One stood just a stone's throw away, his bright helm gleaming in the moonlight.

The Moranth female tilted her bright helm.

Then, with his last breath, the noble Hector of the bright helm addressed his pitiless foe: Achilles!

She had her dark cloak over her mail, and the hood of it hid her bright helm, and we two were cloaked also.

We could see that they were all armed, and the sun flashed from the bright helms as they rose and fell at the work.