Vacation

Chapter Nine…


Manwë stood to the side of a large circular sand pit, normally used as the training ground but currently being utilized as a challenger arena where the advance sword fighting was presently taking place. For the sake of saving time the arena had been divided into two separate pits and the competitors had been placed into two groups of ten, the small number having surprised the Vala until he had been informed that there were few elves foolhardy enough to enter the advance fighting, and those that had were considered to be the top most fighters.

Manwë rotated his shoulders and flexed the muscles in his back and arms before picking up the sword that had been assigned to him for the duration of the tournament, carefully inspecting the blade. The sword was made of a sturdy iron, the blade having been made thicker than normal and blunted on both edges and the tip to prevent any serious injury, serious being loss of limb, as bruising and the occasional broken bone were not unheard of while sparring. Watching the most recently defeated elf limp from the arena, having received a jarring hit to his hip, Manwë had to admit that he was looking forward to getting into the ring.

Sword in rig right hand Manwë stepped back a ways from the group of elves waiting patiently for their turn and took a few practice swings, trying to get adjusted to the feel of the weapon, finding the weight to be slightly heavier and the blade itself almost a full two inches shorter than his personal sword. Ignoring the noises and activity about him he readjusted his grip and swung again, nodding slightly as the action felt better balanced and more comfortable. Glancing up at the line he saw there were three elves still in front of him and went back to focusing himself for the upcoming match, extremely glad that when the competitors were divided and numbers were drawn that placed the elves into a numerical order he had managed to draw the number ten, placing him last to spar and thereby affording him the time to familiarize himself with his weapon.

Two more before he was next. Stretching one last time Manwe once again moved into position and surveyed the crowd watching the match. His eyes found Lórien, located beside the Lord of the valley and he shook his head. Leave it to Lórien to find away to instigate himself on the main platform and engage the head elf in conversation. Continuing to scan the crowd his gaze lit upon Glorfindel, who was avidly watching the current match, and took a moment to asses the warrior. Glorfindel had already defeated the other nine warriors that had been assigned to his group and patiently waited for the second group to complete their matches so he could challenge the champion.

Grinning Manwë watched the last elf before him, a tall, lean blonde with more than a decent amount of muscle, enter the arena to face off against a slighter elf that had just finished defeating his opponent to claim the temporary title of champion. In a blink it was over, the dark haired elf was on his back, sword at his throat, and w tew temporary champion had been declared.

Tightening his grip on his sword Manwë squared his shoulders and stepped into the ring to face his opponent.


To Be Continued…