He hails from weary Gondor, where a Dark Shadow closes around Minas Tirith. A considerable scholar of ancient lore and pipe craft, Finrost wandered in the valley of Ithilien; a traveler might see him delving into dark places, conversing with rangers, or talking to beasts. When Mordor orcs crossed into Ithilien’s wilderness, Finrost drove them off the highway to Osgiliath. He inadvertently rescued a dozen refugees and led them to the outskirts of Osgiliath.

Lonfrik was young once. Saying this would surprise nobody, save maybe himself, and naturally it is true. Long have been the years since Lonfrik departed Thorin''s Hall on his coming of age, filled with plans to see all the world between the misty mountains and the blue, ideas of finding wilderness to be explored, friends to be met, deals to be struck, yet also haunted by an ancient grudge rapidly approaching a climax. Now he is old, his beard almost become grey, and his earliest days are but a dim shadow in his memory.