Legends of Belariath

Lowen

Spry limbs and tender skin cover the structure that is Lowen. The woman is twenty harsh winters so far but tempered with lazy summers. Her eyes are an obtuse canary yellow, bright and eerie. Her hair is a sandy brown with streaks of blonde like that of an oak bark dribbled with golden honey. Lowen's skin is tanned from being constantly in the sun, liking the outdoors very much. She weighs about one hundred thirty pounds and stands at five foot six. Her build isn't overly slender as she had developed some muscle to protect herself. Her feet normally are worn of sandals in summer for propriety or bare in the fields, protected and warm in boots when winter lays on the ground. A long cloak of gray is usually close for those cool nights but is shed for the summer. Her ears are pierced twice and her wrists are decorated with twined twigs of braided intricacy. A pretty lass of farm innocence she looks- but is not for the woman seems to have a bit of gypsy blood in her, traveling so much in her lifetime- that now she has found Nanthalion; she thinks to stay a while and see what kind of life is to be had in the trappings of routine living.

The girl works now in the Lonely Inn as a barmaid. Her work hours vary but she always tries to give the most pleasant service. The difference about her and the other workers- she doesn't converse overly much, liking to keep working and keep things clean and tidy and smooth running.

The woman has many fond memories of traveling in her family's wagon. The small group of gypsy creatures were nomadic to their last drop of blood. But, a few years ago, tragedy struck when Lowen's relatives were burned to death in a blaze that suddenly stormed upon them from the close embrace of a lone glen. Lowen was one of the four survivors to make it out alive and the only one who actually escaped with minor scarring. The rest of those who had run with her was her mother, her blind grandmother and her brother. Of course, no one in her family talks of that night for no one wishes to admit what actually had caused the inferno to kick up like an archdevil’s breath. A wicked concoction went awry perpetrated by her grandmother, stubborn that she could do the proper mixing by herself; after doing so for almost a century. Her family now lives in Nanthalion, the girl exploring her options in the deeper part of town.

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