Dwarfslayer

26

Damon opened the door, and was surprised to see a large crowd had, despite the late hour, already gathered around the usual dueling field in front of the pub.

He knew his reputation was responsible, and smiled, both at that thought, and at the sight of his pathetically short opponent on the other end of field.

“Hey!” Damon shouted at him. The crowd fell silent. “I didn’t get your name.”

“Percival Merchant,” the man said, his expression blank.

“Well, Percival, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Damon Dwarfslayer. Before we start, quick question. How far did you have to go to find a sword small enough for you?”

The crowd exploded in laughter. Percival didn’t reply. In fact, it appeared as if he hadn’t even heard.

“Okay, calm down people.” The noise simmered away. “Are we ready to start, Sir Percival?”

He nodded.

“Okay, then. Can I get a countdown from the crowd?”

The crowd began at ten, but the countdown soon became muddled, as most of those counting had parents unlike Damon’s, who had either been too stupid or too secluded to have taught their children basic mathematics. Eventually, the crowd made it to three, and the countdown went smooth from there.

The match started.

Damon went in for the first blow, which was usually enough to scare most of his opponents.

Percival, however, parried it with an unexpected strength. The two locked swords for a moment, before Percival pushed Damon off, and attacked with a quick swing. Damon parried it, and narrowly blocked another one.

Percival used his small stature to slip behind Damon. He swung, but Damon caught the sword before it could cut through his leg.

Damon turned all the way around, and was again met with two quick swings - both of which he defended - and Percival slipping behind him, once again.

This time, though, Damon wasn’t quick enough, and Percival slashed Damon across the back of his knee.

Damon let out a pained groan through clenched teeth, and fell forward dropping his sword. He turned onto his back, and watched as Percival bent down, and picked up the fallen sword.

He smiled at Damon, turned, and walked through the shocked crowd to a horse just big enough to not be considered a pony.