"One. Two. Three. Four."
A clang of swords followed each mark. Motion after motion as the men drilled.
"Keep your arm steady, you must build your endurance. "
A scrawny man, no more than the age of eighteen spoke his discontent in the bright sunny expanses of the courtyard.
"But sir! Its hot! We've not had a break and we've done this several times already, we're tired."
Of course hot for Arendelle was more like 26 degrees celsius, and that was on a particularly warm day. The tall knight leading the drills took a deep breath and nodded his head. "You're tired? Need a break?"
Anna, who had also been present, rolled her eyes as her father spoke. The red haired man stood infront of the young man which had spoken. "What is your name young man?"
"C-C-Christian, s-sir." He had become very nervous in the direct attention of Anna's father.
"Well Christian. Let's pretend I am a Southern Isles soldier. Draw your sword." His tone was calm, almost unreadable, and it made the young man very uncomfortable.
He drew his sword, the other men stepping away from him. Christian held it tight, taking the stance he had recently learned. There was a silence between them for only a second before the older man, in the likeness of a Souther Isles soldier, swung at him in a simple motion. The sword was blocked, and just as it had been the sword had already moved on its way for another strike. Blocked. Strike. Blocked. Strike. Blocked. Again and again.
Christian's arms grew shakey with each block, and with every strike the knight only hit harder. In one last strike steel met steel, and Christian's blade flew out of his hands and onto the grass. The blade of the knight now poised at the young man's throat, strong and unyeilding.
"You're dead, boy." His tone was matter-of-fact, a small smirk tugged on his lips. "The enemy does not give a -damn- if your arms tire, he does not care that you got dirt in your eye, nor does he care that you're tired and it's hot. In fact, he is counting on it. The moment you begin to tire is the moment he has won the fight." His gaze turned back to Christian. "Pick up your sword, get back in formation."
Christian did as he was told, he scrambled to get back into line. A soft chuckle filled the air in reply to the events that had just been seen. Anna's father turned his head to face the man as he sheethed his sword. "Something funny, Kristoff?"
"Well, yea sir, it's just amusing to see people tire so quickly."
"And you think you can do better?"
"I harvest ice for a living, I probably have even more endurence than you."
"Is that so?"
"Most likely."
"Alright. Lets see what you are made of." The man spoke with a grin.
Kristoff stepped forward and drew his sword, ready for an attack instantly.
"No no, not with me." A hand stretched out and beconed fourth his daughter. "With Anna."
"You're kidding..."
"Do I look like I'm kidding?"
Kristoff gave a grunt and rolled his eyes as Anna drew her sword. There was a smirk on her lips, and a fire in her eyes that seemed to illuminate every single freckle that was splattered over her skin. "Ready when you are." The red head grinned.
The blonde lunged forward, swinging his blade, and such a powerful strike was, surprisingly, easily blocked. Much to his dismay the next few were as well. This was ridiculous, what she didn't block she evaded as if he were moving in slow motion. Kristoff could hear the rest of the men that snickered at him. He swung again, and this time as Anna blocked she side stepped; placed a leg behind his knee and pushed him backwards, sending him crashing to the ground. Her blade now pointed at his neck, she winked at him.
"Swordsman are not one-trick ponies. It doesn't matter how much endurence you have if your foot work is as terrible as yours. Foot work is the foundation of sword fighting. Without a solid foundation the rest of your skills crumble and you come crashing to the ground."
The men present all nodded in understanding, save Anna's father, who instead beamed at his daughter. Anna out stretched a hand to Kristoff with a smile. The blonde eyed it for a moment, not sure if he wanted to take it, pride still wounded from his defeat by a girl half his size. After a moment's debate he took the offered hand and rose to his feet.
"Not bad feisty pants." He smirked.
"Not bad yourself. Just, um; work on that foot work and in no time you'll be giving them a run for their money, I know it. Now back in line, soldier."
Kristoff smirked at her as he passed, heading back to the ranks to continue training. The rest of the day was spent with eyes fixed on the amazing woman he had just encountered in a duel. It was nice to know that she wasn't just another pretty face, but instead one of the most remarkable people he had ever met. There was a lot more to her, and Kristoff wanted to get to know it.