and warmed to her light hearted laughter and curious gaze. When he did visit, Annaiel and he spoke of the changing nature of the forest life and the different happenings of the Middle men. Many times he would visit their family, always in the presence of friends or by invitation. Till one day he came without bidding and spoke to Edenaur. It was then thereafter Alagos came to call upon Annaiel herself, spending his free time walking with her and sharing in her company. Promised was her hand and in this she found joy, because she could think of no better man to share her life with.
After three long years of sparse courtship and nights speaking together, the two were wed. Now in her thirty first year, near her thirty second, Annaiel left her home to create a hearth of her own. As any who are wed to the rangers of the north, the daughter of Edenaur knew the risks her beloved walked. But each day she would wait to receive him, sometimes he would come sometimes he would be delayed, but never did her heart waver in the hope and knowledge he would return when he could.
Five years after their union, Annaiel was found with child. It was a time of joy and glowing happiness for the two young Arnorians. And as each day passed, fading slowly into months, Annaiel's middle grew. It was in moments alone with Alagos, sitting in silence, and dreaming of their yet unborn child and the home it would find, that she truly found peace.
Eight months and Edenaur's daughter was large of stomach and betimes hungry for outlandish things. Alagos would tend to her when he could, pushing off some duties and staying at home more oft than not. Ill will befell Alagos during an outting to retrieve one of his wife's odd requests. Coming across a travelling merchant, the ranger stepped forth to barter, perhaps hoping to find the brie that his wife had asked for. Startled and not trusting of such menfolk as the hermit like northman, they fired upon him, their guards wishing to keep themselves and their charge safe. Alagos, surprised and wishing not to harm an innocent was cut down by several arrow shafts, falling from the waking earth to eternal sleep by the hands of like minded men. His death, the shattering blow to her only world, Annaiel fell into deep mourning, and would have wasted if not for the call of her unborn child.
Struggling with grief, Edenaur and Thalabrennil welcomed their daughter back to their family's hearth to watch and tend her. She would spend long hours, staring out into the open world, hand gliding over her middle as she hummed a song. Thalabrennil did what she could for her daughter, nourishing her when she would not eat, reminding her of her babe's life still held within the womb. It was a slightly unfinished token, wrought by the hand of her now dead beloved, that gave her the strength and will to carry on. She had been his sparrow and he her hawk, often speaking such dear names when alone. Upon this item, a necklace she found, was a carved hawk, sparrow, and finally dove. She would weep to think he had carved the last for their child he had never seen. Putting it about her neck, Annaiel willed herself through the deep shadows of her mourning.
The child would come later than expected, born upon a cool spring morn within the house of her parents. A boy was born, the shared eyes of his mother but the mop of tight curls already adorning his head he had shared with his father. To him she gave the name Tithenmil, little love. For now the mother had something to live for, her son, who carried a part of her closest companion's soul. Now thirty and eight years, the daughter of Edenaur took the babe in arm, raising him with all due love and care. Soon she returned home, lighting the cold hearth and sleeping once more in the empty bed that once was shared by two. Heavy did it weigh on her heart to live within the home of her broken family, but it was Tithenmil that made it whole for her again.
The child grew with great health and mirth, a smiling boy full of laughter and curiousity much like his mother. But as the small face would take shape, small definitions of a Alagos's countenance would reappear and it was these realizations she cherished most. Her world was wound about the child before her, once more creating that link to a love lost and sealing away her grief.
She taught him many things, her little love. As her father before her had introduced her to the beauties and skills of the wild, she in turn taught her son. Tithenmil took to them like water to the earth. Edenaur came as the boy grew, defining his skills; a man he would be one day and he must be able to protect his mother.
Where darkness falls, ever are their heartaches and pains, death and hatred. Fate would take what was left of Annaiel's joy, the last beacon of light that was her's. The six year old Tithenmil bore a curiousity far greater than his mother's. But such interests befell the boy. Sent out to gather a few of the last ripening berries of fall to share for his mother's nameday, the boy grew excited upon recognizing the print of a stag. Veering from the safe area his mother had deemed okay for him to tread alone, he, in his small stature was able to bob and weave amongst the thickening undergrowth upon the stag's trail. His path would bring him to a small stream, quite a distance off and that, the ranger's say is where it ended. There was an area of interest, perhaps bespoken of a struggle but what other clues could be given were washing away by the water's touch. No blood, no body, no piece of clothing could be found to aid the search, and once again, Annaiel's world fell before her.
Days would she spend searching the area her son had last left his mark. To outlying area's she would go, till Edenaur counseled his daughter to let the rangers do what they did and to keep herself safe. She heeded his words only to be left at home, becoming ill of heart and unsettled with waiting. It was almost a week gone by when she approached them, pleaded and begged as only a mother could. Her life was with that child, her everything. She asked to be trained further, to take what skills she had and add to them and be allowed to ride with the men so she could search the lands in company. She vowed before them not to rest till her son was found, for there was no evidence of his death.
Description:
Ebon brows arch over almond shaped eyes of shimmering cobalt grey. A gently sculpted chin lifts into defined cheekbones that frame the starry gaze. Alabaster skin gleams beneath the crown of midnight locks that fall like rolling waves to the mid of her back. A long slender neck rests beneath the graceful line of her jaw, full mauve lips set to a stoic line that echoes the calm quiet in her eyes, a well tended sadness within them. Tall, near on an even six feet; true does she stand, lithe as the aspen and strong as the oak.
About the slender curving frame rests a worn and repaired brown shirt, the arms gathered and trapped at the wrists by deep brown leather bracers decorated with a swirling three ringed knot. Each digit fraying and the state of the leather being almost shined down to a smooth surface. A leather jerkin of the same make is fitted to her, parted along the sides to lace up and allow freer movement of her person, flaring at her hips. Each piece of clothing constructed with care and meaning to be worn to the end of days, colors to match the earthen hues about her. Her legs are not left without covering, the toughened doeskin made to wend its way about her long legs, fastening tight and disappearing within calf high boots. Even here the leather has been worked to accomodate silence, adding to the fleet of foot and stealth. Over all of this resides a tabard of deepest green, near midnight, this article of clothing seems to be tended more to then the rest, an embroidered wreath over the area of her heart.
She is not to be found without bow or blade, the latter of which is strapped at her left side. The pommel is well worn, rewrapped with leather. The sheath, repaired as well, houses the length of the well tended blade, Badhron. The bow, however, is relatively new and still has the sheen of fresh yew wood. Strapped to her back, Deluross waits ready as it's sister arrows are kept close, held in place against the cloak.
A single strand of wood beads winds about her neck, three larger in the middle that are carved to resemble birds in flight. One a hawk, another a sparrow, and the last a dove. She wears a feather of each bird within her hair, behind her right ear, flowing downward with the path of her tresses.
