Younger years,

The young Gleoborn spent his days in his village in the eastern side of the Grey Mountains, Ered Mirtrim, sheltered and left alone to their own simple lives. Eventually, as time passed, Gleoborn was to be betrothed to one of the neighboring tribes' daughters, Annagwenn. For the marriage was arranged to strengthen the two tribes, unite them while the threat of the orc-kin threaten more ominously from the north.

Yet, it was within his younger years as the chieftain's son, brother to the bastard, Fencar, that he honed his skills as a warrior. His training continued well into his adult life, leading the skirmishes against the press of goblins and orcs that raged continuously against the village. Fencar, however, loathed and seethed in burning malice as he saw Gleoborn rise within the respect of his kinsmen. Within time Fencar's that malicious rancor grew ripe and rotten within his black heart. With the cloak of night shadowing his movements, he slew one of his brothers, chopped off his head with his axe, and took it to one of the orc tribes campaigning closeby. Baring the head of one of his kinsmen, he gambled a deal with the orcs, arranging for a surprise attack upon the village. Knowing of the wedding that would be celebrated, that of Gleoborn and his new wife, Fencar arranged for the orcs to sneak up while he burned the stockpiles. That night, with the festivities in full kilt, Fencar lurked and lit the grain silos housed in the round wooden barrels. His torches burned brightly and unexpectedly, around the camp, signaling for the orcs to pounce. As the battle raged and Gleoborn made his way to his wife and infant child, Fencar was already there. Then in front of his hated brother's eyes, Fencar slit his wife's throat and snatched his daughter, leaving Gleoborn to bleed to death on a dirty and fire flamed village.

After almost losing his life and his people, all that he knew, he spent three years in a determined and torturing pilgrimage along the snowing, icy spine of the Misty Mountains, climbing west and marching over the Coldfells. Eventually, with renewed vigor, he re-immersed himself from the life of hermit-like existence, and mades his way further along the Great Road. There he joined a group of trade caravans and worked as a guard towards the green and fertile pastures of Bree-land.

Within the party that he was traveling, an old and sickly cloth merchant from the Dales, gave Gleoborn a letter with the instruction to deliver it to a certain address. Arriving at the said address, Gleoborn realized there might be more than just a casual delivery, but perhaps something more sinister lurk behind the old and sickly merchant and the letter.

Currently and recent past,

Arriving a poor man in Bree, he met Gethan, a woman with an interesting and strange past, which he stayed at and coveted. But, as Gleoborn's wanderlust took hold of his heart once again, he set off to the Lone Land in search of his half-brother, Fencar, having heard of his presence amongst the hilltribes of the Rudhuar. Upon his return, he found Gethan departed from the house she once shared with him. Sorrow and sadness, melancholy settled in his life for a while, the guilt of leaving her. Upon this time, he met another of which's past enchanted him, Cahani. The last couple of weeks he's been traveling with her now back to Bree. Still a poor man, he is currently in search of a paying vocation, yet having no skills with anything other than his axe.