Draco and Legolas

the fight

Draco nervously licked his lips, wetting them. He grasped onto the daggers which the prince had been so kind as to provide. Feeling the weight of them, readying himself. They were quite beautiful. He had to admit that. The metal held a blueish tinge to it. He lifted his eyes to Boromir. He was not lying when he had said that he had no fencing training. His mother found it useless, whilst his father saw it as a muggle activity. As such, he was forced to deal with the lack of knowledge. Magic was always practiced much more, and with much more intensity.
He had to be careful with his magoc, however, because he knew, he knew that magic was not common among these people. Let alone one of his rather large abilities. He was greater than, perhaps, this gandalf character, who reminded him far too much of dumbledore. He did not like him.

The slytherin in him would not merely allow him to admit defeat, however, as it simply was not done. With a lightning quick pace Draco's mind came up with several solutions. The best and most appealing was to tire him out. Block and dodge as much as possible until he got worn down, once he did, strike! He rather enjoyed watching others tire. He. wwould have to force the man to use a lot of energy, moving around and continuously blocking or dodging his efforts at combat would not only begin to tire the ruffian, but also get him a little mad. Hence a loss of control to his mental faculties. 

Inhaling deeply, Draco made his choice. Opening his eyes, the blue spears peered at Boromir with such intensity. For a moment, the gondorian faltered. Froze for just a second, wondering if perhaps this was not the best decision. Yet he did not flounder. He made his move swiftly.
Draco was happy with his correct assumption that the gryffindor-like male would strike first. And he did. Something that made him, specifically, extremely happy. Happy because that meant he was likely right in the other predoctions which he had made.

Draco continued to parry Boromir's constant flurry of attacks, or dodge them as best as possible. He was light on his feet, moving in a constant twirling or circular motion. His agility as a slytherin coming in somewhat handy now more than ever.
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Legolas and Aragorn watched the fight, enraptured. It was quite the damce on the boy's part. 

"He is trying to tire him out." Legolas hummed, merely thinking at what Aragorn was saying. That was true, but he had a feeling it was something more that simply that.

"Also making him angry. This teen is of far greater observance than we give credit. He has likely noted Boromir's rather short temper, and is attempting to use it against him."

"His fighting is rather, elegant." Aragorn commented to the side. Legolas cocked his head to the side, blonde hair shimmering.

"It is, is it not? He is so light, and, swift. I am hard pressed to call him a human. While I am fully aware he is not an Elf, or even Half Elf, he is something. Something similar, I just cannot figure out what."

"He was found alone, with a likeness towards elflings. His manner, dictation, is similar. Perhaps he is not so far from an Elf as you would think. If he journied to middle earth, he could be any number of fascinating creatures." Aragorn pointed out. Legolas fixed his piercing blue gaze on his friend.

"Middle Earth is not easily entered or exited. Few have done so without the help of the Elves."

"True, but if he is similar, but of a different sect of elves, he would be more than capable." 

"One thing os certain." Legolas admitted. "He is not Human. Not Dwarf. Not Hobbit. Not any foul creature of Sauron, and he is not an Elf. Or a Half Elf. If what you say is true, than I take heart." Legolas looked momentarily to the sky. "Because it meant that my people did indeed make it the lands beyond the sea." Aragorn smiled at his friend, bwfore both fixed their gazes once more on the battle before them.
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Gimli huffed. Elves. Annoying, the lot of them. This, this, boy who joined, there was something about him too. Gimli couldn't put his finger on what exactly was so off about him, but he knew that there was something. Something, it was just a matter of figuring out what it was. For all his similarities to elves, he jeld no resentment towards dwarves, had shown that quite clearly at the council. Further, unlike that blasted woodelf, this one never taunted him, never teased him. In fact, he seemed to prefer to be alone, by himself most of the time. Something that he was more than willing to give the kid. 

The kid was pretty though. Like most elves. Somewhat long golden hair, blie eyes that seemed to change shades a lot, lean-even if a bit more on the concerningly thin side, his body structure was still certainly of the more thin variety-pale. Picture perfect elf. He was light on his feet, quick, had tons of energy, dod not tire easily, and seemed to enjoy being alone in some random corner of the group. And talking in those infernal riddles. 

Yet, Gimli sort of got along with him. They hadn't spoken much, only a few times, and not for very long. But the somewhat mocking tone often used by most elves towards dwarves was, as ever, lost. No matter what Gimli said, how much he taunted, the other dod not rise to the occasion. It was by this, Gimli had to conclude, the other was not an elf. Despite his overwhelmingly elvin attributes. 

The boy more often than not sat in silence, but Gimli, he would not be opposed to learning more about him.
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Draco continued to parry, twist, twirl, and dodge. He could feel the slowly rising anger coming from the mortal. It would not be long before he broke, and when he did, Draco would take the opportunity which would present itself. 

It did not take much longer. Boromir let out an angey howl as Draco evaded him once again. Before the mortal could say, or do, anything brash or stupid, Draco took his chance. Lunging forwards, he trapped the sword of the man inbetween Prince Legolas' two daggers. Quickly spining himself he flung the sword away from the man's recently loosened grip, and, before the mortal could do anything else, placed the daggers effectively. One at his neck, the other, just below the ribcage. Draco's eyes gleamed a daring dark blue. A fire, having been lit in his soul. It was certainly a refreshing fight, if nothing else. He had been on edge for a bit.

"I win." Said simply, factually. As if it was of no consequence. And to Draco, it was not. It was a mere spar, nothing more. The fact that he won, well, it did strike pride, but it was not what mattered. It was the principle. "Thank you, Sir Boromir. I had an enjoyable fight with a skilled competitor. I am new to fighting with bladed weapons you see. You are quite impressive." He said bowing, hoping to stroke the other's ego, so he doesn't get further angry.

It worked. Boromir flushed, happily, ego effectively raised, and stuttered out thanks. Draco merely gave a small, myserious smile, and turned away.
He walked up to the Prince. 

"Your Highness, your weapons. Thank you, for allowing me the privilege of using them." Legolas smiled as he took his weapons from the other's hands.

"It was no trouble." Draco smiled, bowed and left. Legolas looked down at the weapons in his hands, curious, and desperation to find out the truth of their seemingly "human" companion.