Deeming by his looks he appears to be in his thirties, though his actual age is only reckoned by himself.
A wanderer with no place to call home save for the woods and plains within the borders of the Northern-kingdom. He wanders the Weather Hills and the barrows of Cardolan.
A descendant of the Men of Westernesse, forever true to his oath of safeguard he wanders the Northlands. A savant; learned in many fields of study. Accomplished in the art of marksmanship, rival only by the elves perhaps, and also in such crafts as herbology, cartography and history. Perhaps not such brandish skills in contrast to archery though ever as proper for survival. Love for poetry and song, able to recede impassioned poems in elegant and high notes, both in the common speech and in the elven tongue Sindarin of which he is fluent.
In truth he is a loner that few would call a friend, though some individuals may have earned his friendship; fellow wanderers and watchers. As well as his rohirric ruffled mare which follows Luithrandir in most of his endeavors.
Servants of evil and sympatizers of the enemy. Any who would stand in the way of keeping his oath of safeguard.
The beauty of nature and everything that grows in it, as well as its inhabitants. To sing and to ride, the feel of his longbow bow and the sound as an arrow flies. His Mariners Star.
The burden of his oath and the weight of his silver star that he carries with such pride.
The oath to his Chieftan and kin. To protect the remnants and artifacts of the Northern-kingdom and his endless watch to safeguard its borders.
"We Men of Westernesse, watcher of the wilds, begrudge not our duty of endless watch and safeguard."