Nargothrond

On the banks of river Narog, a group of elves stood guard around an entourage of Nargothrondim including princess Finduilas and Lord Celebrimbor. It was the princess' idea that they would take a breath of fresh air, away from the heat and smoke of the forge for him and away from court intrigue for her, away from any dark thoughts that the recent turmoil caused by the death of King Finrod might bring. Said group of elves from the city had spread towels, picnic baskets and were enjoying the chill of the water, some swimming, a couple fishing.

Carniquesse didn't like the city. She didn't like any city, not Nargothrond not the ones on the coast and not even the citadel-fortress of Dorthonion her homeland. Cities felt constricting for someone like her grown up in the vastness of mountain pine forests and while yes, she did call Nargothrond "home" what she really meant was the land surrounding it, not the system of caves themselves. 

           In which Liltarë Gelilthor of Nargothrond thinks that the coming of Turin Turambar is obviously a good portent, teases her brother, and thinks dancing is the ideal way to test a spear. 

Arradril worked alone, as she normally preferred. Tonight's project was a sheath for her favorite boot dagger. The single-edged weapon was not her largest, nor her longest, nor yet was it her oldest -- so it was no painful reminder of fair Ondolindë. It was not even balanced for throwing; given the alarming upward curve of the blade, and the solid hiltward weighting, Arradril reckoned that any attempt to fling it would end in a loud thud.

Carniquessë stood in a darkened corner at the end of the farthest wall in the throne room, near the great carved wooden doors left slightly ajar so guards could come and go at the end (or start) of their shift. Her company was supposed to be off duty as for the occasion they were given leave to return to Nargothrond from the plains and attend Princess Finduilas’ begetting day ceremony. Luckily for her comrades, who all seemed to enjoy themselves scattered here and there in the crowd, unluckily for her.

Disaster.

It was a disaster from the start. The scouts tasked with reconnaissance along the northern borders reported the enemy’s army to be of “manageable” size, whatever the hells that meant when there was a dragon among them. The horde they were facing however was way, way larger than expected, yet despite this the host of Nargothrond went forth with King Artaresto leading alongside Túrin. Needless to say none could withstand the assault of the dragon Glaurung and the elves were driven back into the field of Tumahalad.

Carniquessë suppressed a yawn, perched atop the rocky outcrop making up of one of the hidden watchposts scattered all around the plains of Tumhalad. It seemed a morning like many others: sun high in the sky, white clouds rolling lazily in the blue sky and a gentle breeze swaying the blades of grass below.