Guardians Of Atlanta 12
By the Twenty-Fifth year of William’s life a tradition had begun.
Among the Knights trained for combat, a prize was to be won.
At the Summer Solstice celebration, the two best warriors were picked
To duel the other one on one in a special armed conflict.
The Fellowship Hall of Alethea Church was large and made out of stone.
In the central area, a space was cleared, where the battle was to be shown.
The Guardrails were put up and chairs were set for spectators to sit in.
And banners were hung all around the hall waving proudly for Summer to begin.
Safety was taken in the way that most would readily assume.
Padded armor and blunted weapons to protect the fighters from doom.
And while The Knights did not allow a single wager to be placed,
The Knights and Dames would cheer their favorite with spirit and with haste.
The rules were simple, three rounds scored by landed strikes and advances,
Parrys, blocks, and a few other things scored points to help their chances.
But one critical hit could win a match, the throat, the heart, or head.
And both Brock and William were looking to score one in the match that was up ahead.
The other thing about the match that made it most unique,
was that William and Brock used weapons built for power and physique.
On one side William with his 50 inch greatsword, Cromwell by name it was known.
On the other was Brock with his battle-axe Gideon, with power to crush elephants bones.
As the two combatants stretched and prayed in the circle battle zone,
Their teachers, Masters Fenris and Dodd spoke in a corner alone.
Dodd: “William is great.” Master Dodd spoke.
“His instincts know no bounds.
But Brock is a specimen beyond any knight.
And at the end it will be him who is crowned.”
Fenris: “We will see Malachi. Brock is stalwart. But William has something apart.
What Brock has in spades in size and strength, William possesses in heart.”
And just then the crowds came into the hall, cheering and shouting to them-
That would soon be focused in tunnel vision not reachable by normal men.
The first round was signaled by the bleat of a horn and then the fighting commenced.
Both men attempting to score a quick win then both jumping back on defense.
They circled one another, mirror images of each other until William attacked,
But Brock sidestepped and wrapped the handle of his axe around William’s neck.
William stepped around behind Brock’s left leg, and tripped Brock to the floor.
But William’s advantage didn’t last long as Brock evened the score.
Brock rolled the pin completely around and sat atop Sir Will.
But William swung with all his might and nearly won the kill.
Brock pushed up and off of Will as soon as he saw the swing.
He backed away and circled round as the air began to ring.
“Let’s go Will!” The crowd would shout and clap five times in a row.
“Let’s go Brock!” The others would chant, shout, and clap in tow.
Back and forth the first round went until the signal horn blew,
Then William and Brock went to their corners to rest and let aggression stew.
The second round started much as the first, with neither man advancing far.
But soon Brock crushed William’s left shoulder with what felt like a speeding car.
Five points to Brock was the first official score, soon followed by ten and fifteen.
William tried blocking as best as he could but Brock simply crushed that scheme.
Fifteen more points and the round ended suddenly, With William writhing in pain.
The official asked Will if he could go on, and William said: “I can…”
A few moments later round three began with William bruised and sore.
And Brock tired from swinging his axe, but both with a lot more in store.
Brock charged William and William charged too, but at the last second he rolled.
And the bulk of William’s body collided with Brock’s knees, then William stood brave and bold.
Brock screamed in pain and held his knee as William brought Cromwell down,
and the blunt sword point hit Brock in the chest and soon after it was William that was crowned.
Fenris: “I told you that William would win this fight. His heart cannot be matched.
Brock is a talented Warrior no doubt, but tonight, he was simply outclassed.”
Malachi Dodd smiled with a nod, as nurses tended the men,
who had just proved that no matter the size any fighter can still win.
Hi I’m Joshua, and I’m resurrecting Epic Poetry for modern nerds like you! Come join me at JoshuaDavidLing.com or just about anywhere on social media!
(The next poem may not be available yet.)