Dagorlad: Part I

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Battle Encampment of the Alliance: Dagorlad Plains. SA 3434

"How much do you want to bet?"

"Bet what? That brawl is a done deal!"

"I don't know Aradan, Prince Amroth is fast," Rista pursed her lip in consideration, and eyed her captain with a little glint of mischief in her eyes.

"Rista, betting against your sovereign Prince is considered treason," Aradan chuckled and continued to ignore the idiotic brawl between his best friend and his counterpart from the southern wood.

"Spoil sport," The feisty little elleth pouted, before eyeing the nearly bad apple Aradan was vainly trying skin. She grinned and quick as a flash snatched it from his hands and skittered across the muddy yard giggling victoriously.

"Hey! That was the last one...dammit, I was saving that," Aradan whined after the little orc, and examined the empty space surrounding his palm were the piece of fruit had once sat.

Most of the good perishable food was gone, and he had just managed to steal the last, half decent, apple from Thranduil without him noticing. Well, he supposed that was fate's punishment to him for stealing in the first place. Scowling he plonked himself down on the nearest crate to continue observing the ego fuelled duel between the two princes.

"Say it...say it...Thranduil, just say it and I'll stop," Amroth cackled breathlessly as he held a scrambling Thranduil face first in the dirt, his knee firmly embedded between his shoulder blades. A few angry snarl like curses emanating from Thranduil, suggested to Amroth that Greenwood's prince was not ready to admit defeat yet.

"I wouldn't taunt him Amroth," Aradan sighed with disinterest from his seated position, the statement earning him a bemused look from the other Prince.

"What? Why? I have won-"

The slight hesitation on Amroth's part gave Thranduil all the time he needed to launch his counter attack. With a slight twist and well timed kick Thranduil had wriggled out of his grasp and firmly elbowed Amroth between the eyes. The other elf went flailing backwards, and Thranduil not missing a beat, threw his weight on top of him and pinned him by the throat with his forearm.

"Oh good valar...argh...my nose...I see stars...you broke my nose!" Amroth yelped and held his bruised nose, a look of utter betrayal written all over his face.

"Well that is what you get for picking on someone bigger than you," Thranduil grinned and winked tauntingly for the very embarrassed elf below him.

"Get off!" Amroth huffed and wrestled with the smug prince until he successfully kicked the sniggering lug off of him.

"You are such a sore loser," Thranduil snickered and ran his hand through his mud streaked, knotted, hair.

"And you are an animal Thranduil Oropherion," Amroth grumbled as he sat upright and pinched the bridge of his nose, tilting his head back and softly prodding the bruised area. "Ow, seriously Thranduil do you have any boundaries in combat training? Or do you just fight until someone bleeds?"

"Prince Thranduil does not fathom the concept of boundaries, he never did, and neither did his Adar as far as I can remember?" The unexpected voice of King Amdir was enough to take them all off guard.

Both princes sat frozen on the cold ground, and ceased their games instantaneously to stare wide eyed at the emerging forms of their none too pleased father's.

King Amdir eyed the scene with a hard expression, and was especially scrutinizing of his mess of a son. Oropher stood a step behind and had one eyebrow arched at his so called captain of the guard. Aradan practically leapt from his crate and bowed deeply, whilst any other observing in the crowd either scurried off or bowed their heads in respect.

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