The clattering of wood striking wood was almost hypnotic.  This was nothing like fighting in a shield line where you had other people to rely on while you drove your blade into abdomens, groins and thighs; all while trying to keep from slipping on the innards, blood, shit and corpses that littered the ground beneath your boots.  He had not been taught how to fight.  He had been taught how to survive in a real battle.  It was not about pleasing a crowd or putting on some manner of fantastic display, seeking approval from people that cared nothing for you.  It was about finishing an opponent and moving onto the next until there were no opponents left.  The pleasure came afterwards in the form of daughters and wives of your opponents.  Of gold and other precious bits that you could take from their homes.  He was constantly being yelled at, understanding only a fraction of it but at least he was getting the hang of this current exercise.  Swing the wooden sword and block your opponent’s wooden sword.<br/><br/><br/><br/><em> What remarkable glory.  Thor laughs at me. </em><br/><br/><br/><br/>His mind wandered as it was wont to do at times when he wasn’t being pressed and the gladiator across from him took advantage of such.  Suddenly he felt sharp blow against his wrist, his entire right arm going numb for a moment and he had to look down to make sure his numbed hand still held the wooden weapon.  Losing his focus was the first mistake, and looking down was his second.  His shorter but more savvy partner drew a step closer, swinging his shield up and catching the tall man under the chin with the thick wooden edge of the shield.<br/><br/><br/><br/>Lights flashed inside his head as he staggered backwards and landed hard on his arse in the dirt.  He looked up at the man that had just embarrassed him and watched him as he smiled, laughed and said things he didn’t understand.  He heard the title that he had been given however.<br/><br/><br/><br/>“...Dane...”<br/><br/><br/>More laughter and from the tone, he knew that the man spoke ill of him.  His forearm throbbed and his jaw ached and where he sat, he ran his tongue along the inside of his mouth, feeling that none of his teeth were cracked.  He was angry.  Before this, he had more gold than anyone save his warlord.  Before this, he was the one standing over top of a defeated foe, running the man through before looking for a stupid Christian woman to mount and enslave.<br/><br/>He was sore, but worse, he was embarrassed and he’d had had enough of such.  With a low growl he swung his shield arm swiftly at the man’s legs as he stood over him.  The man easily side-stepped the awkwardly thrown shield but that was the moment “Dane” needed.  He was off his arse and springing forward quickly.  He felt the wooden edge of the shield scrape the skin along the inside of his right arm and thud against his chest even as the pommel of the wooden sword cracked down hard against his left shoulder, just missing his head.<br/><br/>“Your mother is a whore, and your father as well!”  , he shouted in his own tongue as his body collided with his opponents.  Dane’s weight, momentum and strength carried both of them back until they both fell over with Dane landing ontop.  Light exploded in his head again as he felt a rough blow from the wooden sword striking him in the forehead but his hands were moving on rote.  It mattered not that he was blind from the pain.  The pain was temporary and he could feel the song inside his blood, and even as he raged visibly on the outside, everything felt as calm as a northern lake at sunrise inside.  The shield was trapped between Dane and the man, effectively trapping his left arm and as they both struggled for a moment, Dane’s vision cleared and his right hand swung down like a hammer and connected hard with his opponent’s nose.  He followed it up with a second blow to the man’s jaw and felt the man beneath him go limp.  His large fist raised a third time and stopped as his vision cleared entirely and he saw that the man, although alive was not in a position to be hitting Dane anymore with that cursed wooden sword.<br/><br/>With a snort of approval he pushed himself up off the man and stood overtop of him.  Dane’s closely-cropped blonde hair was stained a reddish orange from the blood coming out of the cut he had received from the man’s wooden sword and he stopped to spit out a mouthful of blood onto the sand waiting for whatever was to happen next.