Tournament day! Every single resident of the entire town of Hofn was at the tournament grounds early. There were several hundred people, of all ages, clad in clothing of natural fibres and leathers from the animals and plants of the region. Jorik was already limbering up in one of the practice rings. He had drawn the second combat of the day.

  A tournament results board had been erected above the main administration area of the tournament grounds. It showed sixteen participants matched into 8 combats: Sverting-Skoedir, Sigfus-Jorik, Thoraldr-Ivar, Gudvaer-Unnulf, Regin-Skurfa, Gilli-Ingiborg, Jokul-Gamal, and Jomar-Gudrod. Above the tournament bracket board was a trophy skull on a battle standard, complete with an ornate banner, and it sure looked to James that the skull was that of a dragon head.

  Combat number 1 got off to a rousing start. The weather was pretty much perfect on the cool but clear morning. It wasn't even too windy. James was watching the event from a grassy area covered with spectators. Everyone seemed to have a favourite combatant, and yelled loudly to encourage either Sverting or Skoedir. There were flags and banners, presumably advertising the family crest of one or another of the contestants. Both Sverting and Skoedir wore fur covered animal skins and brandished heavy wooden swords. Practice weapons to be sure, but they looked heavy and strong, especially in the hands of these powerful Islandians.

  The referee in the contest was none other than Jakob Bjornsson himself, elder ruler of Hofn. He stood between the two contestants with a large cloth banner on a wooden pole. Raising the banner high into the air the crowd counted down in the Islandic language: "Fimm! Fjorir! Brir! Tveir! Einn! Bjornsson swept the banner downwards and then up above his head. With that, and encouraged by the screams of the crowd he exited the ring as quickly as his experienced bones would take him. James was amazed by his nimbleness for his age.

  The combat was immediate. Both young men stepped forward and began swinging their massive wooden weapons. Sverting, the taller of the two struck twice, but each blow was parried by Skoedir. After the second deflection Skoedir used the resulting momentum to swing around towards Sverting's exposed head. "Thump!" as the hit was scored, stunning the young man. Skoedir pressed his advantage and struck in a flurry of blows. Two more glancing impacts to Sverting's skull and a serious impact across his chest. That caused Sverting to back up several steps until he was up against the leather ropes. Rebounding off of the ropes, he was able to surprise Skoedir and apply a "Thump!" of his own to his opponents shoulder, but the counter attack ran out of steam and Skoeder was able to strike a one handed blow to the exhausted Sverting. That blow to his back sent the young man sprawling to the ground, dropping his wooden sword.

  The crowd erupted in cheers, and Elder Bjornsson stepped in to stop the fight and raise Skoeder's arm in victory. Sverting looked pretty unsteady on his feet, and two of his family members had to assist him out of the ring.The whole fight lasted about two minutes, but seemed eminently satisfied to the crowd of spectators. They bantered with their neighbours recounting what had just taken place with huge grins of enthusiasm.

  Match number 2 featured James's friend Jorik, and a smaller man named Sigfus. Both featured extremely intense expressions during the build up to the combat. James half wished that Jorik might recognise him in the crowd, but Jorik was recognising nobody except his opponent.

  The fight began with extreme intensity. These Islandians did not mess around. Sigfus drove forward in an unrelenting charge, striking blow after blow against Jorik's legs and mid-section. It was difficult to tell how much of the impact that Jorik was able to deflect, but certainly some of the blows managed to strike home, driving Jorik back up against the ropes. He still looked intense, when Sigfus paused, just for a second to regain his breath, Jorik used the moment to deal a massively powerful swing over the top and down towards Sigfus's head. He just stepped away from the blow in the nick of time, but was clearly impressed by the force of the swing. Jorik was a powerfully built young man.

  Sigfus continued with his attacks, but exhibited a bit more caution. He scored a few more hits, but clearly was overmatched in strength by his much larger opponent. Then he made a fatal error, swinging too hard in an attempt to strike Jorik in the back. Jorik's counter was devastating breaking Sigfus's sword and carrying on through onto the young man's head, knocking Sigfus out cold. Poor guy. His dad produced something that looked like smelling salts that quickly brought Sigfus back to consciousness, but he still needed assistance leaving the ring.

  The next six combats went on in similar ways, producing 6 more victors and 6 more losers. Every young man fought bravely, despite any inherent disadvantage in skills, strength or size.

  The tournament board was updated to four more round 2 matches: Skoeder-Jorik, Thoraldr-Unnulf, Skurfa-Gilli, and Jokul-Gudrod.

  Jorik was first up, and Skoeder appeared to be a more evenly matched opponent. Both took a slightly more measured approach to the beginning of the combat, but once Jorik took the first swing, the battle was on. It was very much like two heavyweight fighters, both willing to sacrifice themselves to deal out the decisive blow. "Thump!" Jorik's sword struck home onto Skoeder's side. "Wham!" Skoeder's sword struck Jorik's shoulder. Every blow resulted in an enormous cheer from the crowd. The blows were taking their toll on both men. The pace of the fight was slowing, with more time between swings. Finally, Skoeder exerted himself to the maximum and reached back with the fullest possible swing. It was a big mistake, since Jorik was ready to parry and dodge the blow. That left Skoeder's head exposed and even though his sword was engaged in the parry, his right arm was available to connect with the back of Skoeder's skull, flattening the young man.

  The other three quarter final matches were similarly competitive. These young guys were incredibly competent fighters. The third fighting brackets had just four names left, split into two matches: Jorik-Thoraldr and Skurfa-Gudrod.

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  There was a break in the matches while most everyone paid a visit to the meal tent. The remaining fighters also seemed to appreciate the break. James noticed the families of each of the remaining contestants, massaging and encouraging their nominated representative. One of these four young men would be the village champion. James decided to risk a quick visit to Jorik's family table. He wanted to encourage his new friend.

  "Jorik!" ventured James. "Well done! You have been doing great!"

  "James!" replied Jorik. "I appreciate you saying that! It's really tough out there! My village brothers are excellent opponents and I'm probably lucky to have made it this far. We'll see how it goes, but I would dearly love to win this thing. My dad was a dragon rider and I have always wanted to be one too!" His mom pushed a bowl of food in front of him, and encouraged Jorik to eat something.

  "I'll let you eat your meal, Jorik. But I will be out in the crowd, cheering for you!" finished James.

  Jorik nodded towards James, and waved his free hand. James could see some significant scrapes and two blue bruises on Jorik's head and shoulders. He was concerned for the well being of his new friend.

  Round 3 kicked off with Jorik battling Thoraldr. Thoraldr used different fighting techniques than most of the other participants. For Thoraldr, the heavy wooden practice sword was more of a staff or a pole. Several times he used the wooden weapon to leap up and over Jorik, or push Jorik out of attack range. Their fight lasted the longest of any battle, thus far, and only after several inconclusive engagements did the serious blows get delivered.

  Thoraldr struck first by literally pole vaulting up and landing a two footed kick to Jorik's chest causing him to crash backwards into the leather ropes and drop his sword. Fortunately for Jorik, Thoraldr's unconventional attack style also shook himself up.

  Jorik regained control of his weapon, but seemed to have the wind knocked out of him resulting in a series of desperate defensive moves. At least these prevented any further damage, while Jorik regained his breath. Thoraldr once again tried to sieze the initiative with an unconventional manoeuvre, this time attempting to sweep the feet out from under Jorik by tripping him. Jorik seemed to anticipate the attack and countered by inflicting a massive blow to Thoraldr's wooden weapon, fracturing the implement with a loud "CRACK!"

  The crowd erupted in approving cheers, as this was apparently a significant event. Thoraldr did not attempt to use the pieces of his broken sword and James was pretty sure that was against the rules. Instead he tried to become more like a street brawler sort of a fighter. Jorik was having none of it and rather easily kept Thoraldr at a distance, while landing sword blows at the same time. In a last, desperate attempt to save the situation Thoraldr took a blow to the shoulder, then tried to lunge forward and grab Jorik's sword, perhaps trying to steal the weapon for his own use. The attempt failed and Jorik dealt the coup de grace, slamming Thoraldr across the back. He didn't get up, and Jorik was declared the winner of the first semi-final combat.

  Skurfa's battle with Gudrod was also an epic affair with Gudrod emerging victorious after another extended match. Gudrod was a giant of a man, about 6 foot seven inches tall and near 15 stone in weight. No matter how many blows Skurfa landed, Gudrod seemed unfazed, and once his sword struck home, the impact was catastrophic. Skurfa's leg was broken by one of the blows and the match called immediately. Village healers set the leg and built a makeshift cast for it, right beside the fighting ring. The crowd seemed extremely impressed by the fight, but James almost wished that his friend Jorik, had lost his semi-final match. A fight to decide the tournament with Gudrod seemed almost suicidal.

  In between rounds one of James's travelling companions finally made their way to join James viewing the fights. Celeste elbowed her way into the location on top of the small hill. "There you are, James!" said Celeste. "I have been looking all over for you. We've been arranging all of the equipment for tomorrow's expedition."

  "I wondered where you all were, Celeste," replied James. "You missed a bunch of fights!"

  "Barbarians! This is the most ridiculous system of choosing a champion! Someone is going to get killed! How is your friend, Jorik, doing?"

  "He's in the final! But that Gudrod guy is an animal! I am worried for Jorik."

  "We'll see how it goes," replied Celeste. "I doubt that the dragon could even lift Gudrod into the air. For the sake of the dragon, I hope that your friend wins."

  The energy of the crowd peaked for the final confrontation. Jorik began the battle, much like Skurfa, landing many blows and staying out of the way of Gudrod's swings. But once again, Gudrod's tolerance from impacts was remarkable. When Gudrod finally did land a blow, James could tell that it really hurt Jorik, and he was reassessing his approach. The next few minutes were spent posturing and jousting with little damage inflicted, but Jorik started a new tactic, one that scared James. He began taunting the giant and goading him on. "You big fat blowhard! Fight like a man! You couldn't hurt a flea with that sword! Is that all you have for me, Gudrod?"

  Gudrod started to get extremely angry and began forcing the attack. It was all Jorik could do to fend off the massive blows. Finally, after a particularly violent swing caused Gudrod to stumble, Jorik reached around and pulled Gudrod's long hair. It was as if Jorik had questioned Gudrod's manhood in front of the whole town. James could have sworn that steam emerged from Godrod's ears, and he charged directly at Jorik who was backed up against the leather ropes. James was almost too afraid to watch the outcome of the charge.

  Jorik bent down, as if to receive the blow, but that is not what happened. Instead, Jorik redirected the force of the swing and also Gudrod's charge and using his wooden sword as a hinge, lifted the three hundred pound man off of his feet, cartwheeling him up and over the leather ropes and off of the six foot tall arena into the scattering crowd. Remarkably, no spectators were crushed by the spinning giant, but the wooden benches left behind by their retreats were converted to splinters in an instant. Gudrod was out cold, and Jorik stood at the ropes staring at his fallen opponent. the crowd went berserk. "Jorik! Jorik! Jorik!!"

  The cheers went on throughout the declaration of victory. It seemed all the sweeter when Jorik's grandfather proudly raised Jorik's hand into the sky as village champion.

  The celebrating went on for quite a while as every member of Jorik's family went up onto the stage to congratulate him, but one final event in the tournament greatly impressed James. Once Gudrod was revived, all four of Jorik's opponents went over to the tournament results board, picked up the dragon head battle standard and carried it up into the ring. To much fanfare his bested opponents presented the standard to Jorik, and each one added a congratulatory hug.

  "I guess that there are no hard feelings," observed Celeste. "You would never catch me hugging someone that I had just been fighting."

  James was in full agreement with Celeste's sentiments. he couldn't imagine her doing that either.