Gaelimil froze with shock at the sight of his dead tutor. He had known Angolchíl the Wise ever since his father had brought him to Ost-in-Edhil for tutelage. The young Laegel did not understand why the Valar had allowed this to happen, and he found them unjust as he was gazing upon the dead body of his teacher. The sound and war chants of the orc army had brought him back to the present. They were in an unknown tongue; a tongue that hurt the young elf upon listening it, unlike anything that had ever hurt him before. And they were nearing. He did not know what to do… thus, he ran. He ran for his life, with black arrows nipping at his heels. He ran for the entire night, aimlessly, without direction. During that time, he could not stop sobbing. He was a coward.
A mature Gaelimil tightened his grip on his spear, while still eyeing the orcs. He had found renewed strength in the painful memory. Despite the fact that he had been previously wounded by a black arrow, the warden felt more energetic than ever before. A first orc attacked with a lunge while laughing hideously. Gaelimil evaded the lunge, and planted his spear deep in the creature’s throat. Seeing this, the other attackers took one step back. The warden pressed this momentary advantage and shouted in a clear, damning voice “ANGOLCHÍL!” while throwing his javelin at another orc with all his might. The target tried to evade the deadly projectile, but fell to the ground impaled, blood gurgling out of its dying mouth. The attackers then decided to press on their numeric advantage, and so they all attacked Gaelimil who was already taken in by battle frenzy…
Moments later, the elf was panting heavily as he came back to reality. He saw dead orc corpses littering the nearby landscape. How he had killed them all was beyond him at this point. Gaelimil went to the impaled orc, and retrieved his bloody javelin from his guts. He gasped, remembering the acute pain left by his wound.
The elf had found renewed purpose in his life. He had to oppose the shadow in the East with all his might. Sauron’s armies would never burn another city of the Third Age. Not while Gaelimil could still fight. He was through with running and wandering aimlessly. He would stand his ground.
He was a warden.
