I stand at the gate.
The stands are humming with an energy only a crowd can produce; almost silent, but the energy of anticipation seems to crackle through the immense space.
The gate opens.
The crowd is silent. Nothing moves but the gate. The only sounds I hear in the arena is the hissing of the wind through the sand, the creaking of the wrought-iron gates, and the beating of my heart.
I step into the arena.
My supple leather boots crunch quietly on the sand and leave their prints behind me. I walk out from the shade around the arena's edge and then turn around, gazing into the face of the audience. My audience. I see their eager eyes, waiting for what comes next. The mass embodiment of anticipation. I know what they want and revel in their eagerness for a few more painstakingly long seconds, my hand on the hilt of my falchion.
The blade leaps from its sheath, glittering in a long arc. I flourish the long two-handed metal grin, spinning the blade behind my back and then holding it aloft.
The crowd explodes into cheering, the sheer power of their voices nearly making me step back. I grin fiercely from under the cowl of my black cloak, my reply to thousands. I turn to face the opposite side of the arena where a similar ritual is taking place. My opponent is an immense, powerfully built man in steel plate armor, a greatsword gripped in a massive right fist. He swings it over his head, causing his audience to scream even more. Ridiculous.
A man steps onto a platform high above the arena and the crowd quiets so they can hear his words.
"Today we are to witness the battle of these two men. They represent two powerful men in this city who have been debating over an insult and they have brought their quarrel to the arena. The offender, Britus Farsool, is represented in battle by the mighty Steel Ogre!" My opponent raised his left fist above his head and his side erupted into cheers.
"And on the defending side of the conflict is Hystus Bah-torun, represented by the undefeated Prince of Bortu-Kai!" I casually lean on my falchion and flick off my cloak. As it falls I pull a red rose from the pocket of the cloak and hold it in my left hand. For audience's sake I smell the flower, then stride to the edge and toss it neatly to one of the young ladies that sit right along the edge. They squeal with delight as it flies through the air, then many sigh in disappointment when it falls in the lap of a young, raven-haired woman in the third row. She blushes and picks it up, bringing it to her face and smelling the crimson flower. I bow gallantly, thinking, I will take the name "Prince of Bortu-Kai" to the grave if I can do this every day. I then turn to my opponent, who looks a little peeved that I am hitting on women in the audience.
"What, too bad you didn't think of that one yourself, Cave-Troll?" I call mockingly to him. "If you covered your face maybe one of them would be willing to be paid to give you a kiss!" The few in the audience who could hear me laugh at the joke, but the Ogre's brow furrows in anger.
"Better be careful, Your Highness. You wouldn't be the first prancing fool I've had to cut down before..." he growls at me.
"FIGHTERS, TAKE YOUR STANCES!!!" The Ogre brings his massive sword in front of his body, the blade reaching out nearly seven feet. I shift my stance from leaning on my blade to letting the blade rest on the ground to my right. No need for over-exertion... Both of my hands grip the slightly curved hilt loosely, finding a comfortable position on the leather grip.
"FIGHT!!!"
The crowd erupts into sheer chaotic noise, but I barely hear it. The Ogre rushes towards me, his massive sword hurtling down towards my left shoulder. I duck and roll to my left, the blade whooshing over me. I come up on my feet and slice upwards with my falchion. He manages to get his pommel in the way of my attack and my blade glances away. I spin to my right instantly, my blade now hissing down towards his knee. He somehow manages to hop over the blade and swings clumsily one-handed with his sword. Bad mistake.I lean backwards, letting the steel flash by my face, then straighten and slam the pommel of my sword into his right wrist. The massive sword falls to the ground and the Ogre roars in pain, but he manages to get a punch off with his armored left hand and pounds me in the chest. I stumble back a few feet and bring my falchion up again. We circle around, his hands up in a guard stance, his chest heaving with the effort of jumping in plate mail. He starts to back up some towards his sword, but I slice out with my blade and keep his hands busy. My first strike was at his head height, but he blocked it with his right gauntlet. The second was a little lower but on the left, same result. But the third strike caught him between the plates on his right thigh and shin. He stumbled, blood spilling to the sand. The crowd roars. First blood.
He limps backwards trying to get to his sword, but I don't let him. I jump and kick him in the helmet, which was not very good for my foot but knocked him off balance. As soon as I touch the ground I drop low, ducking a clumsy backhand. Then I sweep his knees with my right leg, which successfully brings him to his knees. As I spring back to my feet, though, he grabs at the front of my leather jerkin, growling, "I'm gonna break your filthy neck!"
"Too late, idiot." As his arm straightens, I drop my sword low and drive the razor sharp blade under his arm. The steel tip punched through his back between his shoulder blades, the point like a tooth growing the wrong way. Punctured a lung... He's dead. His head falls, his eyes locking on the blade. Then he looks up at me. The look in his eyes is one of near calm, a type of peace I've only ever seen just before death. Then his eyes glaze over and his body crumples. I pull the falchion out of his body, wipe the blade on the sand and sheath it. I look at the audience. Both sides are quiet, somber.
I bow to my opponent's side. Not a mocking bow, not flourishing, but one of respect. Then I turn to my side, their applause ringing in my ears. I gaze at the people who clap their hands in joy that I killed this man. The young woman with the rose gaze meets mine, shyly she lifts it to her face. I smile at her and she returns it, blushing again. Then I walk back through the gate.
:D I love the action and I think you did a great job at letting us-readers-imagine it. 
I honestly love it very much. I love the way you wrote it and I believe it's perfectly good and needs no fixing. That's what I think 