They glare at one another; in the eyes of each, an insurmountable fire. Like lions preparing for a brawl, they waltz around in a circle, neither wanting the other to gain an edge. The scorching sun dangling up above does naught to melt the steel in their hearts; they move unaffectedly.

One is red; as red as the dawn. The other, blue; as blue as the sea.

After seemingly endless scrutiny, they draw their blades and encompass the distance in between — within seconds. Mountains move when metal clangs against metal. They both jump back; assessing each other again. Then, resume the intimacy of their swords.

They dance with their outstretched weapons; neither giving up, neither giving in. Their movements are perfect; their beastly battle seeming like a well choreographed dance, and they, themselves, two dancers. With every move, their swords embrace, sending sparkles on the earth below.

Soon, they are surrounded by fire.

Day turns dark, but the dance doesn't end. Spinning, then skipping; over and under. It is surprising how a battle between two foes can seem so beautiful.

They never stop; engaged in their endless dance.