You are a human,born in a small, unremarkable village in the Northwestern Lands known as Hithlum. It is peaceful here, next to a river, and small enough to be ignored by Morgoth's armies...
You awaken from your bed. You rise from your uncomfortable pillow and mattress, hearing a constant dripping sound. The rain from last night has caused water to start dripping through the flimsy, wooden corner of the ceiling...again. Thankfully, it's just started, so you put your old, rusted bucket there to catch the water before the damp became too out of control.
After a breakfast of cold mushroom soup, you leave your one-room shack to go to meet your mentor. The air is cool, and the sun has barely just come up. You look out to see the grasslands of Hithlum, and the mountain ranges in the distance. You feel a strange connection to them, something that makes your heart get caught in your throat for a moment.
It is not exactly the most luxurious place to live, but it's been your home, and the people here are as close as family.
You decide to pay an early visit to your mentor. Your training is practically finished; this final visit is more of a formality, to get you officially named as a novice in your field. So, who is your mentor? What path did you choose all those years ago?