Standing a shade over four foot, Kharrum is broad shouldered and sturdy in the manner of his folk. He is blessed with a head of rich mahogany hair and likewise beard, though is youthful enough not to braid it, instead sporting an unkempt curly mass, with bushy eyebrows and a a wildness to it that suits his nature. It is kept back from his dark and muddy eyes with a tooled leather band, decorated with runic Khuzdul scripts. Near one corner of his mouth the beard is tamped down, a pressed grove where too-often a pipe likely sits.

On the road, he is typically encountered in one of the thick boldly-coloured woollen cloaks of his folk; in his case it is a bright sage green, the hood edged with brass threads in a geometric pattern and clasped with a brooch with two Dwarven runes upon it, <<. Beneath can be seen the waxed and stained leather straps and panels of his armour and greaves, fastened over a darker, almost boreal, green tunic. At his waist is a long thick belt, wrapped twice round and threaded through a brassy ring shaped like a hunting hound - more mannish in style, perhaps the craft of the men who live close by the eaves of Mirkwood - and from there hang both war hammer and axe. You might note the hammer is well-crafted and cared for with the haft criss-crossed in black eel-skin for grip, the axe plainer and more utilitarian. Upon his back he wears a compact pack with a shield strapped to it that has the symbol of Durin's Folk upon it: an anvil, crossed axes above with a crown where they cross and seven stars for the seven houses arrayed above. When travelling, he rides a shaggy grey mountain pony he calls Sindri

Relatively open in conversation, Kharrum hails from the Ered Luin, specifically from Thorin's Hall, and often travels between there and Bree, occasionally as far afield as the Shire or Imladis. His voice is surprisingly rich and baritone with a subtle accent said to be common in Nogrod. He claims no especial talent in storytelling or song, and he speaks freely of the lands he has travelled through, though such tales are focused on the land itself and its denizens and very rarely does he touch on the reason for his travels. Like many who venture between mannish lands, he is fond of pipeweed and ale.