Release the Bonds of Winter by Dawn Felagund

The Bridge

From their far journeys they brought tidings of a great mustering of Orcs and evil creatures under the eaves of Ered Wethrin and in the Pass of Sirion; and they told also that Ulmo had come to Cí­rdan, giving warning that great peril drew nigh to Nargothrond.
"Of Túrin Turambar"

Túrin ponders the imminent arrival of Morgoth's army and the necessity of destroying the bridge to Nargothrond.

There is still a bite of winter on the wind. I stand upon the bridge, feet planted wide, and survey the shore of the Narog.

Behind me, I sense Orodreth, though he speaks not. He won't, for though he is learned as was his brother, clever words are only half of that required to convince me to destroy the bridge built by my own hands: The rest is the courage to speak them. Once, I asked Orodreth what was his greatest asset as King?--and mercy, he replied.

Mercy will not hold him in battle, yet it may bring Morgoth to his door.

At my side, Gurthang hangs heavy with the weight of my deeds. Sometimes, I wonder, do I list when I walk? Bitter laughter bubbles to my lips; is bitten back. One day, I will face Morgoth. One day, the sword washed in the blood of a friend will taste the ichor of the Gods and let Morgoth fall heavy on that day from what he has wrought of me.

Orodreth draws a shivering breath. He means to speak. To protest.

My bridge is strong beneath my feet.

And I whisper upon the bitter wind, "Let them come."