It is said that a being without a purpose is a being which does not truly exist. It exists only to live, without a higher meaning, goal or motivation. Gaelimil thought himself to be such a being. He did not know his purpose. All he knew at the moment, while he was staring in the eyes of the savage orcs that were surrounding him, was that he had to fight. He had to fight for his life, for what he held dear… yet most of all he had to fight for a purpose...
... “And fighting is my purpose now”, he thought. Gaelimil held his spear and shield held high, in a tense battle posture. His eyes never flinched, as the orcs came closer and closer with their perverted swords drawn. The warrior could feel the malice of his enemies while looking deep in their eyes. He was to fight, or die. He would not run, no matter the odds. He would not run… not as he did once…
Footsteps and howls could be heard in the summer night of 1695 of the Second Age. A young elf, only but a child of five, was exploring the surroundings of Eregion – the holly land. He walked at length in the night, until finally reaching the entrance to Ost-in-Edhil. Gazing behind him, Gaelimil noticed that the forest in the distance seemed so different for him at night. It was more menacing, more foreboding, as if the shadows announced the coming of great evil. He hurried inside the great elven capital, as his steps guided him in the direction of a small yet welcoming house. The young elf could not help but wonder why there is day and night, as his steps continued along the streets of Ost-in-Edhil. He could not comprehend why there must be both good and evil in this world. He had heard tales of the Valar, beings of infinite power who created Arda. He had also heard that they were benevolent spirits, on the side of good. How could they permit evil to exist, then?
The moral qualm was a confusing matter for the young one, and he chose not to think about it for the moment. Reaching his destination, Gaelimil knocked at the door, and a stern figure answered. “You are late, young one” the stern figure enveloped in shadow announced. “Were you yet again wondering on the outskirts of the city?” the figure continued in a questioning tone, while not revealing itself. The young elf nodded apologetically, as the shadowy figure came out into the moonlight to pat Gaelimil on the shoulder. Angolchíl, a scholar of Ost-in-Edhil and tutuor to the young elf, smiled warmly as he beckoned the youngling to come inside.
The welcoming home was Angolchíl’s personal heaven. It was a collection of everything a scholar would require to ply his trade. The aged elf encouraged Gaelimil to sit down on a stool, and together they began a lengthy talk…
…“Why must there be evil, then?” the youngling asked his tutor, a renowned historian. Gaelimil persisted in asking the same question, despite the fact that he could not receive a straight answer from his tutor. All he received were allegorical tales to which he paid no attention.
The young elf’s line of thought was interrupted by the coarse sound of drums, instruments unlike any he had heard before. Getting up from his stool, and peering outside through a nearby window, Gaelimil could notice flickering fires in the distance beyond the city. Angolchíl, the young elf’s tutor, paused as well from his prolonged explanation. “Something is not right”, he asserted while a shadow of doubt and worry crept up on the Eldar’s face. “Stay here young one, do not come out on the streets ‘till I return!” the aged Elf uttered in a commanding tone. Gaelimil nodded and watched his tutor depart in haste, without shutting the door behind him.
One by one, the fires would disappear in the distance but the drums’ beating could still be heard. Gaelimil would perceive this intrusive noise as a rhythm which was moving closer to the direction of Ost-in-Edhil, as if war would soon come upon the city. He was all alone inside a somewhat modest accommodation, and the only source of comfort for a small terrified young Eldar was the glimmering moonlight shining inside from the open doorway. All around him young Gaelimil could see bookshelves, parchments and old maps. The room emanated a slightly dank odour, probably as a result of all the useless knowledge being piled up in such a small space the youngling thought. The rhythm of the drums seemed to beat closer and closer…
Peering around the old scrolls, Gaelimil noticed a white leather map drawn masterfully by his tutor. Angolchíl had drawn in detail the land of Eregion, and the young one could appreciate his tutor’s mastery in the scholarly arts and cartography. Touching the leather, Gaelimil traced with his index finger the lines of ink on the map until reaching Ost-in-Edhil, the current residing place. The young elf wondered what would happen to this city, as he continued listening to the rhythmic drums which were beating even closer - a foreboding menace in the dark night...
