Hailing from the Western reaches, Denenor's rather spartan upbringing in a rural community was a stifling thing for his brilliant mind. The basics of reading and writing came simply to him, though he strove to find things to read and write
about. Traditional society pushed him into the field of fields, laboring to the crops, sweating with the seasons. Always looking for new ways of doing things, the innovative young elf learned what he could about forming the firmament to his liking. And like it he did; after some practice, the rain came from clouds of his creation, not buckets of his bringing.
So well-utilized was his ability, the tended crops tasted better and grew faster. He formed a small reputation over time, and his family's farm of self-sufficiency grew into a local business and attraction. After all, who wouldn't want to see the most giant gourd for miles around? While this was all fine and good, the curious mage-farmer sought to further his studies. He bartered big beets for big books, expanding his understanding and ken. Before long, he managed more than small patches of the field, the whole farmstead micromanaged for magnificent produce.
Having done what he could in his home, he left to see more of the world, offering what assistance he could in instruction - and atmospheric comfort - for lodging and food. He took-up landscaping in some of the steads at which he stayed, helping Denenor to train his talents to create crude artwork out of blown leaves, shoved soil, and moistened meadows. Though his talents were magical, his canvas was natural, and without knowing or intending it, he embodied both of the primary paths of life for his people.
A town a bit further away had sought for him. I guess I can go through Eastgate. Lots of dwarves to deal with though... Still, it was a small price to pay to see more of the world. He packed his few possessions and left.
