Disclaimer: Tolkien’s character’s: Kortirion’s musings...
Aragorn circled the still, central figure, sword high. His opponent matched his steps, warily watching - a flicker, and their swords clashed, high, low, high, - spin, strike, retreat - back to circle. The next pair came forth. Naked blades scythed the air, steel flashed in the torchlight. Faster, faster, the bare-chested dancers spun; wild clashes drew blood, trickling red down flame-lit flesh. Still, the central figure held his place. Bright-eyed, panting, finally all laced their swords about his throat.
Assembled Rivendell politely applauded the ancient sword-dance.
Aragorn lifted the woven steel from the ‘king’s’ shoulders. Boromir met his eye - and both shivered.