Goblin-Cleaver and Foe-Hammer
Orcs
"Uncle Bilbo?" Pippin peered over the countertop as Bilbo diced vegetables for stew.
"Yes, Pippin?"
"What was the name of Thorin's sword?"
"Orcrist; it was forged in Gondolin, you know. By Elves, long ago. The name means Goblin-cleaver. Orc is the Elvish word."
Pippin nodded, smiling triumphantly. "I knew it! I told Merry, but he says it was– was Galadring."
"Glamdring, you mean. That's Orcrist's mate. Gandalf still has it."
"Gandalf?" Pippin's eyes went round with awe. "When he visits next time, can I see it?"
Bilbo chuckled and reached for another carrot. "You'll have to ask him, my boy."
xxx
Smoke Rings and Mischief
Gandalf and Bilbo sat comfortably in the garden, blowing smoke rings out over the snapdragons. "So, your young cousins have been visiting?" Gandalf asked. "I imagine they enjoy your stories…"
"Certainly." Bilbo chuckled. "Pippin will be begging to see Glamdring, by the way."
"The young Took? I don't think I've seen him since I arrived." A dark blue smoke ring went sailing over the hedge.
Bilbo lowered his pipe. "That's odd. I hope he isn't up to mischief…"
From inside, they heard a muffled, metallic thump, followed by a yelp, and a few moments later Frodo exclaiming in exasperation, "Pippin!"