Laconic
Title: Flight
Prompt: #1 - Poem
Summary: When he finally reads it, it shows him a lesson he's already learned.
Disclaimer: If I owned the rights to Arrow, I would be writing screenplays, not fanfiction, and I'd probably be doing a horrible job. :D
Notes: So, this is from a set of prompts from Halcyon Impulsion, which I received from MysteriousTwinkie because she's doing the same thing. I've been thinking on them for a while, and I finally came up with a little idea. It's not very long, but I think it serves its purpose. Anyway, reviews are always appreciated, if you feel so moved. :) The poem in this is "The Arrow and the Song" by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.
Oliver never quite understood the power of poetry until Felicity came into his life. He still remembers the first time he met her, when she made that reference to Hamlet, and he figured then that she was a fan of literature. But, as much as she likes the written word, poetry is probably her favorite.
Of course, he didn't realize this until much later, until after she officially joined the team. He'll never forget that it was raining that night, and so he decided to take the time for some extra target practice instead of hooding up and possibly getting pneumonia. In his mind, Starling City needed their Vigilante in perfect working condition, so he chose not to mark any names of the list that night.
He had made it through several quivers full of arrows already when he turned to see that Felicity was watching him instead of doing... whatever it was she did on her computers. To his relief, she didn't seem afraid, instead wearing a thoughtful, contemplative expression. "I can stop if you want me to," he offered gently, not wanting to upset her. She still harbored some tension after she thought he was going to harm that single father, so he didn't want to push his luck.
To his surprise, Felicity shook her head, smiling slightly. "No, it's fine," she assures him. "I was just thinking of how much that reminds me of this poem." She stops abruptly, he remembers, as if she's said more than she wanted to. But, then, it's Felicity, so she probably did; those were the days when she did the most rambling.
"What poem?" he prompted, quirking his eyebrow to emphasize his question as he moved closer to her computer desk.
She waved a hand. "You know, Longfellow," she said dismissively, but when she realized he wasn't going to let it go, she huffed. "It's from a poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 'I shot an arrow into the air, / It fell to earth, I knew not where; / For, so swiftly it flew, the sight / Could not follow in its flight.'" She looked up at him sheepishly, as though she should have been embarrassed by knowing the poem by heart. Before he could respond, she turned back to her computer work, humming some sort of tune under her breath—a tune that he still hears in his head every time he takes aim.
Now, as he reads it for the first time, he can't help but smile at the words:
"I shot an arrow into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where;
For, so swiftly it flew, the sight
Could not follow in its flight.
I breathed a song into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where;
For who has sight so keen and strong,
That it can follow the flight of song?
Long, long afterward, in an oak
I found the arrow, still unbroke;
But the song, from beginning to end,
I found again in the heart of a friend."