Bows! elves with bows

[woodking]

Who: Thranduil and Dairine (or Thranduil and open, if you'd like to come to the archery range)
What: Shooting practice! The bows here are weird he can only hit like a sparrow's eye a mile away or something
When: After New Years and after everyone has recovered from being drunk and then their hangovers
Where: Archery range
Rating: Should stay a G, maybe ranging to PG

The trees were unfriendly - uniformly so, inasmuch as they were silent. They left Thranduil uneasy, and the longer the state continued, the greater the feeling grew. It was almost a relief to be away from them, which was so bizarrely contrary to the way anything the world had ever worked that it left him entirely unsure of how to proceed. One thing he did know was that he wished another weapon, one which could offer him a greater range than simply his sword. He was exceedingly deadly with it, but it was never good to assume. This, unfortunately, brought forth another problem.

Normally Thranduil would simply make a bow, but here he lacked the tools, and more importantly in many ways here the trees were stubbornly silent, unwelcoming, which made him balk from cutting wood unless in greatest need. That was not upon him, yet, so he'd decided to look into alternatives. There was an archery range, which was supposed to be stocked with at least some weapons. He had not waited too long before moving to examine it.

There were bows and arrows enough, of unfamiliar textures and materials (not all of them were wood, or even metal). Their weight and heft and even the way they were drawn was in the case of most of them completely unfamiliar, and many were already strung, which seemed sloppy but so bizarre were they that perhaps it was permissible. He was beginning to try to find the one shaped least awkwardly when he found one that was, at least, reasonably normal. There were strings enough, so he strung it and experimentally tested various features. There was no way to know how accurate it was without testing it, but it would do for a start.

Thranduil collected a handful of arrows and made his way to the targets, standing in front of the furthest. And from there he was simply movement, loading an arrow, raising it, and firing it without seeming even to take time to aim. The arrow buried itself deep inside the target, slightly to the left of the center. He frowned and loaded another arrow, firing again.

Comments

[wizard_redfive]

Dairine was on her way up to the shooting range. Although she does not come out here as frequently in the winter as she does the rest of the year, she wanted to break in her new bow. It was a good bow, handcrafted by Katniss, but still felt strange in her hand after roughly a year with the practice bow. So Dairine had been practicing a bit more than usual to get the hang of it.

The first thing she sees when she walks up is that new royal elf, Thranduil, shooting at one of the targets. Dairine frowns, having hoped to have the range for herself. She probably should have expected company after giving Thranduil directions to the shooting range, but she thought he was just looking for weaponry. She didn't think he would deign to stay and practice.

Well, he's not going to scare her off from practicing, king or not. No siree. So carefully ignoring him, she passes by to grab some of arrows, just enough to fill her quiver. She then moves to a target closer to the center of the field, plenty of distance away from the elf.

[woodking]

Thranduil was standing lightly on top of the snow, not in it; there were no footprints leading to where he currently stands, though the arrows were sticking from the snow like some sort of demented flower. He glances briefly at Dairine as she walks by before returning to the target, and loading and firing another arrow with the same breathless speed. It hits maybe an inch and a half or two inches from the first arrow. He frowns, and then repeats the process with every other arrow he brought out. The bow is not as accurate as one of elf make, but after a few arrows he is beginning to learn how it pulls, and the power it can deliver. The arrows are nestled in a cluster at the very center of the target, only a few inches wide, buried very deep. Quietly, though with some effort, he retrieves them, and then once again fires several. They are fixed much more closely together. Which is, at least, a start. But only a start is not enough. He retrieves the arrows and moves back nearly as far as the range will allow, then shoots again. Once again, the spread was slightly wider. He sighed.

[wizard_redfive]

Him standing on the snow was already annoying Dairine a little, since her feet were well sunk into the snow, making it more difficult to get into stance. How light were elves? Could she pick one up? Dairine takes a moment to imagine picking up Thranduil and chucking him into a snowdrift to make herself feel better, then brushes the image aside. She had no business with the elf king. She was here to practice, and practice she would.

Doing her very best to ignore his presence, she draws an arrow and fires it. It hits the target, though is not close to the center as she normally could hit. After a two more though, she is back to her usual swing of getting 9 out of 10 in the central circle. Her last arrow hits a bulls-eye, and she turns to Thranduil's target to gloat about it.

What a mistake. With the exception of the few stray arrows on her target, there wasn't much difference in there appearances. In a huff, she goes to retrieve her arrows and try again. But on her way back, she realizes that he is shooting from all the way in the back. She sends him a death glare and lets out a loud hmph! before getting back into position. Stupid elves and their stupidly perfect archery skills.

[woodking]

He looks at her curiously, head tilted - elvish eyes were keen, and elvish ears were sharp, enough that he hadn't had any problems catching the glare and the sound. A white fawn, a big thing that was all awkwardly long legs and knobbly knees, twined close around him from behind.

[wizard_redfive]

When he turns to look at her, she snaps her head away, visibly irritated. Something deep in the back of her mind whispers that she could shoot the deer and show him, but she silences the thought, knowing Who it really came from. She wasn't going to take her aggressions out on some poor baby, even if she was annoyed with who it kept company. That wasn't her.

So instead, she tries to focus all her attention on the target to relieve her frustrations. She notches another arrow into her bow and shoots. However, her irritation seems to be muddling her mind worse than she thought, for the arrow hits the outer edge of the target instead. She makes an angry noise in her throat, before grabbing other arrow and notching it as well.

[woodking]

Killing the fawn - or attempting to kill it, anyway, because Thranduil would have done his best to prevent her accomplishing her goal, even if it meant being injured himself (elves healed quickly, and beyond that there was at least one healer of note here) - would have been a bad idea. Aside from the One from whom such impulses tended, it would have made a needless enemy from one who was a bad enemy to have.

Thranduil softly strokes the little fawn's ears when it nosed his hand and stood, casually considering her as she turned and shot. She was angry - why he wasn't entirely sure, other than the general fact that she did not seem to like him too much. It was that as much as anything that stopped him from moving forward to help her. He was still in many ways a stranger here, after all.

[wizard_redfive]

It really would have been. After all, besides angering Thranduil and possibly other residents, it might have set the Powers that Be against her. Dairine has no intention of getting grounded again, or worse yet, losing her wizardry permanently.

She doesn't hate him, not really. Dislike was as close as she got, but as annoying as the elf could be with his royal tone and habit of doing things too perfectly, he hasn't given her reason to hate him yet.

Still, the annoyance was enough to drive her aggression. She fires again, once again hitting the outer edges. She makes a tch sound, then quickly fires again, only to hit the next circle in. Frustrated, she doesn't even bother firing the rest of her arrows, instead stomping over to the target to retrieve the few already stuck there.

[woodking]

Thranduil does not move, but watches her movements, watches as she stomps forward to retrieve her arrows. It would likely be overstepping bounds to offer advice, but she would profit from it, if she would listen.

[wizard_redfive]

It's up in the air whether she would listen or not, at least at the moment. She's too stubborn, too full of frustration. It made her more difficult to reason with.

She struggles to get the second arrow out, for although it only hit the outer edge, it had burrowed deep into the target. She must have been pulling back too far or something. Finally, she manages to yank it out with a frustrated growl, then stomps back to her original stop. She glares at Thrandruil on her way there, almost challenging him to say something. She's sure he is mocking her inside his mind anyway.

[woodking]

He tilts his head as he watches her, then casually walks closer.

"If you adjust your stance, your shots will be more accurate." There's no note of mockery in his voice, whatever she may think, merely cool interest.

[wizard_redfive]

Whether or not he means it to be mockery, that's exactly how she hears it. She scowls.

"I already know the proper stance." She's already had both Barton and Katniss grill her on it, of course she knows. At least as far as their methods are concerned. Knowing in principle is different than practice though, and in her annoyance Dairine's stance has indeed deteriorated further and further.

[woodking]

"Then you have let yourself become careless." He does not say, yet, that she does not know what she is talking of, for she might - it would not be just to dismiss her claims before giving her a chance to prove them. But what she has done thus far has not done so.

[wizard_redfive]

Something inside her snaps.

"Well maybe I wouldn't be if you'd stop staring!" she yells. Someone is feeling a bit too self conscious.

[woodking]

Thranduil doesn't react, particularly - he doesn't jump at her sudden yelling, or back off. He remains where he is, expression the same, everything the same.

"And what would you do if put under worse pressure than this? It's not much use if you cannot shoot straight when you have cause to, and such situations are rarely calm."