Doderic wears some patchwork leather, along with a helmet that loosely fits on his head, causing it to tilt loosely to the side. The helmet and shield are both a good quality at least. He still munches on a bit of the breakfast.
Can't go around do things and what not without a good meal in your belly! Can't wait to participate in this melee game!. He looks up to the others with a grin.
"Wise words from one so small!" The massive sandy-haired man in black turns as the group walks past, all decked out for the competition. A wide, friendly smile crosses his face and he sheathes his sword to free his hands. "A surprise to see a halfling joining the spectacle, but a welcome one none the less." He offers a hand to each of the members of the small company in turn. "I'm Ormod, captain of the Black Company. A pleasure to meet you."
Celebhend grasps the captain's arm in a local greeting among warriors, "Captain Ormod, mae govannen! Tales of the deeds of the Black Company have reached even fair Lothlorien these last few years. My heart is made glad to meet you."
"Ormod the Mighty, a name that resounds at least as far as the Anduin Vale. I am Hartgard, known as the Quiet, of the Beornings and I consider this good company."
He shakes the large mans hands. AH, well you would be surprised, us hobbits are quite wise when it comes to things, though many would say us tooks are the less so. Doderic Took, actually, my friend. And I came not just to see the sights I've heard much about, but experience things as well. Can't rightly experience things from a stand I wager, though likely I'll end up in them soon enough with warriors like all of you around! He looks to Ormod and the others.
Baìn looks up to the man in joy.
"Master Ormod, great to see you participating again.
Each year I am more impressed with your display.
You bring great honour to the King and your men."
Baìn will govern the introduction of everyone, such that in the end nobody know who everyone is - as usual in such circumstances.
Ormod laughs jovially and claps Hartgard on the shoulder. "Are they still calling me that? You'd think my men would have better things to do than spread stories about an old man." He shakes his head. "But it's I who should be glad to see so many traveling from distant lands to take part. It does me great honor to see so many warriors of skill here."
"Well now this is embarrassing, they seem to know you well yet place your name I cannot." Wulfgith admitted with a slight shrug. "Though if those here are impressed, then I look foreword to seeing why." She said politely.
"It is an honour to join. I would see the skill of all here with my own eyes."
The man seems about to continue speaking, but then the group can hear another bell beginning to ring and the warriors all begin to gather in the arena. "Well, it seems that you're about to have the chance my friend," Ormod says with a chuckle. "The melee seems about to begin. We shouldn't keep the king waiting."
Most of the group heads into the arena to take their places while Celebhend finds a front row seat where he can watch his friends. The gathered warriors fall silent as two guards in the livery of the king's men take up positions in a large viewing box overlooking the stadium. There's a moment of silence as two figures enter the box. King Bard of Dale is not as young as he once was. He still stands tall and proud, but the wrinkles around his eyes seem deeper than ever before and his dark hair is beginning to take a few streaks of grey. His wife, on the other hand, is still as lovely as ever. Queen Una stands radiant next to him, one arm gently set across his as they enter the box. Behind them, King Dain of the Lonely Mountain, and the ambassadors from the Anduin Vale, the Ridermark, Woodland Hall, and further still all file in behind him, taking their seats surrounding the king and queen's tall chairs. "It does my heart good to see so many have gathered here today," the king begins, his voice ringing out over the hushed crowd. "It has been twenty years since war has visited our lands. But we people of the North have not been idle. Our greatest gather here today to remember the battles of the past, and to test yourselves so that we do not fall to battle yet to come." He raises his hand. "Let the melee begin!" The crowd roars as the men of the Black Company quickly begin calling names and and the warriors settle back to watch their fellows duel as they wait their turns.
Hartgard moves more swiftly than his bulk might suggest, though less so than some here. He seeks out a worthy opponent to face
Doderic looks around at the crowd watching him with a wide grin on his face, his helmet loosely fitting his head. Well! This is quite the exciting thing inn'it! He glances around and moves swiftly and silently, possibly to catch someone by surprise.
Doderic skips up. I'll have a wee go if'n thats fine. Don't matter who against,
As King Daìn Ironfoot greets the collected people, Baìn will bow deep in the typical way of the dwarves.
Once King Bard signals for the games to start, he will take a proud step forward, awaiting a challenger.
With the sheer number of warriors seeking to prove themselves, several fights are held at a time, each spread out around the large arena so that they don't interfere with each other. The party quickly find themselves called to the various rings marked on the earth to face off against their opponents.
Hartgard finds himself paired with a large woman dressed in heavy furs and leathers, carrying an ax like those from the Woodsmen of the south.
Bain is paired with the elven spearman who you saw practicing earlier. Seeing him fully ready for battle, the dwarf recognizes the armor of the elf king's guard on his opponent, though the elf does not speak as they enter the arena together.
Wulfgith is paired against a tall man carrying a large, curved ax with hair and eyes both black as night. A carefully drawn marking in blue war paint around his eye implies the man hails from the Dunlend Fells, though if he recognizes her as a Rider of Rohan, he makes no sign of it.
Doderic finds himself the only one paired against an opponent from Dale itself. A man dressed in the armor of Dale's guard and carrying a longsword and heavy round shield takes his place across from the hobbit. "I wasn't aware that dwarves shaved," he says with a chuckle. "Did you lose a bet with someone?"
Hartgard sizes up his opponent, not assuming weakness, not in this arena.
Hartgard maintains an open stance, and swings his great axe before his opponent can bring her own weapon to bear.
A fight is indeed often won with a single blow, but it is not always the first.
Though he is naturally interested in all the bouts his new friends will fight, Celebhend gravitates to the area where Wulfgith is to fight, cheering her on.
Wulfgith looked her opponent over before give a small smile. "Interesting one." She commented. "Let us see how this goes no?"
Doderic smiles to the man. No dwarf here, just a good ole' hobbit. I've taken some lessons in the play of the swords since me last bout. But surin' I'm no match for you friend. Anyway, lets start this show whatdoyasay?
He rushes forward, a lot quicker than his short legs would seem to be able to carry him before batting at the mans defenses and then him with his shortsword.
Being pitted with an Elf feels all but ideal to Baìn, considering the often ill-fated relations of their kin.
Nevertheless, he bows his head slightly to acknowledge and honour his opponent, before raising his mattock high and charges straight at the elf and his spear.
"Baruk Khazâd!"
The traditional war cry of the dwarves booms inside the arena, the voice of the merchant now deep and grinding like distant thunder or a rock avalanche.
Baìn throws a powerful swing against his opponent that will leave him wide open for a return strike - should his opponent remain standing that is.
A pall of ill fortune seems to settle over the arena as the party make their moves, blades swinging out at their opponents. Their blades seem to find nothing but air and their opponents slip away with ease. However, Bain foe is far less fortunate. With a mighty cry, the dwarf raises his mattock and hammers down on the elf's guard. Unprepared for the strength of the dwarf warrior, he can't get the haft of his spear up fast enough to avoid the heavy pick driving straight into his side. Though his armor doesn't quite manage to take the blow, leaving him bleeding and staggered.
Hartgard's opponent doesn't seem much more interested in speaking than he is. She adjusts her stance slightly to take advantage of his stumble and swings her own ax at him, aiming to deliver a stunning blow with the edge rather than going for a kill shot.
"Indeed," the Dunlending says as he tightens his grip on the ax. "I will not hold back against one such as you." He suddenly lashes out, delivering a stunning strike straight to her sternum. She can feel her armor shudder under the impact.
The Dale man raises his shield and repels Doderic's attack with relative ease. "Truly? I don't believe I've met one of your kind in person. No offense intended master Hobbit. Perhaps we can have a drink after I win." He raises his sword and aims a pommel strike at the fast moving Hobbit. However, the crafty Shireman dodges around the strike with ease.
The elf looks less than pleased that he let his guard drop against a dwarf of all people. "For the Woodland Realm!" He retaliates with a swift stab, aiming to strike through the dwarf's guard now that he's in close. His blow is far clumsier than one would expect from an elf, perhaps due to his new wound, but he still manages to get a glancing blow on Bain. The dwarf retaliates with a second strike, closing in to deliver the finishing shot. The elf seems to realize that he's left himself open the moment before Bain slams the blunt edge of his mattock against the side of his head and he drops into unconsciousness.
Doderic frowns slightly, wondering what exactly he did wrong with the strike before shrugging it off.
Eh, no offense taken, we hobbits have a habit of normally tending to ourselves, and no getting out and about. Much less any fightin', but, I'm a wee different than most.
He tries to set his footing right, but the more he thinks about it, the more off it feels. Particularly since he can't rightly think at the time.
Feeling a pall of doom threatening to fell him, Hartgard is tempted for the briefest of moments to accept that he will lose.
NO.
He crushes the thought, and swings the flat side of his great axe at his opponent.
With a quick flickering of the eye, Celebhend notices the strange run of ill fortune that has passed among his friends. Would that there was something I could do to aid them without disqualifying them...
Wulfgith thanked her armor before she snapped back. "I'll be sore from that, that is for sure." She said before she came back around with her Dwarven blade.
Thinking quickly, Celebhend projects his voice over the din of the fights and the cheering of the crowd. He begins to sing one of the songs from the previous night's camaraderie, attempting to raise the spirits of his battling friends.
The dueling warriors can hear the voice of their friend ring out from the crowd, and the melodic voice of the elven warrior inspires several more voices to join in, cheering for the warriors battling on the field before them.
Doderic and Wulfgith fall back more carefully and slash out, but Doderic finds that he's still not quite as used to fighting against the big folk as he thought. His blow is far too low and bounces off the swordsman's shield. Wulfgith falls back into her defensive stance and makes a careful jab, but her caution gives the Dunlend warrior time to back out of her immediate reach. However, their opponents seem to be a bit slow to retaliate and neither of them makes a counter attack fast enough to strike them.
Hartgard has more fortune as he steps in and slams the flat of his ax against the Wood woman's side. He just barely makes it through her defenses, but she still grunts in pain as she falls back a step, looking more wary. She leaps back in, delivering a quick blow to his gut with the butt of her axe.
Eh, I suppose I did focus more so on the defensive side o'things during my few lessons. Can't fight back ifn' ya knocked out, or dead. He shudders a bit at the last thought.
But lets see if I can't remember some of tha right little basics whatdoya say eh? Though, probably a no.
Wulfgith, while remaining in her defensive stance, tried to take a swing at her opponent when she saw his moves go sluggish. Though it seemed her timing was off as well.
Hartgard takes fresh heart from the voice of Celebhend as he strikes, though few hearts could ignore the return blows.
He swings once again.
She's swift and practised. I am glad to fight her,
The crowd seems to settle down as the duels continue. The careful dance of blades between the pairs calms the immediate fire, leaving many of the watchers silently on the edge of their seats. The team's warriors make another move, their strikes swinging in and pulling back quickly, but both sides seem to be very ready and manage to avoid the strikes once again.
Hartgard seems not to feel the blow, but even he can only take so many. He keeps at it, swinging the flat side of his axe with power.
Doderic retaliates with a quick thrust, taking a minor risk to open himself up slightly.
Breathing out a controlled, slow hush of air, Baìn calms as the Elf falls to the ground.
He though his opponent would give in after the first massive hit, but he had to give the man credit for his stubbornness.
Memories of a battle-ready army from the woodlands laying siege to the Kingdom under the Mountain flare up in him and the iron resolve that King Daìns speech has instilled in all his warriors in anticipation of battle.
He raises his Mattock high, towards the King's emporium and shouts: "For King Daìn Ironfoot, King under the Mountain."
'This is bad... if I can't land a blow this will be all for not.' Wulfgith thought to herself as she shifted back from her attack. 'He's landed one solid blow... I've landed nothing...'
Hartgard delivers another blow, the flat of his ax colliding with the warrior woman's head. She topples sideways, hitting the ground once and going still. Once of the king's men comes up to help her off the stage after checking that she's simply unconscious.
Dain maintains his regal posture, but he momentarily chuckles and nods in Bain's direction as he crows in victory. He glances sideways at the elven representative, who has a very sour look on his face and settles back into his chair with a smirk.
Doderic and Wulfgith both make their next strikes, but all the contestants seem to be tiring and the blows coming from all sides seem too slow to strike their opponents.
Hartgard holds his axe aloft above his head and feels something welling.
He does not shout, but there is more fire in him then there has been in some time.
The valesman walks to watch his friends' matches.
"Well done, and very well done, Hartgard." Celebhend claps the large man on the shoulder before returning his attention to rallying the spirits of his friends.
After having hailed his king, Baìn checks the beaten Elf.
If he's conscious he will extend an arm and will help him up, otherwise he will help the the supervisors of the fight to carry him off.
No need to cause any lasting grudge here and now.
Once that is settled, he will return in time to see Hartgard putting down his opponent with a final blow of his axe.
Clasping his shoulders, Baìn calls into the big warriors ears over the screaming crowd and the loud singing of a certain elf:
"Good fight.
You enjoyed it, yes?
Otherwise you would have ended it earlier, isn't that right?"
After having cheered the Bardinger, he will call out for Wulfgith.
"Come on, young-one, remember your footwork!
You have a better weapon than your opponent after all!"
Hartgard turns to the elf with a slight smile on his face.
"My thanks, Celebhend. She was a fine opponent. And your words helped more than you know."
***
Hartgard actually chuckles at Baìn's comment.
"Do not be deceived, son of Naìn. She nearly had me a few times. Your own fight must have been impressive, I heard some cheers."
*** With Hartgard ***
"Aye, friend, it was a good one.
The long-ear was not a bad fighter and he had an impressive endurance.
I thought I got him good with my very first strike, but he stood his ground.
Never recovered from the hit though and my next swing floored him for good.
Probably better for Elves to keep with their bows though."
His last remark is an obviously humoristic one and he laughs at it deeply.
If this keeps up people will get bored... Wulfgith thought to herself as she slashed at her opponent again. However she couldn't help but retort to Baín. "My foot work is not the problem! He's just fast for one of his size I won't lie! Kind impressive..."