A quick, inquisitive look flashes across Fingon's face as he realizes the figure before him is neither mortal child nor dwarf, but figuring out if the Valar forgot to mention the existence of yet another race of incarnates is probably not the most important matter at the moment.
"The fighting came earlier," he admits with a dry smile. "Unless the smith who made it walks through the door next, I suppose. She might have something to say about what I've done to it."
It occurs to him that the chief smith of the fortress of Barad Eithel is probably dead, along with most of the rest of their shared people. He suppresses the wince that comes with the thought.
"Do you work steel, then?" He steps aside and places the armor on the bed, the better to make use of their limited space. "I've more experience with using than making; I would appreciate a second opinion."
What Barcus will notice when the armor is laid out is that its maker knew their business. When whole, the armor was beautifully wrought, expertly shaped and inlaid with precious metals in a way that enhanced the design without inhibiting its function. The helm was tall, easily able to catch the eye on a crowded battlefield.
Now it's covered with burns and rent in multiple places with what must have been a large and very heavy axe. And the helm... well, the helm might make an interesting conversation piece. If you're of a morbid disposition.
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"The fighting came earlier," he admits with a dry smile. "Unless the smith who made it walks through the door next, I suppose. She might have something to say about what I've done to it."
It occurs to him that the chief smith of the fortress of Barad Eithel is probably dead, along with most of the rest of their shared people. He suppresses the wince that comes with the thought.
"Do you work steel, then?" He steps aside and places the armor on the bed, the better to make use of their limited space. "I've more experience with using than making; I would appreciate a second opinion."
What Barcus will notice when the armor is laid out is that its maker knew their business. When whole, the armor was beautifully wrought, expertly shaped and inlaid with precious metals in a way that enhanced the design without inhibiting its function. The helm was tall, easily able to catch the eye on a crowded battlefield.
Now it's covered with burns and rent in multiple places with what must have been a large and very heavy axe. And the helm... well, the helm might make an interesting conversation piece. If you're of a morbid disposition.