I do not own anything in middle earth, or much of anything in modern earth for that matter
Anyway this is just a little ficlet I typed up since my Dad showed me how to use his bow yesterday (I take my book obsessions way to far and I'm becoming a half-elf archer), I'm not too good, but I hit a target four times today and I'm feeling excessively nifty.
She walked into the woods, far away from town to practice with her bow. When she thought she was sufficiently far enough away not to accidentally shoot anyone, she strung her bow by putting one end on the ground, extending her leg across it and bending the bow around her leg so that the string could reach the top end. She brushed the dirt off the lower end of her bow and put on her finger guard. It looked like three fingers cut off a leather glove attached to a rectangle that extended down the back of her hand and ended in a strap around her wrist.
She looked around for a target. There was a hill covered in brown leaves and a large yellow leaf had settled on top. A perfect target, and the hill would stop her arrows.
She closed her eyes and stretched out her left arm, looking for the place where her arm was perfectly comfortable, and did not "want" to move left or right. When she found it she opened her eyes; her arm was not straight out from her side, but a little to the front. She turned until her arm pointed at her target.
She took an arrow out of her quiver, and, with her left hand gripping the bow and her thumb extending to the right and diagonally up, rested the front of the arrow on her finger. She fitted the notch at the end of the arrow into the string where she had marked it so it was level. She curled the index and middle fingers of her right hand around the string, one above and one below the arrow. She pulled back the string, and braced her index finger against her tooth, so her hand would not shake and so that the distance she pulled back would be constant.
She took aim at the leaf, and uncurled her fingers, letting the string slide off her fingertips. Her arm was apparently too straight, as the string snapped into her arm, the arrow flipping harmlessly onto the ground as she dropped the bow and cursed.
This time she bent her arm a tiny bit away from the bow, and the arrow sailed towards the hill. It landed a foot away from the leaf. The leaf seemed to laugh at her, gaudy yellow and obnoxiously unperforated.
Four shots and corrections later, she struck the leaf dead center. She jumped up and down a few times.
"Next time you will think twice, nay, three times before mocking me!" she skipped over to collect her arrows in sheer joy, chanting "I hit it, I hit it, I hit it," in a sing-song voice. She stuck out her tongue at the leaf as she pulled the final arrow out of it and she thought she heard soft laughter behind her.
She quickly turned, but if anything had been there, she didn't see it now. Must have been the wind.
She hit the leaf four more times before dusk, and when night fell she retrieved the last of her arrows, removed her finger guard and unstrung her bow. When she turned to walk back to the inn she was staying at, an elf was standing in her path.
She curtsied, "Good evening to you, sir." She was not weak-minded or stupid as courtesans seemed to be, but did try to be polite.
"Good evening to you, I must say you taught that impudent leaf a lesson!" he said, smiling.
Surprised, she laughed, "How long have you been watching? I did not think elves to be spies!"
"I was sitting in a tree when you started shooting and cursing!"
Embarrassed, she said quickly, "My deepest apologies if I have intruded or offended you."
"Not at all, you were quite amusing." he said, smiling again.
They walked to town together, conversing and laughing.