This accusation was a new one, something perhaps he did not expect coming. Stupidity. No, he wasn't stupid; Gaël wasn't raised to be an idiot. The yearling had a sense of honor that instead was unlikely to resort to violence when he didn't need to. Despite his attack on his father and determination to learn skills in combat to eventually take the one-armed cyclops down, Gaël was a nonviolent being; a gentle giant of sorts, now being thrown to the ground by an expected, direct attack.
He grunted audibly at the blunt throb of his spine against the ground, pinned by the still-stranger and his nonsense. No, not pinned... Gaël was much bigger, but their strength had to be somewhere near to equal. Lying on his back put the yearling in too vulnerable a position -- this was much too dangerous to continue through peacefully. He would not fight, but he would not let himself be abused to no end by short-seeing idiots, either. Grinding his teeth together, the circlet-eyed yearling hissed through his teeth distastefully and finally raised his hand, aiming his fingers at the stranger's throat. A grab and a toss would be all it took; then he would get to his feet once more, and the idiot could continue to throw blows and punches until he grew tired and tried to make sense of it all.