As a youth, Hartgard listened in rapt awe to the tales and songs told by the elders of his people. He committed many to memory and was regarded as having a fine singing voice. Due to his great size and strength, he gravitated towards martial pursuits. For several years, he and a tight-knit band of Beornings dubbed 'The Stoneclaws', got to know well the mountains surrounding the Anduin Vale - and the foes that lurked there. Goblins, Wargs, and occasionally worse. But despite the odd loss or withdrawal, they did themselves and their people proud, slaying or driving off many threats. Hartgard and his companions came and went, but returned to the Beorning dwellings to see family and friends. Hartgard was the pride of his aging parents and of his two elder brothers, both with their own families.
And then the black day came. The Stoneclaws hunted for a troll, a beast that had already killed several Beornings. They eventually cornered the foul creature in a dead-end ravine. Unfortunately, they found themselves trapped between the ravening creature and a force of warg-riders who had shockingly managed to shadow them.
The ensuing battle was ferocious. Hartgard and his brothers-in-arms used every bit of their skill and experience to try and break out. Hartgard volunteered to slow the troll. Fate had a cruel sense of humour that day. Despite receiving many glancing blows from the troll, Hartgard was able to trick the beast into punching the mountain face and knocking loose boulders onto it. That gave him just enough of an opportunity to drive his mighty axe through its neck.
He turned, to see that the Stoneclaws were giving their lives to cover him. The warg-riders had the better of them. Hartgard roared a warcry and charged, driving off the surviving foes, but not one of his companions survived their wounds that night. He brought their bodies from that bloody place but the shock of the day lingered. He found that the songs he once could recite so well would not come to his lips. Food and drink had lost much of their taste.
He long hunted for that band of warg-riders, but they had fled the Vale entirely. He tracked them far north, a curse upon his lips where song once was. He joined with a group of elves from Mirkwood and together they found and slew the goblins and their fierce mounts. But this brought Hartgard little joy. He wandered home, but home felt lacking. Confused and unsure of himself, he heard word of the great festival in Dale. Gathering himself together, he decided to go there, perhaps a journey would lift his spirits and let him come back to enjoy home.
