Brendun

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Brendun is a farmer from the North, currently residing within the lands of House Umber.

## Biography

### Youth

366 AC, the year of Brendun's unfortunate birth. He was born in the short winter in the lands surrounding White Harbor. His mother was an innkeep and his father was some gallant warrior from the north or even further a hero of the Land of Always Winter, or an honorable knight who was more man than saint - or so Brendun had been told. The story always changed and the descriptions did too. A large man with a hand twice the size of Brendun's head and eyes as blue as the sky, a man built like an ox and a bear combined - big, hairy, and hard-headed. Needless to say, he never met the man and he never really questioned it. His mother thanked him for his humility whenever she had the chance. What never changed though, was his mother's insistence that he was named after a great warrior. Brendun something or other. But Brendun was the given name and that name was now his.

As a child Brendun assisted his mother with the menial labor that surrounded the inn. He chopped wood. He cared for the horses. He cleaned the stalls within the stables. Set the hearth. Stirred the kitchen pots and emptied the chamber pots. Not all of it was good work, and he only received head pats and forehead kisses as thanks. His shoulders were broadened by the labor chores and his respect for an honest day's work only built from his extensive work as essentially a servant at the Inn. He did however pick up on his mother's enterprising ways, showing the bright future as a mercantilist. Though she never taught him how to read properly himself, he definitely knew how to count.

By the age of twelve, 378 AC, Brendun was well built and his arms from cutting wood had been conditioned for holding and swinging the woodsman's axe. The tool of choice for anyone traveling into the forest. A survivor's weapon. He had used it many a time to defend himself against angry wildlife when he traveled the forests around White Harbor at night. Never hunted really, but definitely scared off a buck or two during the long months. Some of the men at arms at White Harbor showed him the proper way of doing things with the axe, and as thanks the young boy pulled double duty, assisting with the levies of House Manderly in their mundane tasks that a squire boy or page wasn't available to do, all for free as well. His mother chastised him, that he shouldn't work for free. But he reasoned that these men were teaching him, and he wanted to be a knight like his father and that these men were closer to the knights of White Harbor than anyone else, closer to House Manderly. He worked at the inn during the evenings and spent most of his daylight hours working with these men at arms and members of the city watch, making a name for himself as reliable. In return, they tutored him in axes despite attempting to break his familiarity for a more honorable weapon. The Sword.

### Brynden's Rebellion

381 AC came quickly and without quiet. The North mobilized and a boy nigh grown wanted to fight with the men who were all basically his father at this point. The men of White Harbor, the levies, when they marched out he did too. But not as a soldier, as a camp follower. He had his axe with him and he wished his mother goodbye, said that he was going to be squired and a knight by his return to her. His mother was torn to shreds at the sight of her only son leaving her this way, off to fight in a war he didn't belong in. But there was nothing she could do to stop him, he was healthy and strong, and quick. He knew so much already and the Gods would keep him. Or so she hoped.

War is something a child should never see. War is something a child should never experience.

But he saw, and he did. Brendun had never seen dead bodies like that before. He had seen victims of murder and accidents that ended tragically, bodies of people mauled by wolves and corpses produced by banditry. He had never seen the grizzled fields of bone in the wake of a battle. In the wake with the other camp-follower folk he saw the faces of men he knew once, some he didn't know. What he had done, travelled from the North to the Riverlands and the Reach, but he never was knighted. Never was squired. Never was anything other than a young man with an axe who eventually, could fight better than he could scavenge the leftovers.

### The Aftermath

After the rebellion, a host of the Northmen remained in King's Landing and Brendun returned north.He was well versed in the roads and dells now, the brooks and the rivers of the entire Kingdom just about, he did take the keen mind for navigation away from the rebellion just as it stole his wondrous innocence. He stopped over in White Harbor for a moon before continuing further north. He was changed and the city didn’t suit him well. The rebellion had sculpted a young man from the raw form of a boy by 384 AC and that man was traumatized. He moved as far north as Last Hearth, the lands of Umber. He took up residence in one of the small villages and acted as a protector. The closest thing in his mind to being a knight he could think of. Protecting villages from the encroaching Wildlings. He has a farm, a small one and sometimes he herds his sheep down to the markets to sell, very rarely does he make the trip down to King's Landing for luxuries and to deal with exotic traders for his more rustic trade goods, but this year. He has done such a task,

## Timeline

* 366 AC - Born

* 378 AC - Trained in Axes, gained some skill in Mercantilism from his mother years before.
* 381 AC - Followed the Northern Hosts to subdue the Rebellion.
* 384 AC - Returned from the Rebellion and moved north to Last Hearth. Gained Navigation.
* 390 AC - Returned to Kingslanding for the likely last birthday of the current King, and do some exotic trading.

## Family Tree

* Meliana - Mother (b.333 AC - )

* *Unknown Father*