The Sparring continues…;-)

Ell wrote part of the next installment and credit goes to her and JennLee for the use of the character Asim. This little sparring match is winding down I'm afraid and this is the next to the last installment. Boo hoo. LOL

I want to thank you all for reading and reviewing, this has been lots of fun and by the way, if you haven't read Ruse's "Stray Mummy Extras", please do, its a riot.

And now onwards to our little story in progress…;-)

~*~

As Berin and Nabil began sparring in earnest, Asim leaned over the fence, watching with a knowledgeable and attentive eye. He admired the skill and artistry of their movements but as the match escalated into a fierce and realistic-looking mock battle, he tightly gripped the top rail of the fence. This was much less playful than the last time he had seen warriors sparring, much more ferocious, if only because they were very familiar with each other and their skills. Their blades whirled so quickly it seemed that they would surely injure one another without meaning to. At one point Nabil brought his scimitar around in a sharp sweep, a blur of white steel and almost too fast to see, and much too fast for Berin to block it. Asim heard a collective gasp come from a few warriors standing behind him that congealed into a groan of relief as Berin did block it at the last possible second.

"They are insane," Ardeth suddenly spoke up from Asim's side. "Surely blood will be drawn by the session's end."

"I would not worry, ya ra'is" Asim replied knowingly. "It is only practice…only play. They are too skilled to injure one another."

Ardeth nodded his acknowledgement and leaned forward, his dark eyes sparkling with excitement, his mind estimating each man's future move. A practiced eye followed this ballet of steel, expertise and endurance; his mouth twitched with a smile of pure enjoyment as he relished the idea of testing his own skill within the corral.

As both men broke momentarily and circled each other deliberately, a corner of Nabil's mouth turned up and he jerked his head toward the fence. He said, "Some of our brothers have never seen us fight, the two of us together. Perhaps they are afraid, I think. Perhaps I should go easy on you, since your fans are watching."

Berin snorted as he moved easily on the balls of his feet, tossing his scimitar from hand to hand. "I ought to take off your head for even thinking of such a thing."

Nabil twirled his own weapon effortlessly as if it dangled from a string, and raised his eyebrows. "You ought to try." With a clash of swords, the battle was joined once again.

"Nuqta fa'inn Nabil," Jameel called out, surprised when he looked around at the spectators gathered. He calculated the total accumulation of points and made the announcement. "It's tied," he called out as murmurs of surprise swept through the crowd.

Both warriors suddenly stopped and stood in the center of the corral, chests heaving as they dragged in large droughts of air. The scimitars now dangling loosely by their sides, Nabil took the chance to wipe his face with his forearm and Berin smirked, unable to stop himself from teasing his saHib.

"Who has been fighting like an old woman now?" he asked, droplets of sweat hanging off the spiky tendrils of his hair, dripping down onto his chest.

"I still have my head," Nabil retorted and both men turned as one to glance over at the daggers. His gaze slid back to Berin, one eyebrow raised in a silent question.

"Only if we can stop for some water," Berin agreed. "The day grows hot and we will need to end this soon."

As Nabil and Berin slowly walked over to the fence where the daggers laid covered, a few warriors rushed forward to offer praise and pouches of water. Both men took long, healthy swallows then impulsively Nabil doused himself with the rest of it. The way the sun was hitting their glistening skin, covered with tiny droplets of water, almost made them seem mythical somehow. Perhaps they looked like the gods of old, battling on Mt Olympus. Two warriors, in their prime of physical health, bodies honed to muscular perfection...a fluid grace in every movement, with an underlying strength of steel. To see them at a glance, one would believe they were savages, with the exotic tattoo's adorning their bodies, the long shaggy hair and barely wearing any clothes except for their boots and baggy pants.

Berin was more muscular, standing several inches taller than Nabil, the sheer size of his body a silent testament to his strength but few knew he could be as gentle as a lamb...unless provoked. All one had to do was see past his gruff exterior and realize that how he treated his small circle of close friends was an indication of his true nature. Like the bear one could imagine him to be sometimes, Berin dipped his head, then flung it back, droplets of water flying from his dark mane as he pushed it away from his eyes.

Nabil was a few inches smaller, but just as muscular if not slightly leaner. Strong dexterous hands came up and shoved his hair away from his face, biceps briefly bulging, and the defined area of his ribs standing out in stark relief for a moment. A few rivulets of water still ran down his body, over the lean hips and disappeared into the damp waistband of his pants.

They reached for the daggers, each man commenting to the other on technique, and whether they should still use the scimitars or not.

"So much for lack of attention," Berin drawled out as they walked back into the center of the ring. "I had hoped for our first practice with these to be done with little or no spectators."

"Shall we...decrease our skill level?" Nabil inquired. "To make up for the lack of knowledge?"

Berin shook his head, one hand holding his scimitar, the other holding the three-pronged dagger as if it was an extension of his body. He flipped it in his hands a few times, judging the weight of it and making mental adjustments. "If I recall correctly, I have yet to take off your head for your earlier comments," he chuckled.

Nabil also tested the weight and feel of his dagger, amazed and pleased at how quick the blade moved within his hand. The metal was a blur of flashing light in the sun as it spun in his hand, then came to rest. He adjusted the scimitar's balance in his other hand, then looked up at Berin, opening his arms wide.

"Then have at me," Nabil commanded.