Five young men each hold a wand, and the wands are tangled together. They could be hitting each other or just knocking staves to test one another. Their clothes are all different colours and nobody seems hurt, so it looks more like a scrimmage than a war. The Five of Wands is the noise of several people's ideas and ambitions colliding at once.
When it appears, the room is usually loud. Everyone in the meeting is pushing their own proposal, a competition has drawn a crowd of entrants, or one group trip has split your friends five ways over the itinerary. It is tiring, but not the kind of fight that does real damage. In the clash, what each person can do — and what each person wants — tends to come out.
Reversed, it goes two ways. One is pouring energy into a fight with nothing to win. Nobody remembers what started it; the argument is now about the argument. The other is avoiding the clash altogether — swallowing what you meant to say until the resentment piles up. Either way, all that is left at the end is exhaustion.
The question to ask is what you actually want out of this. If that is clear, the noise will not throw you. If the only honest answer is 'to show them they were wrong', stepping back costs you very little.
It is a waste to read this only as a bad omen of conflict. Knocking staves is also how a match is played. Where competition makes the work better, this kind of noise is useful.
With the Five of Swords, it can tip into a fight that sours even if you win, so choose your words. Followed by the Six of Wands, someone comes out of this contest at the front.