Appearance: Slanu is a man of short stature, and similarly of little muscular build. This is not to say that he is not physically fit, because he is; he just does not develop muscle, for some reason. His hair is jet black, unlike the majority of the inhabitants of Rivendell, and he seems to have a permanent stubble on his jaw line and just about his mouth. His face looks chiseled from stone. His eyes are a mixture of two colors; the majority of the irises are a deep brown, while the parts closest to the inside are of a light emerald hue.

Many would describe his posture as casual; he often keeps his hands in the pockets of his leather pants. But he never slouches, unless he is sneaking purposely. He has no scars on his body, and his skin retains a constant, unexplainable lightly tanned tint.

Description: Slanu was known before being banished as charismatic and sociable; many adored him for his charm and the loudness that he provided at gatherings. However, after the events that caused him to be in his current position, he became less of a talker with people and more of a quietly receptive stone. His expression usually is thoughtful, and his brow almost always carries the weight of a heavy burden, causing his brows to be in constant furrow. He has a tendency to tap his fingers against things, and to bite his upper lip when in thought. One of his quirks is becoming angry whenever anyone mentions his lack of strength, or his short height or weight. The outbursts that follow such statements are angry, and almost always somewhat violent.

Flaw(s): He has a serious anger management problem. Whenever someone mentions his short stature or lack of strength, he will throw a tantrum and become violent. Also, his lack of physical strength would have proven to be a hindrance to the Fellowship.



Weaponry: His weapons of choice are six daggers that he keeps strapped to his belt; he usually throws them at the enemy with great accuracy. He also carries a short one-handed sword, as he cannot physically lift a two-handed sword.

Armor or clothing: He has a chainmail torso with the symbol of Rohan emblazoned on the front. The rest of his apparel does not offer much protection at all; he wears pants of leather, riding boots, and black gloves.

Miscellaneous: He wears a simple necklace made of a heavy metal. The stone on it has been painted black, and the chains engulf it. To him, it symbolizes the redemption that he is seeking; the necklace was made by his own hands. However, he keeps this out of sight and out of reach of others. He also has a horse, who has been his most faithful companion, named Afon. The horse is about fifteen years old, and female. She is a pale grey with a white mane and tail, and white spots speckling its hind legs and posterior. Afon loves Slanu dearly.

Skills and Abilities: Similar to nearly all of his countrymen, Slanu is an excellent horse rider and can cross nearly all terrains with his steed. (All except the steepest of mountains, of course.) His major redeeming ability, though, is his ability to sneak. He is short and unnoticeable, and as a child he would often practice sneaking things from local bakeries. He has become a seasoned burglar and can pass through many situations unnoticed. Also, because of his small stature and low weight, he has become agile, though not as agile as, say, an elf. He is also excellent at sewing!




History: Slanu was born as a twin, fraternally, to a warrior family in Rohan. His father was a great rider of Rohan with much esteem and honor in the community, and his mother worked as a housewife and seamstress. The small family was largely beloved, and Slanu and his brother, Arvel, found themselves the metaphorical “talk of the town” as children.

Growing up, Slanu and Arvel were the best of friends. When they were very young, the two did everything together. Slanu would steal bread from local bakeries (and was never noticed, mind you) for himself and Arvel, and Arvel would go to the surrounding fields and try to teach Slanu to catch rabbits. Arvel was never able to steal without being caught, and Slanu was never able to hunt rabbits successfully. Still, the two always tried to include each other in their antics. Both were loud and talkative, so they made plenty of friends until the time that they started growing to the point where warrior training began.

At the young age of twelve, their father wanted them to begin training to become riders of Rohan. However, while Arvel had grown to an already staggering height of 5’8”, Slanu was barely pushing five feet even. Arvel also had inherited the brawns of the family, while it seemed that Slanu had inherited the brains and social skills. Still, their father took a liking to Arvel more, and soon gave up on Slanu’s training as a warrior. But Slanu was determined; he taught himself to ride better than nearly all of the riders of Rohan with his faithful steed, Afon. He did not have much to weigh the horse down, after all. But by the time the two reached puberty and Arvel was 6’3”, Slanu was only 5’5”. Arvel was who every man wanted by his side in battle and who every woman wanted by her side in the house. Slanu was forgotten by the warriors, though he still managed to make a name for himself by being an excellent orator. Slanu also found comfort in the fact that his mother still loved them both equally, and he would often help her around the house to return that love. (This is how he learned how to sew so avidly.) Still, Slanu started to become haunted by the town gossip. “Have you seen how much Arvel has grown? It’s a wonder that his brother grew so little; he is hardly taller than half the women in this town!” A resentment for his brother, who he had previously loved so dearly, began to fester within.

When the time came for those that were going to be Riders to join the others, Arvel was graciously accepted, and a large ceremony was held in his honor. Slanu was not even considered, even though he could ride a horse better than any of the others. After the ceremony was over, Slanu tried to confide in Arvel and renew their long-forgotten brotherly love; he wanted Arvel to convince the other Riders to allow Slanu to be a part of the fighting. But Arvel declined, saying that Slanu was simply too small to fight and was better suited to housework or to the caretaking of animals. Slanu snapped. On this night, he grabbed a knife from the kitchen and violently stabbed his own brother to death. His father was not in the house when it happened, but his mother was, and she was shocked. His mother urged Slanu to leave immediately, before the people of Rohan had a chance to kill him. He did as she said, packing up everything he felt he would need quickly and leaving immediately afterwards. He and Afon left Rohan, with cries of “Get the murderer!” and “Banish the Slayer!” But Afon and Slanu were too fast for them; they were never caught.

From that point on, Slanu became a rogue; he had simply been wandering the land when Gandalf approached him.



RP Sample: Slanu sat in front of a makeshift fire that crackled and sparked up into the night. The surrounding woods had become quiet, supposedly recognizing that there was a stranger in their midst. Afon was standing behind Slanu, chewing somewhat loudly on some of the long weeds that surrounded the embankment they found themselves in. “My old friend, your chewing is filled with more excitement than a starved dwarf,” Slanu said quietly, as if to himself.

He was not exactly sure where they were; they had recently traveled around the great mountains along the edge of Rohan, and now they found themselves in a large expanse of forest. They had not seen the open plain for a few days. “Do you suppose we will ever find ourselves out of these blasted woods?” He asked aloud, to which Afon simply snorted. “Well, you don’t have to be rude about it, friend.”

“I do not think you heard him correctly,” a voice spoke from the darkness. Slanu leapt up faster than a rabbit in flight of a hunter, a dagger already unsheathed from his waste.

“Who goes there?” he called into the darkness just beyond the blazes of the fire. An old man crept from the edges, his hands raised as if in a gesture of peace. His robes were grey, and his beard a lighter shade of that grey. He wore a queer sort of hat upon his head, which shaded a majority of his face.

“I did not mean to alarm you. I am but a weary traveler, as yourself.” Slanu’s stance un-tensed a bit; he seemed to, for some reason that he could not exactly explain, trust this aged stranger. He lowered his dagger, but kept it in his hand. “I will not lie, though, or bother you longer than I feel necessary,” the old man began, taking a seat on a log across from Slanu. Why did Slanu feel that he could not harm or do anything negative towards this man? It was as if he was releasing an aura of calm that had ensnared Slanu. The man, with staff in hand, gave Slanu a good look-down; he studied him from the tip of the hairs on his head to the soles of his boots. “Very well, I have decided; you will do just fine for the task.”

Slanu was taken aback slightly; what was this man talking about? “I beg your pardon, stranger, but I do not know of what you speak. What task do you speak of?”

“A wise question, my friend, and I cannot provide all of the answers here.” Slanu’s brow immediately furrowed, but the elder held up a hand to quiet Slanu’s thoughts for the moment. “However, I will tell you this… It will be harsh. Food may become scarce at times, and you will be traveling with complete strangers; most of them will not be trustworthy in nature. And you will be hunted, to the very edges of MiddleEarth if that is what it takes. The danger is incomparable to anything that you have ever experienced.” The old man’s gaze now dug deep into Slanu, who returned the gaze with one of confusion.

“And why, stranger, would I accept such a quest?”

“The reward is redemption.”

The next morning, Slanu and Afon began making their way to Rivendell to begin the journey.



(And, by the way... What's Taters, Precious?)