Vacation
folder
-Multi-Age › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
20
Views:
3,038
Reviews:
16
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
-Multi-Age › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
20
Views:
3,038
Reviews:
16
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Part 12
Part 12…
“Please tell me that wasn’t just luck?” Glorfindel jerked his head backwards in the general direction of Haldir.
“It was not just luck.”
“Wonderful, I had so hoped for a challenge.”
“I am more than willing to accommodate you.”
“Even better. Shall we?”
Manwë nodded and raised his sword, watching as Glorfindel mimicked the action.
Glorfindel swung his sword, aiming for the center of Poldórions chest, putting more power into the blow than he normally would on the first strike, having had time to watch and observe the large elf before him during his match with Haldir and consequently made a sufficient gauge of his strength. Sword met sword and Glorfindel grinned in a predatory manner as Poldós res resistance falter for barely a moment before he was pushing back with equal force. Glorfindel leaned in, holding his position until his breath hit the cool iron of the crossed blades, his eyes flashing in exhilaration.
“Do me a favor Poldórion…” A raised eyebrow in question. “Don’t hold back.”
“Why would you…”
“I watched your match with Haldir, remember? You were holding yourself back. Don’t.”
A nod of agreement and Glorfindel pulled back, allowing his sword to slide gratingly against its counterpart before taking two steps further back, watching in anticipation as Poldórion did the same. The two combatants kept eye contact and Glorfindel felt his pulse speed up in anticipation. Poldórion shifted his weight forward, only slightly but still enough for the famed Balrog slayer to notice and prepare for an attack.
A test of strength it seemed was pending. Two swords rose up and back over a shoulder. First one foot and then another stepped forward and both swords swung down to meet, the combination of momentum and brute strength meeting with the touch of two, simple iron blades, the echo of metal against metal hanging in the air for a moment of eternity as not a single soul dared to breathe.
The force of impact as his body hit the ground managed to steal the air from his lungs and he lay there, blinking in shock as he took mental stock of his current situation. Well that hadn’t gone quite as planned now had it? Blinking he looked up into worried silver eyes and attempted a wry grin.
“Are you all right? Did I hurt you?”
Glorfindel suppressed a groan as he accepted the offered assistance to stand and opened his mouth to assure the worried blonde that he was fine, pausing for a moment as he took in the others countenance. Worry mixed with a heavy amount of guilt and remorse.
“I’m fine, just didn’t expect… you pack a powerful wallop. My own fault for not expecting it.” Glorfindel smiled reassuringly before walking over to where his sword lay in the sand, fighting the blush that threatened to tinge his cheeks. Not only had he been knocked flat on his back, but he’d lost his grip on his sword.
Bending at the waist he curled his fingers around the handle and in one fluid motion picked up his weapon, straightened and turned to face his opponent again. Glorfindel tightened his grip until his knuckles showed white, determined to not drop his blade again.
Assuming a defensive stance he tightened his jaw and waited for Poldórion to make a move, knowing that he would no longer hold himself back. He’d been looking for a challenge for ages, and apparently he’d found one.
TBC…
“Please tell me that wasn’t just luck?” Glorfindel jerked his head backwards in the general direction of Haldir.
“It was not just luck.”
“Wonderful, I had so hoped for a challenge.”
“I am more than willing to accommodate you.”
“Even better. Shall we?”
Manwë nodded and raised his sword, watching as Glorfindel mimicked the action.
Glorfindel swung his sword, aiming for the center of Poldórions chest, putting more power into the blow than he normally would on the first strike, having had time to watch and observe the large elf before him during his match with Haldir and consequently made a sufficient gauge of his strength. Sword met sword and Glorfindel grinned in a predatory manner as Poldós res resistance falter for barely a moment before he was pushing back with equal force. Glorfindel leaned in, holding his position until his breath hit the cool iron of the crossed blades, his eyes flashing in exhilaration.
“Do me a favor Poldórion…” A raised eyebrow in question. “Don’t hold back.”
“Why would you…”
“I watched your match with Haldir, remember? You were holding yourself back. Don’t.”
A nod of agreement and Glorfindel pulled back, allowing his sword to slide gratingly against its counterpart before taking two steps further back, watching in anticipation as Poldórion did the same. The two combatants kept eye contact and Glorfindel felt his pulse speed up in anticipation. Poldórion shifted his weight forward, only slightly but still enough for the famed Balrog slayer to notice and prepare for an attack.
A test of strength it seemed was pending. Two swords rose up and back over a shoulder. First one foot and then another stepped forward and both swords swung down to meet, the combination of momentum and brute strength meeting with the touch of two, simple iron blades, the echo of metal against metal hanging in the air for a moment of eternity as not a single soul dared to breathe.
The force of impact as his body hit the ground managed to steal the air from his lungs and he lay there, blinking in shock as he took mental stock of his current situation. Well that hadn’t gone quite as planned now had it? Blinking he looked up into worried silver eyes and attempted a wry grin.
“Are you all right? Did I hurt you?”
Glorfindel suppressed a groan as he accepted the offered assistance to stand and opened his mouth to assure the worried blonde that he was fine, pausing for a moment as he took in the others countenance. Worry mixed with a heavy amount of guilt and remorse.
“I’m fine, just didn’t expect… you pack a powerful wallop. My own fault for not expecting it.” Glorfindel smiled reassuringly before walking over to where his sword lay in the sand, fighting the blush that threatened to tinge his cheeks. Not only had he been knocked flat on his back, but he’d lost his grip on his sword.
Bending at the waist he curled his fingers around the handle and in one fluid motion picked up his weapon, straightened and turned to face his opponent again. Glorfindel tightened his grip until his knuckles showed white, determined to not drop his blade again.
Assuming a defensive stance he tightened his jaw and waited for Poldórion to make a move, knowing that he would no longer hold himself back. He’d been looking for a challenge for ages, and apparently he’d found one.
TBC…