Clank, swoosh.

Swords bashed against each other. You on the offense, your opponent on the defense. Experience could only do so much when your limbs are freezing, leaving him with a thought he'd never admit; weakness.

Despite sluggish movements, Viggo finally managed to disarm you, but not without receiving a cut on his left biceps in the process. He held one hand out, the other one still tightly curled around his sword's hilt in case you weren't going to back down.

"Stop!" He then commanded. "Don't you realize what's happening?!" Viggo gestured behind himself, where the cave entrance had collapsed, trapping you in ice, rock and darkness. The own sword now sheathed, he kicked yours, sending it over the ground towards you. "We are trapped," your opponent hissed, "and you're wasting both of our strenght. If you have an ounce of self preservation in that head of yours, you'll realize there's only one exit and we'll freeze to death before getting out of there!" Then, he pressed two fingers to the cut. The cold is numbing the pain, and the blood isn't dark. Lucky.