The Book of Short Tales by Lyra

B2MeM '13 - March 18 - Debts Repaid

Once again, this one began life for B2MeM '12 (B15 - Dwarves in the First Age: Azaghâl gives Maedhros the Dragon-helm) and then languished in my WiP folder. But it kind of fits the B2MeM prompt for March 18 (battle-gear of the Dwarves for the Nirnaeth Arnoediad), so I brought it to a close.

Before the Nirnaeth, Azaghâl brings Maedhros a rich token of his gratitude.

Debts Repaid

A mis-matched pair had met a little way from the warriors' training ground, not quite out of earshot: the ringing of blades and the occasional shouts of encouragement or frustration could still be heard. One of them was an elf-lord, tall even for one of his kind, with short copper hair and gilded armour. The other was a dwarf-lord, stunted and sturdy, with long curly raven-black hair and an equally long beard, braided and adorned with clasps of steel and copper.
"Your armour was not made for you, or it was ill made," Azaghâl said disapprovingly when they had finished their formulaic greetings.
"Astutely observed, Master Azaghâl," Maedhros said. "You are right, of course; this used to be my father's armour."
Azaghâl nodded. "A craftsman sees such things. It is too short and too wide. Does it not hinder you?"
"I can't say I've noticed that it does," Maedhros said calmly. "I am used to it."
"Hmpf," said Azaghâl. "Use is, of course, every warrior's friend. Still, you should take care of those vulnerable spots."
Maedhros half-bowed. "I shall."
"That includes your head," the dwarf-lord said. "I have brought you a token of gratitude in return for my rescue." He held out a round object, wrapped in soft leather and cerecloth. "This helmet was made by Telchar himself. I want you to wear it."
He continued to hold the helmet so that Maedhros could unwrap it single-handedly; then he handed it over. Maedhros held it up reverently. It was at once beautiful and fearsome, made of supple steel inlaid with gold and engravings in the angular style of the Naugrim. It had been crafted to resemble the head of a dragon, the gaping jaws forming the faceguard. After the manner of the Dwarves, it came with an iron face-mask. Maedhros imagined how the burnished iron would shroud the wearer's face in darkness, making his eyes shine all the brighter.
"It is an amazing piece of work," he acknowledged. "Do you think it will suit me right?"

Azaghâl snorted. "Better than no helmet at all."
With a wry smile, Maedhros asked, "Do you know why I ride into battle without a helmet, Azaghâl?"
"Because you Golodhrim are damned proud fools," Azaghâl said, "no offense meant."
Maedhros raised an eyebrow, perhaps wondering how 'damned proud fool' could be inoffensive in any language, and said, "I ride without my helmet so the enemy will know who I am."
"Damned proud fools, as I said," Azaghâl repeated, without rancor. "Trust me, the enemy knows exactly who you are, helmet or no. Meanwhile, you're risking your head. Mighty useful, heads. You'd miss it if it were gone." For a split second, his eyes flicked down to Maedhros' right wrist. "It's not like you have one to spare."
Maedhros laughed at that, loud and with genuine amusement. "Wisely spoken, oh Azaghâl. I shall follow your advice, then, and protect the dearest head I have."
Azaghâl nodded in approval. "Do that. The helmet will suit you well enough. Your hair will be the dragon's fire."
Maedhros bowed, his eyes still twinkling with mirth. "I am in your debt, Azaghâl."
"You saved my head," Azaghâl retorted, "I have repaid my debt. When the helmet thwarts two arrows or blows - then you'll be in my debt."
Sobering, Maedhros said, "That may happen very soon."
"Yes," Azaghâl said, "I know. The smithies of Nogrod and Belegost are at your service."
"And for that, I truly owe you," Maedhros said. "Let no-one say the Dwarves are not a generous people."