jdesarno

(Authors note: I'm sorry for the sheer amount, some people don't wish to read It.. but unfortunately I don't think I could describe what Thorvn could've been In one paragraph, I hope you understand.)

In the year 1627 In the Kingdom of Hanseti-Ruska, a pair of rose entwined lovers attempted to concede a child, the mother wanting a beautiful, robust girl to call her own while the father wished for a son to bear the family name of Bronwyn and pass down years of experience to a healthy child that'll ensure their future as a fledgling armor-smith. The Bronwyn family served three generations of service with the Holy Orenian Empire, primarily in chain and reinforced hauberks that saved countless lives during the great northern war, unfortunately their line was quickly driven out of work when the wars ceased, leaving the family in a state of poverty for years to come. An unshared experience with Thoromir's town mainly kept secret that his wife, Gretchen was mostly infertile due to birth defects, meaning the chance of bearing his child or in this case anyone's was slim to none, everything they've tried- constant attempts in secret, tonics that would most people retch, herbal teas, you name it, they desperately seeked for an answer, the whole town knew of their shared conflict and had no answer for them. Another few weeks pass, the couple  was only after the assistance of a town-faring alchemist that allowed Gretchen to finally squeeze out enough fertility for one child, and his name was Thorvn.

To the relieved couples shock several months prior to planned birth that Thorvn came early in-rushed miscarriage, most would've assumed that a child In such harsh environments would've perished without proper care, the funding- the savings to raise a child, the two were no more than 12 years apart from one another In age at the very least Thoromir had an actual professional background, assumed dead the couple rushed the blanketed infant to the local soothsayer, It was found that Thorvn had survived, barely- to their surprise such a petite baby was crying out under the rough-spun blanket, weighing little over an ounce the miracle child that had come to be was their own rightful heir to the family name like it or not.. they had properly given care to a progeny. 

Several years pass, struggled attempts to treat Thorvn's 'condition' leaving little success, having Gretchen hopelessly tend to the boy while Thoromir made ends meet gave little time for family bonding between father and son, Thorvn struggling with crippling psychical disability could do what only most bed-ridden folks could do, read! Taught by his mother on occasion and with a hell of a-lot of practice the inspiring cripple had developed a knowledge that would surpass all but the wisest within the village. Read, practice walking, watch snow, eat, sleep, repeat: This was Thorvn's daily routine until he could finally walk without assistance at the age of ten.. in another note, the same year the local residential district found Thoromir's body in the snow, frozen to the bone, skin white as porcelain presumably working himself to death to feed his family, the renowned retired smith was barely recognizable , not even to his psychically inept son.

Another few years pass, Thorvn completely oblivious to the blacksmith's profession had taken up apprenticeship in alchemy, to his mentors surprise coming on quite fast compared to previous pupils, It was easier said they'd have a mutual relationship in the forthcoming years, seeing the wiser apothecary more as a father that taught basic life lessons than his previously deceased Thoromir, in time forgetting the name entirely, as for Gretchen- her life fell to pieces within the prior year, committing what sounded to be a mercy for herself- and the intellectual Thorvn, burning the house down while he'd sleep- setting herself ablaze, running off and meeting the same fate, the struggling Thorvn had no Idea of what happened.. until at least the fire reached his face.