[hider=Coleman Cutleaf]
Coleman Cutleaf was born in a simple home to a simple family of farmers in the secluded village of Archet, on the eaves of the Chetwood in eastern Bree-land. Cole, like most Bree-folk, is short in stature, but broad, with calloused hands and hardy disposition. Of plain features, with a square jaw and a wide nose, he is not a face that would stand out in a crowd. A patchy beard covers a few scars earned in the wild, the same colour as his short, brownish hair. His hazel eyes are often thoughtful and reveal a keen mind, despite his otherwise gruff appearance. 

Growing up on his father’s farm, along with his brothers and sisters, taught him the value of hard work and provided him with an enduring stubbornness, common in village folk. An inquisitive lad, Cole kept pestering elders and what few travellers passed through Archet for stories of faraway lands and the “old days”. Much to the dismay of the whole village he once stopped a travelling Watcher, one of those mysterious woodsmen, to ask him about the lands north of Bree! Not particularly impressed, his parents dismissed these oddities as childhood fancies and were certain that in time Cole would see the right of it. 

The years rolled on, one day much like the other and Cole grew ever more restless with the quiet, mundane life. Whenever he had a free moment of time, he’d disappear into the hills and woods surrounding Archet, seeking out ruins belonging to the old kingdoms. He’d often drag other boys into his adventures, luring them with promises of ancient treasures and legendary weapons, but as they grew older, less and less people paid him any heed. This did not deter Cole in the least bit, though he now had somewhat of a reputation as a peddler of tall-tales and a hopeless dreamer. 

When Cole had seen his sixteenth winter, his parents decided that it was for the best to send him to Bree. It was now obvious that the young man would never grow accustomed to a life of tending fields and raising animals, so they hoped he would pick up a craft in the big city. Brimming with joy, Cole moved in with his mother’s brother - a dour cooper, who had no children of his own. His uncle quickly understood that Cole was not suited for a craftsman, instead he bid his nephew to join the Town Watch, which Cole immediately accepted.  

Life as a watchman proved interesting at first. Cole trained with bow and spear each day, eager to prove himself to his instructors. He patrolled the streets of Bree and, when he had some more experience under his belt, his superiors began sending him to the other settlements in the area, including Archet, where his family finally looked at him with pride. The lad worked on his skills diligently and, in time, began besting some of the older watchmen. Though as Bree-land is a place of farmers and not warriors, it was, in truth, not that great a feat. 

Cole’s enthusiasm didn’t last for long, however, as he eventually realised that guard work was just as boring as peeling potatoes back home. During these times Bree-land was peaceful and the most Cole and his comrades had to deal with was an unruly patron at the inn or petty thievery. Still, it was better than life in Archet and his position allowed him a greater measure of freedom to travel around. Over the next five years, he earned enough to acquire a small home of his own in Bree and used any opportunity to explore the lands of Eriador. Whenever a task required someone to travel far afield, Cole was the first to volunteer. He’d often find an excuse to linger abroad for longer than necessary, though by now the other watchmen had grown accustomed to his quirks. 

When he wasn’t working, he spent the evenings at the Prancing Pony, talking with traders and travellers who chanced to pass by. With every tale and song, his mind painted a vivid picture of what the broader world was like - the rolling plains of the horse-lords, the mines of the dwarves under the mountain and the great white city far to the south. Alluring images that called to him, seemingly so close, just beyond the horizon and yet they always remained out of reach. Cole took an interest in books and scrolls, which were not common in Bree, and would often spend his entire pay on them. He couldn’t even read, but his uncle knew some letters and, more importantly, introduced Cole to an old, learned man. Weak from age and with waning sight, the man lived alone and offered to teach Cole what he knew, in exchange for help around his house. He passed away before he could teach the lad much, but thanks to his lessons and determination, Cole is able to read most texts and can even write some simple sentences. 


As a result of his wanderings, the young Bree-lander could boast of having seen the dreaded Barrow-downs, the smials of Buckland, the ruined visage of Weathertop in the east and even Deadman’s Dike far to the north on the Greenway. During his travels he attracted the attention of the Watchers, or Rangers, as they called themselves; though a rare sight, he chanced upon a number of them in the wild. Cole pleaded with them to take him on, but the rough men would sadly shake their heads and urge him to return to his simple life. Needless to say, the Bree-folk thought him to be an eccentric, even slightly mad, but his friendly demeanour and interesting stories prevented them from truly scorning him. 

By the time Cole had turned three and twenty, he had mostly resigned himself to his fate. Perhaps, contrary to what folk believed, the places from the stories and books were real or maybe they were not. Whatever the case, it was not meant for a simple man like him to witness - he had accepted that. This all changed on one fateful evening, when Cole was returning from a regular patrol on the southern Greenway. He found tracks and blood, which lead him to a dead Ranger, torn apart by wolves. Surprise was quickly followed by shock – to Cole these stoic men seemed nigh invisible, immortal even and yet his curious mind couldn’t help but investigate. 

Among the man’s meagre belongings he found a letter. A summons to a place called Aldburg, somewhere in the vast lands of the south. It was obviously addressed to the dead man or the other Watchers. In this, Cole saw his chance and he leapt to seize it. He hurried back to Bree and in the dead of night packed his things, taking with him supplies for a long journey. Before the morning light shone on Bree’s rooftops, Cole was gone, leaving behind no trace. It took him at least a week to realise that this was a fool’s quest. How could he compare to the fallen Ranger? The man no doubt had skills that Cole could only dream of. He didn’t even know where Aldburg was! It was too late to turn back, however, so he pushed on.

Cole took most of his possessions for the journey, for he didn’t have much in the first place. Simple clothes of earthen colours, a pair of sturdy boots and an old map he had bought from a merchant some time before. He took his spear, which doubled as a walking stick, and bow as well - for protection and to hunt once his rations ran out. Additionally, despite the pangs of guilt, he had taken some of the dead Ranger’s things: a leaf-green cloak and mask, a masterfully-crafted hunting dagger and, the most awe-inspiring of all, a sword! He had never handled a real one before. The Bree Watch had some blunted ones for training, but he’d only seen travellers wearing them. 

With the help of the map, no small amount of luck and his wits, Cole managed to traverse the wilds of Eriador and pass into the lands of the horse-lords. Though not a true hunter, his aim was steady enough to provide him with meat, and a life spent on a farm meant he could recognise a variety of plants and roots for when the need arose. A chance encounter in the region known as Dunland resulted in him acquiring a horse. He was no rider, but it was yet another skill he had to learn during his journey. Many long weeks after setting out from Bree, he found himself on the road to Aldburg – his journey’s end. 

Little did he know that the journey was just beginning…
[/hider]