Subject: Arrows |
Author: Faeirex
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Date Posted: 16:13:09 04/23/02 Tue
Faeirex hesitated before taking the arm of the smooth young man in front of her. She felt much better now. All her fear, anger, pain and frustration had been poured into that one arrow and dispelled from her body with the release of the bowstring. Here, nothing mattered. She was neither elf nor girl, friend or foe. Here, she was a warrior, and nothing mattered more than the feel of the weapon in her hands, the blending of mind and body with polished steel. Here, she was free of the burdens she carried.
"My name is Lómódë." she told him. The man murmured pleasantries and compliments, mixed in with jokes and witty remarks as she walked with him. He was good, she had to conceed. It wasn't long before he brought first a smile, then pure, unadulterated laughter to her lips. It felt good to laugh.
Strange as it may be, here she didn't feel like a fraud. She didn't feel false bearing the name Lómódë. Laughing like any normal girl, Faeirex was herself, herself before all the changes took place.
She was introduced to the men watching the archery. The one who had spoken to her was Keth, she noted. The names of the others were lost to her.
"Was that a fluke?" one of them asked her. Not really a man this one, little more than a boy.
Normally, a remark like that would have angered her. At the moment though, Faeirex was content to let it pass.
"No more than this will be." she answered easily. Turning back to the targets, she loosed a dozen arrows in quick succession, her arm a blur.
Done, she stepped back, surveying her handiwork. Each of the twelve arrows had landed in the outermost circle of the target, forming a ring. Each was perfectly spaced apart, neatly circling the arrow she had previously placed in the centre.
"Doubt me now?" she asked, eyes sparkling with mischief.
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