Let me introduce myself: I am Brrokk Barrowbane. I come originally from the Lonely Mountain far to the East, but I journeyed to these lands in search of riches. Well, that is nothing unusual for a dwarf as you know, but I had little alternative. As a younger son of a large and by no means rich family, I did not have much hope of easy wealth. And, I admit, I was proud. My family were retainers and servants to the dwarf lords who had returned to the Mountain after the defeat of the drake Smaug, but I did not relish such employment. I therefore gathered my few possessions and jouneyed westward, towards Eriador and the Halls of Thorin I had heard of in the far-off Blue Mountains.

In those days I was simply called Brrokk; the name given to me by my family. Among my kin a second name must be earned or taken by force. I chose the second way as I will now disclose.

Arriving in the Blue Montains I was awed by the magnificence of Thorin's Hall and the great statue of Durin carved in the cliff above. I decided to learn the jeweller craft as a means to gain wealth, imagining that mining gold and skilfully working it would quickly attract rich customers. But I found that many others had chosen the same path, and moreover the only precious metal easily found in the Blue Mountains was copper.

And searching for copper I came into conflict with goblins who also sought it in the Vale of Thrain. I therefore determined to practice with weapons. I learned the use of armour and shield too, and soon began to study the role of a guardian.

In fighting against evil creatures I naturally came into contact with others doing the same. A few of us formed a rough band. "Wight Knuckle" we called ourselves; a name of intended double meaning which we hoped would gain a fell reputation. Well, wights were evil and to be defeated. Their knuckles were often prominently visible, but we would offer them our own, and worse too. And then, many of us shared tales of a mythical "Isle of Wight", which we believed to be far off in the Encircling Seas and which was a place of great beauty and magnificence.

But I digress into mythology. We of Wight Knuckle became a force to be reckoned with, and soon carried our war against the minions of evil into Breeland. I remember Steveomere the elf, who first introduced me into the group; he was a skilled minstrel. An elf, you say? Why would a dwarven warrior associate with an elf? Well, but the group also included Jayar, a fearsome dwarf champion and skilled metalsmith, who made for me many fine armour pieces. And then there was the man Carlfrid, always ready to shoot at the foe with his great bow. Sometimes, he was ready before the rest of us.

Ah, those were the days. I remember many victories. And I remember the day which decided my name. Wight Knuckle were to celebrate their name by making a raid into Othrongroth, the Great Barrow, in the Barrow Downs near Bree. I did not feel quite ready for this, but the rest were eager to confront an evil wight named Sambrog. We entered the barrow. Things went well at first as we fought various nasty creatures. But on a twisting stair I mistook my way and lost the rest of the party.

I could say that I was gripped with fear, but I am a dwarf. I ran as fast as my legs would carry me, down and then up the stairs, trying side passages. I could hear the voices of my friends urging me to rejoin them, but I could not find the way to them! Instead, cold mists curled around my feet and foul wights came to a semblance of life and lumbered after me. Hairs stood up on the back of my neck as I tried to escape from my bewilderment and peril.

Well, I survived. I rejoined my friends and upbraided them for advancing too fast and leaving me behind. They seemed amused, but anger burned within me. And yet, rather than allowing the anger to grow hot and scorch the bonds of friendship, I found that I could guide and channel it. It became a rage against the dead, who in this place would usurp life and make mockery of the living. Thus it was that when we all finally met Sambrog, my blows were a good part of his defeat. I took from his skeletal remains the axe, "Sambrog's Bane" that I used in battle for long afterwards. And I also took my name: "Barrowbane".

Since that time, I have made it my first purpose to return the dead to death at every opportunity. The Wight Knuckle fellowship is no more; some have grown slack in the defence of Middle Earth, although I am glad to say that Carlfrid is here too in our present company. I drink to him in memory of the many foul things we have slain together. But I do not forget that night in Othrongroth. My armour is black, and although I have owned several axes since, all have been named "Bane of Sambrog".

Ah, and I have also become a supreme master jeweller and am now comfortably rich.