Galtharian Crownlight 'Gal'

Name Galtharian
Innkeeper at The Hammer and The Harp inn, a certain dwarf's remembrancer or just a skald in training - no one is quite certain. Now perhaps, the only one of the Windswept that may carry the founder's wison.
Young, having reached maturity only recently
Bree, a humble yet welcoming home not far from the Hammer and the Harp inn, that is often also thought of as his home
Outward Appearance

Galtharian stands quite short for one of his kind. Thin wrists escape the sleeves of his robe and end in gentle fingertips, showing no scars of battle, except clear marks left by what seems like endless hours in practicing instruments.


A fiddle stands always secured on his back, the fiddle bow resting on his hip, securely strapped onto his belt. He moves as it the fiddle and bow have become a part of his body, rarely setting it down even when sitting down in his own inn. This has caused an odd habit as he seems to have adjusted to sitting in an awkward leaning-forward position, giving any that sit in front of him the impression he is a tad too interested in the conversation.


If seen in Bree, he is dressed in robes displaying the colours of spring flowers. His hair, the colour of tempered tree bark and decorated by a crown of freshly picked wildflowers, falls freely upon his shoulders. 


If he is found outside of Bree, he can be seen wearing a weathered mud-coloured robe, shoulders wrapped in a faded olive fabric that falls freely as a cape. Seams show where the fabrics were patched and sawn over numerous times. In fact, if one is to spot him sharing a drink with his companions after an adventure, he can be seen lovingly fixing any new tears in the fabric and smiling all the while.


If alone, he often wanders the streets of Bree with a look of confusion, mouth slightly agape, his bright blue eyes darting around him, not in fear but in curiosity, as if he is observing his surroundings for the first time. If in company, he can be seen grinning and walking with a cheerful gait, paying little mind to that which surrounds him.


His voice is often quiet and gentle as he speaks, though he has a tendency to burst into loud, melodic laughter when around those he considers his closest friends. He does not seem to care about appearing graceful or elegant at all, blithe or sparing not the time to dwell on how he is seen.


---------------------------- After the Lone-Lands ----------------------------


Still, there is something odd that seems to have transpired to have altered the usual appearance, and very recently it seems. For, if one is able to spot him practicing the fiddle in secret, in that sole moment of vulnerability, his face twists in pain and he does not seem to be able to continue for long intervals, often setting the fiddle down and gripping his fiddle arm, murmuring curses.


-------------------------------- After Angmar --------------------------------


Galtharian is no longer seen upon the streets of Bree or in its taverns. It is known to those that have seen him, in his dwelling or his inn, that he is grieving. The flowers, once upon his brows, not sit upon his breastplate. 


Banner art: A Basket of Flowers - Jan Brueghel the Younger


Galtharian seldom mentions and comments little on the years of his life before he departed towards the town of Bree. There were instances in which he would mention kin, still residing in the forests of Greenwood, though not much is said regarding their relations. The only one who tried pushing this topic in his presence found no answer, save for pleading that the questions would stop.

One thing that is known is that not long after reaching maturity, he departed the forests in the pursuit of a certain Cedmon, having read a note asking for those willing to journey and explore to meet him in Bree. After many days of travel, during which he would acquire a fiddle from a traveling merchant, he reached the town to meet up those that answered this same call. These would become his closest companions for some time and the band of four odd travelers, calling themselves 'Windswept', could frequently be seen in and around Bree, cheerful and loud. This moment would mark the beginning of an adventure he would embark upon, offering not much other than cheer and song to those who would take up arms against the dangers of the region.

After many a day spent in the town and many a night in 'The Prancing Pony' all three of his companions would one day no longer be found in the town. This is when the Silvan would purchase a sizable property just outside the walls of Bree in which he would dwell for some months, before leaving the town as well.

Many months would pass before he would be sighted in Bree once more, now accompanied by dwarven companion that he would, with much familiarity, refer to as Dal.  Taking residence in a seemingly abandoned hall near his known dwelling, a rumour started circulating among the folk of the region; a rumour that a new inn by the name of ' The Hammer and The Harp' has opened in this very dwelling, serving as a refuge to the odd folk who pass through the town.

Dolothrion and Lupold - once dearest yet gone / Dalbran - who he calls his only kin / Ithilwe, Envandame - one who know him truly / Cedmon - a light now lost / Hrondis, Farlrik - who waited for him, believing
There are those that might have heard that he still has some living kin somewhere in the forests of 'Mirkwood', as he openly calls them. Still, curiously enough, he has been known to call Dalbran, as well as his brothers, his only kin.
He is especially wary of wargs after one unfortunate incident that almost left him without his fiddle-arm. Still, he would stand against anything and anyone that would endanger his friends, even if he can do nothing more than act as bait.
Music. The feeling of leaves and petals pressed against skin. Time spent in conversation or silence, among those he calls friends.
Solitude. Also, carrot soup, as of recently.
To preserve the name of the Windseeker. To provide a home. To ensure the Windswept brings light and warmth. To spread tales of the mighty Giant-slayer across all dwarven holds. To provide a drink and cheer in dark times.
'If there was a way to stop this hurt within you, I would happily journey with you to all the edges of Middle Earth. And all that still would be less than you deserve...'

Galtharian's Adventures

Amalanthian's journey to Bree (part 1 out of 4) 1 month 1 week ago
In Your Room, part 2 3 months 1 week ago
7:28 3 months 2 weeks ago
In Your Room, part 1 5 months 1 week ago
Windswept, nevermore 7 months 3 weeks ago
Galtharian's Adventures

Galtharian's Gallery

Galtharian's Gallery