Disclaimer: See chapter 1

FIVE FINWIONS MEET IN THE HIGHLANDS OF DORTHONION, WINTER, FIRST AGE 455, TO SETTLE A YEARLY CONTEST.

“I broke into the King’s cellars, surely it counts as an offence?”

“Only if Uncle got to know, Fingon”

“Oh!”

“So, Orodreth?”

“Yet unable to produce an heir, I fear.”

“Angrod?”

“Greeted Cirdan’s ambassador in Quenya…”

“Oh, brother! Aegnor?”

A sad gaze meets a compassionate one.

“I lost my bow. In a wager. Against an andreth.”

“Shameful!” 

“Piteous!”

“Pathetic!”

“Winsome!”

“Says who? It’s been years since you last did something truly embarrassing, Finrod!”

“Well, having us all expelled from Doriath gave me quite a lead, I’d say…”

“You win, Aegnor, you bring the wine! Same place, next year”

In winter, FA 455, the first assault of the Dagor Bragollach swept away Ard-Galen and part of Dorthonion. Angrod and Aegnor fell then.

A/N: Cause the saddest of goodbyes is the one you never get to say…. 

Word count: 100 words. Dec 2004