Along came a dragon. Almost everyone ends up in Mandos. Except for Turin, who lives to infect a whole lot of other folks with his family curse. Yes, this is the last, very short chapter of the Nargothrond Pillowbooks.

The Final Stand

Year 494

Turin

Oh goody, we finally have a fine battle to look forward to. I do hope I will make my father proud (not that I remember much about him). I do wonder if I can sneak a visit to my golden princess' boudoir before we march out. Or should we wait until after the glorious victory?

I must go sharpen my sword. It thirsts for orc-blood. Is my helm polished yet?

Poetry? Why bother with that stuff?

List of things to bring into battle:

Really cool elvish sword

Fancy armour and helm

Fancy banner to ride under (well, some page can carry that)

Shield

Mighty elvish steed

Waterskin and rations

A change of clothes (cannot ride home in victory all covered with muck and blood)

Gwindor

I suppose I should count my blessings that since they are mustering men for a great battle, I have been recalled from the kitchens. My old comrade mentioned something about me being of more use (even without a hand) than some of the featherbrain lordlings His Majesty put in charge. I haven't heard from Finduilas in a while. Wonder if she still remembers me?

Things to get from armoury

Sword

Shield (will need someone to tie it on my arm)

Armour (basic model will do)

Oh, am I entitled to a horse?

Orodreth

Oh dear me, dearie me. I do hope I can make my Atto proud today. An actual battle. I hope it goes much better than that last one, which I seem to recall riding for safety so hard, I had saddle sores. Does this new breastplate suit me? The new boots I commissioned last month still pinch something fierce, I hope it will not affect my riding.

Afterwards, I will talk to the Council about bringing forward my little girl's wedding. Who's the groom again?

Finduilas

Tell me what is fun about getting news of a massing of orcs on our doorstep. Is it too late to sing that bridge into the river? Does anyone still remember how to go about that?

Why are you lads treating this like a summer picnic-outing? Manwe above! I thought only my ladies are capable of such flea-brained nonsense. This is a battle – folks get killed (if they are lucky). Not some grand soiree where you can show off your new armour! Hello, is anyone listening? No, I am not fussing about what silks to wear when that Man rides back in victory. Argh! What in Lord Ulmo's name is going on here?

Is it too late to look for an escape route from this city other than the damned bridge? Did Uncle Finrod put in a back door or something in the cellars?

Author's Notes:

And Finrod rolls over in his grave at news a dragon has moved into his city thanks to his nephew forgetting that 'hidden' part of the entire venture.