"I suppose so," laughed Curufin, pulling from the scabbard and holding up the sword he was carrying. "My pointy stick will never fail you!"

He looked at the sword. "Oh, this? This is one of the swords I collected on my first mission. The goblin folk who forged it aren't as good at metalsmithing as an Elven-smith would be, but they're pretty good." The sword was well-shaped, well-balanced, and razor-sharp. The scabbard was attractively ornate.

"But I'm going to order my own original sword from the train store. What a surprise, we can do that, now! My own sword is the one I made shortly before I first journeyed to Middle-earth and settled there. I'm a metalsmith by trade, as I've probably mentioned to you before. I specialize in weapons. I saw a meteor fall from the sky and land out in the plain of Valinor, not too far from the city where I was living at the time. Meteoric iron is a supreme material for a sword, as it is already fire-tested and will make a sword that will not break. So, I went and dug up the meteor and carted it home and forged my sword from it, and also swords for others. I carried that sword with me through four wars and numerous lesser confrontations. It was in my hand when I died. I miss it, and I want it."