Today I went to market to buy a hauberk. The dwarf showed me many fine ones, and one was very similar to the black and silver chainmail that the warriors in my order wear, but I could not afford it. I asked to see something less flashy and bright, because, I said, I would not stand out as gaudy as a goblin. Then he put it away, and showed me several other hauberks, but I could not afford these either, so I said they were not fit for this reason or that. Finally, he grumblingly went over to a cabinet in the corner, and from the bottommost drawer pulled out a shirt and leggings made of interwoven iron links, and they were black in some parts, but much worn, and somewhat brownish from rust. The dwarf said it was seventy-five silvers altogether.
It was an outrage, I told him, to charge that high a price for worn, squeaky armour, all the while thinking to myself that I could clean it up, and add some oil, and burnish the rings until the iron sparkled, or, if iron cannot sparkle, at least gleam a little brighter. And, after a long while, I bargained the price down to twenty silvers for the shirt, and thirty-five for the legs, until the dwarf thrust his beard out at me, and glowered underneath his beetle brows, and refused to go any lower. I hemmed and hawed, and said that perhaps I was not so interested after all, and that I thought I would rather look at some eating-knives, and that I was looking for a very particular sort of eating-knife. Then the dwarf muttered something about fussy Elves, which I did not quite hear, and offered to clean the rust off for nothing, if I would only go away, so I agreed to this gladly.
However, he told me that I would have to come back for my armour later, or, if I wished, he would wrap it up and have it sent to the house. I was in great doubt what to do. It was such a dear thing to buy, and took much of my coin that I saved from my fish-trading, that I did not want to spend more money for postage, and I did not wish to leave it there, or I would return, and this dwarf would deny selling it to me, and then I would be left with nothing. So I said I would take it with me, and clean the rust off myself. And then it occurred to me that I should try the armour on first, before giving the dwarf any money.
This chain armour is not at all like a cloth shirt and pants. There is no easy way to tell which is the front or back of the tunic, so I put it on backwards - a mistake anyone would do, and the back neck of the shirt came up to my mouth. I told the dwarf that it was very poorly constructed, and I had changed my mind. He told me to take it off, so I did, and then he showed me the bindings, which fasten along the back, not the front as I had supposed. So I put it back on, and found the shirt very heavy, and felt as though I were clapped in irons. It jingled most awfully as I walked, and the rings reminded me of the scales of the deadly forest viper, one of the most poisonous creatures in the Greenwood.
I thought the armour became me, and made me very fine and handsome, and a very fearsome-looking personage, and not someone to be trifled with! Then I put on the leggings, and these were even harder to wear than the shirt, and made it mightily hard to walk; the rings were pinching so cold and cruelly into my flesh. I cried to the dwarf that it would have to be adjusted, for it needed more rows of rings added to the fork of the legs, else I would never be able to sit down. This dwarf laughed long and loud, and told me that I would wear a shirt and breeches underneath of the softest cloth, so it would not pinch and chafe. Then he leered at me, and asked if I had ever worn armour before. Of course I have, I told him, but I am unused to wearing this particular style that you strange folk seem to be born into. Thus satisfied with my purchase, I was eager to leave at once, so I quickly took it off, and the dwarf wrapped the armour in brown paper, which I carried back to the house, my head full of plans.
