The soldiers had camped, and Gil-galad sat in his tent. The sun was warm, and those of his men that had finished their chores, sat enjoying the weather. Gil-galad longed back to those days when he was still a youth, enjoying the beaches of Falas.
But he had responsibility, and matters to attend to. He needed to discuss the recent news that he had received with Isildur; that Sauron had returned, and not died in the Downfall. Once again his orcs filled the land of Mordor, and had already waged war on Gondor.
But before making rash decisions, he needed some answers and sat down by a table. His servant brought him pen and paper, and he wrote a letter. Then he thought of a trustworthy messenger. He remembered Melost, his kinsman, was also camped somewhere. He decided for some company.
He summoned one of the guards standing outside his tent:"Bring Melost to me, and his squire if he wishes, to have dinner with me tonight."
The guard bowed, and left.
Gil-galad leant back, and took a deep breath. He looked at his soldiers, a vast army of the finest elven troops. Here and there the sun was reflected by newly polished armour; He felt proud, knowing that all these men would follow him into death itself; but this feeling was soon replaced by a fear of what lay ahead. Gil-galad knew, that he was probably leading these men into death.
[ June 16, 2003: Message edited by: Daniel Telcontar ]
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Two beer or not two beer, that is the question; by Shakesbeer
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