New Challenge: Potluck Bingo
Sit down to a delicious selection of prompts served on bingo boards, created by the SWG community.
During the four hundred years or so of relative peace between the Dagor Aglareb and Bragollach, Morgoth sent forth the dragon Glauring from Angband. To begin with, Glaurung was small and young, and little more than a pest. The first time I laid eyes on the dragon was whilst on an orc-raid with the dwarf-lord Azaghâl and some others of his kin, with whom I was a friend and ally. Glaurung had attacked us from the air out of nowhere, striking down two of Azaghâl's companions in one swoop. The second would have taken Azaghâl too, but I managed to push him aside and strike the dragon's belly with my blade as it flew close past us. I did not cause great injury to Glaurung but it was painful enough to drive him away and he fled.
It was just a little thing, all I really did was shove the dwarf out of the way, but Azaghâl insisted that I had saved his life and, to the Naugrim, that is a feat of great honour. He insisted on repaying me grandly.It was perhaps three months later, as winter was setting in at Himring, that Azaghâl returned with a gift for me. In a presentation of great ceremony before a whole host of Naugrim that had accompanied him, not to mention several of my own brothers and my cousin Findekano, I was awarded the famous Dragon-Helm of Dor Lomin.
It was, I swear, the ugliest thing I've ever laid eyes on, before or since.
I tried to keep a straight face because Azaghâl was so serious about it's value, stressing that it had been made by the finest smith of their people. And indeed it was well-made of the finest steel and gold, with a delicately-wrought replica of Glauring himself sitting on the crest, the gold wings embracing the sides of the helm and the head raised up above the visor. But, being made for a naugrim head, it was several sizes too big for me to wear, and so heavy I feared that if I moved my head to quickly my neck might snap. And it was indeed quite hideous to look upon. The twins laughed themselves into a heap on the floor. Findekano, ever the diplomat and concerned that the dwarves might be offended by either Ambarussa's laughter or my speechlessness, told Azaghâl that he thought the helm was magnificent, and that he liked it very much.
So I sent the dragon-helm to Hithlum the following spring, as a gift for Findekano's next begetting-day. I gather Kano kept it hidden away in a trunk for about a hundred years. The next time I saw it was when Findekano granted the lordship of Dor Lomin to the House of Hador. It had seemed apt that the Dragon-helm should return to it's homeland. From the look on Hador's face when he took hold of the helm (and almost dropped it on his own foot) he thought it as ugly as I did.
The third and last time I saw the helm was at the Nirnaeth Arnoediad. I was astounded that anyone but a dwarf was able to wear the thing in battle, and more so that anyone should display such bad taste as to be wiling to wear it in public. I later found that the helm's wearer was Turin Turamabar, great-grandson of Hador who had received the helm from Findekano. Apparently Turin's predecessors had had better taste than Turin himself.
Still, Turin fought well, even against Glaurung himself who was by now much bigger and stronger. He seemed an intimidating assailant, and he survived the battle where many others of my house and his did not. "He'll slay Glaurung one day, wearing that helm," Macalaure said to me, watching him thoughtfully. And three decades later he did, though he died shortly after and I never found out what had become of that ugly helm.
With any luck, it got melted down and used for cooking pots.