Duncadda makes his living as a forester, a woodcutter, and a carpenter. In the quiet rhythm of Bancross, he has fashioned a life of honest toil, far from the great halls and wide fields of the Eastfold. Among the folk of the village, his work is well regarded; as a carpenter he has earned quiet repute for crafting furniture of rare sturdiness and fine make, hewn with care and shaped by steady hands.

He also trades in the fruits of the wild: tanned hides of fox and deer, the smoked meat of boar and hart, and other such fare as the forest yields to those who know her paths. Among those few counted close to him, it is known that he brews a mead dark and heavy, strong enough to warm the bones through the bitterest winter. Yet it is never offered in trade, only shared with chosen company, and only in quiet moments.

Though he calls Bancross his home, and will not leave it lightly, he remains bound by an old oath. When the Thanes of the Mark send out the call, he answers. Not as a rider clad in glory, but as a scout, the way of most foresters in time of war. Yet even among them, Duncadda is set apart. Few can match his skill in the wild, nor the silence with which he moves through wood and vale. He often rides alone, and never has he failed in his charge. Bandits, wolves, or wandering orcs, none have slipped his pursuit.

Yet for all his presence in the land, Duncadda remains something of a mystery to most who meet him. Wherever he settles, whispers follow: that he came from the north, from the wide and wind-scoured lands of the Wold; that he left those parts for reasons unknown and made his home in the South, near Edoras. Few know the truth of it, and he gives no answer to idle questions. He is a man who has learned to let silence speak where words would not serve.