Anguirelm

            The world has shrunk to three – I barely remember the crowd of witnesses standing to one side. The full weight of the moment seems to hang above me in the still air - even the wind seems to be holding its breath. Galdorion stands before me, waiting by a huge figure swathed in red fabric. Beside me is Lord Anglachelm, standing silently, an imperious presence – impossible to ignore, even though I am almost afraid to look at his expression as he listens to Galdorion.

              Then he rode towards the next town, under the guise of a Merchant. Wrappings of the dead Easterling saved him many times in the face of the danger but speaking in the local language was not easy for the elf. As some words of the easterling language was very hard to cope for him. Extensive use of throat in speaking was annoying and sometimes giving hints about his true identity. Nevertheless, Anglachelm tried to speak Rhûn as well as he could.