Gil-galad stood at his tent, looking after Melost and his squire as they left. It was still early morning, and he could feel the chill in the morning, the sun had not yet risen. Around him, the troops were awaking to a new day, some already busy with whatever duties they had.
Gil-galad paid little attention to them; his eyes followed the riders whom he had sent. He knew that Melost was reluctant to go, and he could identify with that feeling.
Right now he wished for nothing else to be back in Lindon. He could see the sun rising slowly above the Misty mountains. On such a day he might have gone out hunting.
But such was not be his fate. He had no choice but to face the threat to his people. And that had required of him to travel to Imladris. Duty was sometimes a heavy burden, yet a great relief to fulfill.
[ 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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