#lebcanon

“When Hal brought the little Viper into the Seven Arms in the first place, I thought he was mad. Not only was it another mouth to feed, but the eyes – that boy’s dangerous, we could both see that. Problem is, Hal seems to think he can change him, or failing that, train him to direct it elsewhere. He doesn’t have many bad ideas, but this is one of his worst. If we put a sword in that boy’s hand, we’ll be dead as soon as our backs are turned. And what scares me more than that is that I can’t tell if Hal just can’t see it, or if he just doesn’t care anymore.”

“Give the Viper his due, he’s good with them maces of his: fights like he’s possessed, most of the time. ‘Course, he knows that if he don’t come back with money to pay off his gambling debts, he might as well be six feet under, so that takes his choice away but…good kid. He coulda had anything, but he chose this. I’ll tell ya this for nothing, he’s making his mark – Skip and I had better start watching our backs…”

While he doesn't necessarily like Hiremwen (just as she, frankly, despises him), he feels as though he has the most in common with her, especially after she was formally disowned. He often regrets not getting back in touch.

While Lebryn is largely illiterate in Westron, he can read khuzdul runes quite well. He isn’t dyslexic, he just never liked reading and never liked learning from his father. He has quite a good understanding of politics, due to his cynical nature, and he has developed a reasonable understanding of anatomy, thanks to his profession. He developed a conversational level of elvish, to honour his mother.

On his first night in Edoras, Lebryn gets punched on the side of the head by another sellsword (who we later find out is Hallam) - nothing much, perhaps. But over the coming months, he begins to notice gradual but serious changes in his hearing. Even over five years later, his hearing is significantly reduced on his left hand side, and he often tilts his body so that he can better use his right ear.

It's probably just as well that our lowlife father slit his throat before anything could really come of it.

Scars, my friend, would imply that people have been able to lay a finger on me. I'm too fast to have any real scars. End of story. ((Mun would like to point out that he's lying through his teeth...but he has his reasons.))