The Glorious and Majestic Citadel of Guard

[Faron]

Ashuron decided that a change of tactic was in order, so he switched his attacks to those of a different nature. His sword strike were now those designed to draw away the King's hands from his chest, striking high and furious. Then, with feline grace, the Elven Lord sprang into the air, sending his entire body flying towards the King's chest, one foot outstretched to topple over the King of Men. Armor could protect him from Ashuron's swords, but could it save him from bashing his head against the floor?

[vanya]

The grey host of Mithlond traveled swift and in silence from the Pelagir to Minas Tirith, where they stayed for a short while, untill their Lady Vanya visited the Citadel of Guard. Vanya rode on her white steed up to the Citadel and dismounted in grace. She walked allone upstairs to the gate and asked for an audience with the King. The guardians were stunned of her presence and lead her to the throne. Vanya bowed deep before King and Queen and said: "Elen sila lumenn omentilmo, Tar-Elessar a Bereth-Arwen. I am coming not for councel, but to hail to you and to ask friendly you for permission for my host and me, to make our way through Gondor. We are in a hurry and will not bother your fair folk for long. An urgent matter draws us to aid Erebor against the raising of the new evil."

[Envin]

Aragorn was of course aquainted with the fair Lady Vanya, but at the moment his time was rather distracted by the twain swords spinning in front of him. "Athelich, Vanya?" he chuckled, glancing at her when he might. She laughed in return, for of old have they been comrades. "Guren linna gen cened. Of course thou hast ever permission in my realm. I would welcome thee, but, well -" and he pointed to Ashuron, and she chuckled.

Aragorn was not such an ordinary man as to be caught off his balance, for years of hardihood in the wild and served him well, and he had not learnt nothing in the War of the Ring. He with swift ease was able to deflect the high and aimless blows of the Elf, and was astute enough to realize that these were pointless, and so poised himself for attack by means else. And when the Elf came charging at his chest, he merely gracefully stepped aside, and struck Ashuron hard upon the backside with the flat of his sword. The whole room chuckled at the Elf's indignity, and Aragorn spun around for another assault.


The timing isn't exactly correct for me to answer Vanya while fighting Ash, since we'd all be in Erebor, but we'll overlook it this time. ;D

[vanya]

(Well, not my fault that you have this weird fights here. And at least Arwen would be supposed to be here.)

[Faron]

The whole room did not laugh at the elf's indignity, for Arken the wolf barked in fury and Ashuron himself laughed at Aragorn. "Do you have the strength to do more than block and land meaningless strikes upon my posterior, Aragorn, King of Gondor?" Ashuron said as he backflipped back at the King, starting by slicing downwards with both his swords and then bringing both his feet down at his target.

[Envin]

"Oh, surely ye jest!" Aragorn exclaimed, throwing Arken a very nasty gesture. "This is my good robe, and I had thought not to break a sweat here. Would not have been difficult, but as ye wish." As Ashuron flipped backwards at him, Aragorn threw himself into a crouch, and rolled forward, swiping at Ashuron from behind as he went. Then he leapt up in mid-roll and spun about as he jumped, bringing Anduril clean at Ashuron's shoulder with such force as the Elf had hardly ever seen, the blade rushing through the air with a deep noise. Just as that stroke landed, Aragorn spun around to the right, and circled Ashuron's left flank, dealing swift strikes at his legs, and then at his back and left shoulder as he completely ran about the Elf, his speed a blur. And the instant he arrived back in front of Ashuron, he swung upward with Anduril to catch both of his blades in a high parry, and lashed out incredibly hard with his heavy mail boot, aimed right for Ashuron's stomach.

[Faron]

Aragorn's first several attacks hit their targets, at least in some amount as the Elven Lord was adept at dodging to lessen force. Then, Ashuron pushed his body forward, catching Aragorn's boot in his stomach and wincing slightly, then brought one sword-arm down to hook under the King's leg and hold it suspended in the air while his other sword blocked the King's sword. "No matter what robes you wear, I was still hoping for a good duel, for I allowed you to pick the time; you could have worn another outfit, which I'm sure would have taken you and your servants an hour to coordinate." Then quickly, Ashuron pushed upward with the arm holding up the King's leg, while adding force pressing onto Anduril, so that the King's monopod form held little chance of not tumbling to the floor.

[Envin]

Just as quickly, and with little thought for himself, Aragorn pushed down with his leg, robed only in light cloth and leather, onto the sword Ashuron wielded, and cut his calf rather deeply. Blood dripped onto the floor as Aragorn slammed his leg down, and spun away several feet, disentangling Anduril. "'Twill be no matter. I do not care for this robe, at any rate. Perhaps thou wouldst care for it - much better stuff that thine, as it looks to me. See, this leg has a pretty red colour!" And he flashed Ashuron a grin that was both laughable and rather disturbing. And he launched himself at the Elf, Anduril flashing in a swift pattern that ws classical to swordplay, and Ashuron was perplexed at its usage - it was easy to defend against it. The final stroke was to lunge straight for the foe's breast, and as Ashuron swept one of his swords to parry the blow, Aragorn suddenly pulled Anduril back, and swung the greatsword swiftly completely behind him and over his head, he brought it straight down with incredible force at Ashuron's sword - not to strike him, but to relieve him of one blade.

[vanya]

Vanya smiled and walked over to Arwen, who was sitting in a corner to watch the fight better. Both woman huged each other and settled down to see who would win.

[Faron]

Ashuron's sword met the King's and there was a mighty clatter, followed by a crack, and then another clatter as half of the sword broke and struck the ground. Ashuron quickly tossed the broken blade aside, which Arken quickly nabbed and guarded. Wielding the second sword in one hand, he stooped down to pick up the broken sword-shard with one hand and head-butt the King while he was at it, as well as aim his sword at the King's leg.

[Envin]

Aragorn made a face at Arken, and stepping aside he met Ashuron's strike by kicking his wrist with the heel of his boot, and as Ashuron rose from taking up the shard, Aragorn brought Anduril down at the Elf's shoulders, stepping back as he did so so that no spin strike from Ashuron could reach him, and he was just distant enough so that only a few inches of Anduril descended to Ashuron's shoulder, with the full, entire strength of both Aragorn's arms behind the blow.

[Faron]

A line appeared down Ashuron's shoulder steadily growing redder, until at last a torent of blood flowed forth. "I'm told that it is an orcish act to fall into a blood-rage when one's own blood is spilt," Ashuron said, slowly rising from his crouched, head-butting position, "But then the legends tell us that the elves became the first orcs themselves so its really in my blood. However, I hear you are no stranger to cursed bloodlines." Ashuron charged forward, gripping the shard of his sword tightly in one hand so that his hand gushed blood, and brandished both shard and sword with an terrifying speed and skill. But no glimpse of the beauty of the Elven Race could be seen within Ashuron's eyes, only what he refered to as his blood-wrath. Ashuron began this duel, and he would end it, though all the free peoples be cursed by Aragorn's death.

[Envin]

Aragorn nodded at the poor attempt of an insult proffered him by Ashuron, but said naught, and prepared himself for an onslaught, for he had dwelt with Elves for much of his life, and though it was rare, he had beheld the blood-rage before now, and it was a terrible thing to behold. There would be a method even to this madness, and if he kept himself from panic, then he would withstand it. His eyesight was keen and his reflexes swift, and though here and there Ashuron successfully landed a hit and drew blood, none of these were very serious, and Aragorn deflected the remainder of the blows. He danced as he moved and parried, his footwork flawless and the motions of his arms sound. His sword flashed with greater speed even than Ashuron's twain, for it must needs defend against two, verily singing in the echoing hall, the ring and crash of steel upon steel rebounding from wall and pillar. Aragorn spun and dodged, ducked into crouches and leapt high into the air, oft finding a small instant where he might deal a strike at Ashuron - now at his head and then here at his arm, and so unbalance his attack. He would complete this struggle, but he would not slay the Elflord - a valuable ally would he be. And so when Ashuron dealt a powerful attack at Aragorn's head with the blade-shard, he ducked low and stepped aside, swinging the flat of Anduril about, slapping hard the hand that held the shard and driving the steel even further into the flesh of the Elf. Then he rolled aside to the right and leapt up spinning about, ready to counter another assault.

[Faron]

Ashuron rushed forward, sword and shard at the ready, and with a mighty battle-cry of Elvish, gave one more flurry of blows, of which he never could complete. Half-way through the mighty gale of blades, he fell to ground, tongue out and panting like his wolfish companion. He had invested too much energy in the past few minutes, gone completly into his blood-driven mind. So it's true the Elven Lord thought, The power of the Elves truly is begining to fade. I've been blinded by pride and excess just like a Man or Dwarf. His swords (what was left of them) fell to the ground, out of his blood-stained hands. Curse you, Aragorn, for being a better man than me, and perhaps a better warrior. With that, the Elven Lord passed out from excessive blood loss. Arken leaped forward from his corner and stood over his master, licking the blood from his wounds, and it was hard to tell whether he loved the taste of blood or whether he simply loved his master.

[Envin]

Aragorn lowered his sword and wiped beads of sweat from his forehead. He had counted on Ashuron allowing his rage to last longer than he should have, and overtaxing himself. He lowered his sword and knelt beside Ashuron, patting Arken on the head (and receiving a nasty glance and a snap at the hand from the wolf), and took Ashuron up in his arms and gave him to the guards who stood nearby, bidding them bear him to the Houses of Healing; Ashuron would return as soon as his wounds were bound. Arken followed, but not after being appeased by clearing the floor of AShuron's blood. Aragorn chuckled, and with a wry glance inspected his robe, which was now rather torn. He signed to a servant to bring him some clean garments and bandages, and until they arrived, he tore a shred of cloth from his robe and bound several of his deeper cuts with it. He sat down in his seat with the other rulers again, and the only sign of the past exertion was perhaps that he breathed a bit faster now. "A goodly fight, I must say," he commented. "That fellow had has much training, it is simple to see. He would be more than a match for many of Middle-earth's finest warriors. Hopefully I have convinced him that to join us is to in the end prove victorious. Now, of what were we speaking?"