Hartfast looks like the Misty Mountains; craggy features, absurdly tall, and a wild shock of white hair. Golden amulets are braided into his grey beard. He has seen more than fifty winters here in the mountains, but he is yet unbowed. He does lean on a stout walking stave more than he used to, but he can still swing an axe or draw a bow with the best of his grandsons. He is a proud man, and has little time for outsiders – not even the other Woodman tribes are truly welcome here. It is a long way across the River to Woodland Hall, and Hartfast considers them distant cousins at best. Behind his back, the other Woodmen call him the ‘tallest dwarf’ for his stubborn pride and standoffishness.