The character I really want to play is Calára Airalassë (Redleaf, if I'm not mistaken), distant descendant of Fingolfin. I've worked out some histories with various sources and Tolkien scholars to come up with a character who has a rightful claim to Ringil, how that might factor into a campaign, and doing so without crushing everyone else in the weight of her shadow. Her story is an exploration of the hope that appears even in the darkest moments, that any wound may be healed in time. Gandalf attests to such concepts when he speaks of guiding forces that work to bring up light out of darkness:
Lára descends from Írimë, of the House of Finwë. Írimë, it is said, took to exploring the Helcaraxë, finding in glittering ice both danger and beauty. When she returned to warmer lands she wandered, finding many scattered bands of her people and immersing herself in their cultures. It was in this way that she met Díriel, son of Amras, far removed, and they fell in love. Their union was the start of healing rifts opened between the Elven peoples long ago, when Elf turned upon Elf in the Kinslaying, beginning the mending of House Finwë. They had a daughter, Yávindë, who remained in Middle-Earth even after Írimë and Díriel returned to Aman following the War of Wrath. In Yávindë bloomed the fire of Nerdanel, it seemed, for she was given to adventure, driven by a thirst for knowledge. Yávindë pursued arts most commonly practiced by men, and she was especially skilled in the use of swords.Gandalf wrote:"Behind that there was something else at work, beyond any design of the Ring-maker. I can put it no plainer than by saying that Bilbo was meant to find the Ring, and not by its maker. In which case you also were meant to have it. And that may be an encouraging thought."
Yávindë had a daughter of her own, Alyára, soft and delicate in every way that Yávindë was the opposite. Alyára was a songstress with few equals, and in her music would blossom visions of past glories, triumphs, tragedies, and echoed most keenly the Music of the Ainur. It is said of the two that they were night and day, summer and autumn, fire and soothing water. Stories sung and spoken in the halls of Rivendell tell of a fateful encounter between a band of Elves, Yávindë and Alyára among them, and several terrible Trolls. Yávindë drew her blade and would have struck down the Trolls, but Alyára was first to act. She broke into a song so bittersweet and pure that even the Trolls wept and none in either group could shed blood that night. It is said that those Trolls never again harmed a traveler, and even that Alyára would sometimes visit them when traveling to share stories. Both women traveled between Rivendell, Mirkwood, and Lothlórien, though Alyára, like her mother, preferred to spend her days in Lórien.
Alyára had a daughter, Calára (Írimë's great-great-granddaughter), in whom was reborn the adventurous spirit and insatiable curiosity of Nerdanel and Yávindë, but also the kind heart and thoughtful ways of Alyára. Her hair is red as the eaves of Autumn. In her youth she took her name from the Quenya and kept it ever after; elders still scarred by the Kinslaying might have bristled, but to many, it was simply an oddity. Unknown to Lára, however, it was a sign of things to come. Destiny calls even those too distant to hear its words, and her role in Middle-Earth is to be a healer of old wounds. The scarred house of Finwë, torn by the tragic acts of Fëanor, must be mended again.
Part of how I want to do this is in her finding Ringil and taking it up, redeeming the legacy of the Noldor and of Fingolfin himself. Thankfully, the magical items from the Rivendell book make all of this more possible. There are a few possibilities for how she might come to learn of the sword, and how it might factor into a campaign (including lots of cool opportunities for the other players):
1) The Elostirion Stone, which gazed into the West, had its sight drawn to a lonely isle in the Sea. This is Fingolfin's tomb, in the Western Isles, or more specifically Tol Fuin. Destiny, it seems, draws the attention of those who look into the Elostirion Stone, and eventually the Elves realize that something is calling them to the area where Fingolfin's cairn lies cold and undisturbed for an Age. They then might trace the rightful claim to Lára, after Elrond, who has no need of the sword, and is wise enough to recognize when a tale awaits someone meant to do great things.
Other PCs: This one is easy for other heroes. The ruins of Beleriand hold many secrets, and it may be more than Fingolfin's ghost calling to blood that drives them there. Perhaps something evil, long since slumbering in the ruins, threatens to rise and turn its hunger toward Middle-Earth. Only a group of true heroes (the PCs) can answer this call and stop this evil before it arises. Add a bunch of cool artefacts with evocative histories in the ruins and we have ourselves the basis for a whole adventure!
2) Elrond might have the sword in his collection. It may have been looted long ago, and eventually Elrond recovered it to place in his stores in Rivendell. When another heir to its legacy appears, he might be willing to provide her (and her companions) with it and other items of power, if they prove themselves as enemies of the Shadow. Great deeds ahoy!
3) Cirdan and the exiles might have seen the sword looted, and so when the group visits the Grey Havens, he could have some clue where to look. This sets the group on a long journey through adventure and danger to recover heirlooms of kingdoms lost, things that might help heal old wounds or inflict new ones on the Enemy.
I had a picture done by Magali Villeneuve altered for use here as my character. I choose a Lindsey Stirling song for her theme. Below you'll find a sample post from a game I was in (sadly short-lived) with a similar character. I'm quite proud of that post, though I'd change a few things now.
Theme: Lindsey Stirling - Ascendance
Here's the post I made before that sort of encapsulates what I love about Elves (with Keilbrun being another PC):
Keilbrun, Son of Kailte wrote:He caught himself staring again and decided it was a time to take in the wood around him. Glancing around briefly, he said, "I find that I do not want to leave this wood quite so soon."
Alara wrote:"My own ancestors felt the same desire to stay and enjoy Greenwood in the youth of the world and of our race. It is many long years now since the Dark Lord's influence has tainted this forest, and yet we find that we do not wish to abandon it. Should it come to pass that he be vanquished and his influence removed from Arda, perhaps 'Mirkwood', as many now call it, will return to its former glory. If only you could see it then, Keilbrun! You might never wish to leave!"
Keilbrun, Son of Kailte wrote:His eyes returned to her, "There is a peculiar quality that intrigues me, not the least of which are its inhabitants, especially those that seem to know so much about the place. Be careful, daughter of Liriel, I am debating asking you for a guided tour. As much as I have seen in just a handful of days, I can only imagine what years of experience has uncovered." His eyes flickered slightly, his smile broad.
Long post!Alara wrote:Alara laughed. "Mortal Man bids caution to the fey woman he asks to guide him through the shadowy eaves of Taur-nu-Fuin, who might steal him away to work some witch's spell upon him!" She laughed again, throaty laughter, as she sat back upon her hands. "Come, then, I will give you a tour, but by its end you may yet regret your request!"
After they had finished their meal and morning slowly gave way to noon, Alara took him upon the many paths that wound hither and thither through the forest, often without a consistent sense of direction, for Alara gave little heed to the passing of time and grew not weary wandering barefoot through the woods. She stopped along a particular stretch of stream in a small clearing, barely large enough to accommodate half a dozen crowded together, and dipped her hands in it. Collecting cool, clear water in her hands, Alara she leaned in and drank gladly of the fresh water. Afterward she thanked the stream in the elf-tongue. "Hannad."
As they wandered further, so too did the Sun wind its course through the sky, and afternoon broke golden upon Mirkwood. Alara flitted from path to path, hill to hill, stopping at times to place a hand against a trunk, sometimes old and towering trees, other times saplings, and she would speak to them in the Sindarin language. How had the water quenched them, she would ask, and how had the sunlight that reached through the eaves warmed them? What songs had the birds sang for them?
In a semicircular clearing, upon the north side there was a hill covered in small yellow flowers, sitting in a spot where sun reached it during the day. There Alara stopped perhaps the longest, kneeling beside the hill and smelling deeply of the flowers, speaking to them. "This is my Amon-od-Aurloth," she said. "Hill of the Dayflower. I knew the very first of these flowers to grow here, and still I recall my conversations with him many, many seasons ago. He flew here on the wings of great bees. He was so bright, his bloom was as looking upon a reflection of the Sun itself. I loved him so. 'I am alone here now,' he said to me, 'but one day my descendants will be a kingdom of gold, and the Sun will fall upon us in gratitude.' Often would I come to speak with him, and hear his pride in the kingdom that bloomed around him."
Alara then set her pack down carefully and withdrew from it a large yellow flower. "I sang to him as he passed from this life, and promised that ever would I sing to his kingdom, that they be reminded of the beautiful flower who once braved the winds of chance and solitude among the giants, that they might one day flourish." She affixed the flower to her hair, and some of the magic of the Elves, perhaps, was in it, for it had never withered, countless seasons after it fell from the stalk.
She sat upon the edge of that hill and sang, then, a sweet song that spoke to days in the light of the Sun and nights beneath Moon's silver sheen.
Golden eye in yonder sky
Look upon me and see
Reflection of thyself
From my heart, joy I give to thee
Who warms the hearts of grass, tree and Elf
Night then falls in thy stead
Stars shine and bright Moon glows
Eldarin children over silver paths tread
While I dream of when first over me you rose
Golden eye spin day upon the loom
Morning comes and in your warm embrace
Petals bloom and parts the gloom
Forest wakes upon your grace
Green things grow beneath your gaze
In silver nights and golden days
Her fingertips softly caressed the petals of the yellow flower in her hair, and those upon the hill. "Rest well, loth-od-guren, flower of my heart."
But let's hear of your heroes! As you can see, level of detail is not a problem, so if you have a backstory or a concept you want to flesh out, by all means, do it here!
