Duel

“Hail, miss!” The short freckled man leaning on a rock near the path hailed Enniliel loudly enough to pull her attention from turning over thoughts in her head.

The warlord didn't stay snarled in the debris for long, he was back on his feet. The boat churned and threw the fighters this way and that as the storm raged. Blood, seawater and rain were under Ryheric's boots and slippery at the grip of his sword, but he didn't falter now. Perhaps he couldn't. Retreat and fear were ripped away from him, just like anything he'd ever tried to keep. Everything was red and black, now. Wrath, hunger for blood and willful abandonment of control.

A glimpse into the past. A boy becomes a man.

Two men had been fighting all morn to settle a dispute, some grizzled old bastard had challenged a fresh recruit over the disappearance of some peaches. By the custom of their company, it would be settled accordingly.
 

The red sun shone behind his figure. He was dirty, he was panting, and blood was dripping down over his eye. The scimitar and the shield were left to the dirt, for he was far too dizzy to carry any weight aside from his own. But he was alive, and it was the best circumstance he could find himself in.

The sunlight slanted cold and bright through the window, as Makanárë roused herself and threw off the covers. The day had come, at last. Stretching one arm over her head, she arched her back and yawned. It had been so long since she had actually faced one of the Eldar in combat. It was sure to be amusing, though it would be over quite soon, if Nolomir's skills with the sword were what she deemed them to be. She set her face in an impassive expression and threw on an under-tunic, then began to arm herself.

Continuation of: Tales of Their Past - Fænge-Nædl

There was a chill in the night air as all the folk were returning to their homes. Many drunk from their drinking, and everyone else weary from their reveling. The dim lamps shone yellow upon the dirt paths and only two figures remained out that night. They stood side by side upon the path before the Mead hall, silent, still as statues.