Dance of Steel

Glorfindel's lips tilted into a feral grin. He lunged forward, his blade ringing against his opponent's weapon. Ah, the thrill of sparring with someone his equal. He spun, darting in again, only to leap back to avoid the slash of sharpened metal.

Erestor smiled back. They could do this for hours until one was disarmed or compromised. Which one did not matter, so long as they could engage in the sword dance without the concerns of fighting one not their equal.

And so they continued the dance of steel, bantering calls ringing out in the dawn light.