So a few months ago, BrokenKestral asked, "I've always wanted to see Lucy and Susan teaching Jill archery?"

It took me a while, BrokenKestral, but here you go ?

This bit is set after the Jill-meets-the-Pevensies story, but before Susan was totally in denial of Narnia.

Grey England
Chapter 12: Archery Lessons

"…and it's the last badge I need to get this season. So, do you think you can help?" Jill twisted one of her blonde locks anxiously as she waited Lucy's response.

The older girl sat back in her chair and gave her an unreadable look. "I'm all right when it comes to archery, but for the real expert, we'll want Susan." She said, after a moment. "Only, recently she's been a bit touchy about Narnian things, for some reason."

"Do you think she'll say no?" Jill was crestfallen. She had gone to all the workshops offered from the Girl Guide group she'd recently joined, but she just couldn't seem to get the hang of shooting.

It was doubly frustrating because all the other outdoorsy Guide activities seemed to come naturally: orienteering, and pathfinding, and creating shelter in the woods. But as soon as Jill picked up a bow, she might as well just try throwing the arrow by hand. Her arrows might go farther that way. They'd certainly have no less impact when they landed.

The group's archery instructor seemed equally baffled at Jill's singular talentlessness, and finally told Jill to perhaps think about pursuing a different badge for now, or just accept she'd never earn the Archery one.

"Your other option," the woman said, "is to find a true expert to see where you're going wrong. I can't see it. You seem to be doing everything right. But you'd have to find someone world-class to teach you." Forestalling Jill's next question: "I don't know of anyone around here, I'm afraid."

Rather than accept defeat, this only fueled Jill to track down anyone she could think of who might be able to help: gamekeepers, huntsmen, sportsmen. Most of them ignored her questions. One, an elderly fellow, had given her a sympathetic smile, but shook his head.

"Fifteen years ago, I might have been able to help you, missy, but my eyesight's about gone now. Fifty years ago, the Court still held hunts, and you might have been able to find help among the hangers-on. But now? With most of the young men sick of shooting anything for any reason?" He shook his head. "I'm sorry I cannot offer help, but I wish you luck."

Jill had thanked him, and went home to think.

Then, of course, it struck her: The Pevensies knew something about archery, didn't they? She was sure Miss Plummer had mentioned one of the girls being known as an archer at some point.

So she'd called Eustace, who'd called Lucy, who'd called Jill back and invited her over to spend a week-end, and here she was.

"It depends," Lucy answered Jill's question about whether Susan would say no.

"On what?"

"On whether she thinks archery too Narnian to discuss, or if she considers it an English enough sport to cause no comment. And who she is with when we ask her."

"Oh, you'll ask for me?" Jill was relieved. Even after knowing the Pevensies for some months, Susan still seemed a bit of a remote figure, to her.

"Of course!" Lucy said. "She's gone to meet up with a friend from school, but when she gets back, we'll ask her."

"Thank you!"

"Now, I can't make promises on Susan's behalf," Lucy cautioned her. "She may say no. And if that's the case," she continued, "I'll help you as best I may. But you may not be much better off than you are now, in that case. I'm all right, but I'm no expert by any means."

"I understand. I just appreciate your taking the time to help. If you can't help me understand what's wrong, I suppose I'll give it up for the time being, and see what other badges I can earn instead. But I do hope you can help me!"

Susan soon arrived with her friend Celeste in tow. Lucy was glad to see her: of all Susan's friends, Celeste was among the least likely to cause Susan to feel like she needed to 'show off' how grown-up she was. And she was the most likely to join in to whatever kinds of fun the Pevensies concocted.

While they all were eating dinner, Margaret smiled at Jill. "How was the train here, Jill?" she asked.

"Oh, fine, Mrs Pevensie." Jill answered. "Thank you."

"And what are you girls up to this weekend, that you made such a trip?"

"Jill is working on her Archery badge for the Girl Guides," Lucy volunteered. "She was hoping we might be able to help her a little, as she's a bit stuck."

"Susan, you were fond of archery for a while after returning from Professor Ketterly's house, weren't you?" Mr Pevensie asked.

Celeste said, "For a while after, too; you were one of the better archers at school these past few years."

Susan laughed. "Well, let's face it: nobody at school, myself included, would survive off our archery skills. But I'm not bad, I suppose."

"Would you like to come with us tomorrow?" Lucy asked. "We're just going to mess about a little and see what we can see to help Jill."

"Your bows are out in the shed," Edmund said. "I'll bring them in to warm them up, if you like."

"Do you mind?" Susan asked Celeste. She looked excited at the prospect of shooting. "We'd have to postpone our trip into town."

"Oh, there's nothing much going on in town, anyway, it was just something to do. This sounds interesting!" Celeste agreed. "Maybe I can learn, also."

"Too bad Pete isn't here," Edmund said. "He always likes these kinds of rambles."

"Did you want to come too, Ed?"

"And crash your girlish conversations about what boys you like? Never!"

"We are going to help Jill with her archery," Lucy said firmly. Then added with a smile, "If we want to talk about boys, we can slip away and do that any time."

Edmund eyed them narrowly. "This is a ploy to get me to carry things," he guessed. "But all right, I'll go too if you'll have me."

Mr Pevensie shook his head in mock sorrow. "Ed, my boy, you see the trap and are stepping straight into it. While I appreciate your willingness to help your sisters… Have I taught you nothing?"

Mrs Pevensie swatted him at this, causing the whole table to laugh, and conversation moved on to other things.

In the morning, the five of them trooped across town to some disused fields where any arrows that went astray shouldn't pose too great of a hazard.

As predicted, Edmund was carrying the bows and a quiver full of arrows, but as he'd grabbed them up and wouldn't let anyone else carry them, he couldn't complain.

When the group arrived, Lucy and Jill went about setting up some sort of a butt to shoot at; it took them some time to heap up a pile of leaves and bracken, and eventually Lucy had to sacrifice a handkerchief so they'd have something at which to take aim.

Meanwhile, Susan and Edmund took the time to warm up and string the bows they'd brought, and check the strings and arrows for soundness. Celeste sat by and watched closely.

"All right," Susan said finally, lacing an arm guard over her left sleeve. "Let me get myself back into shooting a moment; Jill, you watch and see if I do anything you haven't been taught?" She shook her long glossy hair back. "Though I can't imagine your teacher would have skipped any of the essentials."

Putting action to words, she picked up her bow, and gave it a couple final gentle flexes to ensure its readiness before choosing an arrow and nocking it. She glanced at the makeshift target and got into the stance called for by the sport; after a second, she adjusted her footing slightly. Jill watched intently, but didn't speak.

In a smooth motion that belied her protestations that she was out of practice, Susan raised the bow in her left hand and drew the arrow back to her mouth, and hardly waited a breath before gently releasing the string, sending the arrow speeding on its way.

It struck in the pile of bracken just left of Lucy's handkerchief, quite a good shot. Susan, though, pulled a slight face. "I said I was out of practice," she said ruefully, but there was no real heat in the comment.

She chose another arrow, and this one was a little better: it hit the left edge of Lucy's handkerchief, and this seemed to mollify her. She turned. "Lucy? Do you want a turn?"

"Certainly," Lucy said, stepping forward with the other bow. "Jill, do you have any questions yet?" But Jill just shook her head, a frown of concentration on her face as she watched.

Lucy squared up, drew, aimed, and shot acceptably: one of her arrows struck the rightmost edge of the pile, and the other fell just slightly short, skidding a few inches before burying itself in the base of the pile.

"Well done, Su; not bad, Lu," Edmund said, heading over to retrieve the arrows. "Though I've seen you both shoot better in the past." He added meaningfully.

"We'll see how well you do!" Susan called, and turned to Jill, pressing her bow into her hand.

Eyeing the target, she dragged her foot in a line across the grass, leaving a faint mark. "It's not perfect, but it'll do for a shooting line. Now, Jill, let's see your stance."

"May I learn, as well?" Celeste asked diffidently, and Lucy, smiling, handed the other bow to her.

The two girls lined up, Jill lined up with the target, and Celeste a few feet behind her, copying her movements.

Susan walked around them both, looking hard. She adjusted Celeste's feet a bit. "The classic stance is to have your feet about hip-wide, and your feet should be in line with the shooting line–which isn't very straight," she admitted. "But your feet should be right with your knees and hips and shoulders, all of which are along a line just left of the target," she explained.

"Well, if you're right handed," Lucy commented idly.

"True. Lefties stand on a line just right of the target." Edmund said. "But there aren't so many archers who need to shoot from that side."

"There are times when you need to shoot on your left side anyway," Susan said absently, turning Jill's shoulders so they were better aligned with the handkerchief. "From horseback, you take whatever shots you can get."

"When were you shooting from horseback?" Celeste asked, interested, and Susan jumped.

"Oh—erm—"

"It was a long summer in the country during the Evacuation," Edmund put in blandly. "We got up to all sorts of tricks."

"Ah—yes—" Susan threw her brother a grateful glance. "In fact, it was that summer I learnt to shoot."

"All of us did," Lucy confirmed, biting back a smile. For Susan to have nearly slipped up, and in front of her own friend too! Usually it was Lucy who forgot she was in England, or standing near people who weren't Friends.

"How interesting!" Celeste said, not apparently noticing anything odd. "The family I got evacuated to ran a dairy with the cows that were left, so I learned a lot about cheese-making. But nothing like archery or sport."

"So, go ahead and shoot, Jill," Susan said briskly, hoping to move the conversation along. "Let's see."

Frowning in concentration, the blonde girl raised the bow, nocked an arrow, and drew the arrow back. After holding it a few seconds, she released the shot, which went widely to the right and buried itself in the ground a few yards before the target.

Jill's shoulders slumped at the poor shot. "You see? What am I doing wrong?"

"Hmm." Susan looked at her thoughtfully. "Loose another arrow."

She did, with similar results.

"Celeste, step up and shoot," Susan asked, frowning a bit, looking between Jill and Celeste. Her friend squeaked.

"Me?"

"You said you wanted to learn, didn't you?"

"All right…" The other girl stepped into Jill's place.

Susan showed her how to nock an arrow and draw it. "When you're ready to shoot, you raise your arms together, and draw the arrow back; look at the target and focus on pointing the tip where you want the arrow to go, then just relax your hand. The bow will do the rest," she said.

Celeste gave her an uncertain look, and shakily raised the bow and drew the arrow back. "Oh, that's harder than it looks," she said halfway through, and relaxed her arms.

"Archery takes practice," Lucy said. "Don't worry if you don't get it right off."

Celeste tried again, with smoother results this time. She released the string and her arrow zinged a little high, thudding into the ground a few feet short of the target. "Oh," she said, and tried again. The next shot was a little better in line with the target, but still a bit high and short.

"You're tensing up at the end," Lucy said. "You're pointing upward just as the arrow is going. Relax."

Celeste shot a third time, and the arrow skidded into the edge of their makeshift butt.

"Good job!" Edmund exclaimed, heading out to retrieve the latest set of arrows. "I don't think I did so well my first time."

Susan looked at Jill, who seemed more frustrated now. "I've been practicing for months," she said. "What am I doing wrong?"

"I have an idea," Susan said thoughtfully. "Take your stance, but don't put an arrow up."

Jill did. "Now, point your finger and aim like you would if you had an arrow. Then hold it." Jill did this as well, and Susan stepped right in front of her, looking at her closely.

The others stood back and exchanged quizzical glances.

"Now, look at the target. No, not at me–aim like you're shooting at the handkerchief."

Frowning, Jill did. Her gaze shifted, her head turned, and her stance shuffled around a little. She dropped her arms. "Ugh! I don't understand it. I just can't stay in the right stance!"

But Susan was looking at her with an air of triumph. "I think I know what's happening."

Jill looked at her in astonishment. She hadn't really expected to find an answer. "You do?"

"I think so. Let's test something. Lucy, do you have another handkerchief?"

"No," Lucy said, "Just the one that's our target, now. Nobody tell Mother that's where it went, please," she added mischievously.

"Ed?" Her brother was already rummaging in his pockets, looking curious. He found a folded square of snowy white fabric and handed it over.

Susan tied the cloth around Jill's head on an angle, covering the girl's left eye.

"It's awkward, but it should do the trick if I'm right," she said. "Jill, try to shoot now."

"How?" Jill complained. "I can't half see."

"You can," Susan promised her. "Try."

Frowning in concentration, Jill squared up and drew, her head turning to the left to allow her to see out of her uncovered right eye. Thwip! Her arrow flew much straighter, burying itself to the right of the target.

Susan adjusted Jill's shoulders. "Again."

Another arrow; another target strike, this one better. Susan's shoulders relaxed. "Again." She wasn't surprised when this one pinned the upper right corner of Lucy's handkerchief to the pile of bracken.

Jill's mouth fell open, and she tore the half-blindfold off her face to peer at her arrows, unmistakably pointing out of the makeshift target. "But… how? What did you do?" She demanded.

Susan was looking at her thoughtfully. "I think you're cross-sighted." She said.

"What?"

"You use your right hand for writing and doing things, yes?"

"Yes."

"Cross sighted is when you aim with your off eye," Susan explained. "Most people's eyes match their hands, but some people aim better with their opposite eye. Let's check."

She had Jill focus hard on the white blot of the handkerchief, and had her hold her hands up and make a small window between her overlapping thumbs and index fingers.

"Now, keep looking and focusing on the handkerchief," she said. "Bring the window closer to your face—no, keep looking out, not at your hands. Yes. Bring your hands closer. Closer–"

"Ah!" Jill said, surprised to find her hands around her left eye. "Clearly, you're right. But what do I do for shooting?"

"I remember this, I think," Edmund said slowly. "You need to baffle the off eye, don't you?"

"Yes. So you can use an eyepatch or a blindfold as one option," Susan said, nodding. "Or you can learn to shoot with your other hand instead, which some people say works better because your aim is truer. You mostly aim with your eyes, after all; the hands tend to follow, with practice."

"I—hm." Experimentally, Jill picked up the bow in her right hand and pulled the string back with her left. "That feels odd," she commented.

"But your head is staying still and focused, which is what you want," Lucy commented. "So perhaps that will work better for you."

"Let's see," Jill said, and shot another arrow. While a little shaky, this was her best shot yet. "I think you're right, Susan! That felt like my teacher said it ought to–like everything came together smoothly."

"Wonderful!" Susan cheered her. "I suppose you'll have to practice left-handed shooting, now, though."

"I'll practice both ways," Jill said determinedly. "Now I know what's wrong and I can do something about it."

"May I have another turn?" Celeste asked diffidently. "I know we're here to help Jill, but this is quite fun."

"Certainly. And then Ed can show us his skill," Lucy said teasingly.

Her brother, hearing her tone, snorted. "Oh, I'll be glad to give you ladies a laugh," he said.

"Surely you're not that bad," Celeste said. "If you are, I certainly won't know better!"

"Oh, trust me, on my bad days, a child would know I'm an indifferent archer at best," Edmund said ruefully. "But when push comes to shove, I can manage all right."

"So long as you have a plentiful supply of arrows," Lucy said, sotto voce, and he mock-scowled at her. "I'm just saying lots of arrows help!" she answered his look, hands spread wide, then laughed at his rolled eyes.

"Abuse, that's all I get," he complained, heading over to retrieve the arrows.

They spent the rest of the afternoon there, until Jill felt more solid and all their arms were sore from the exercise. On their way home, Celeste and Edmund led the way, chatting to one another.

Jill, Lucy, and Susan brought up the rear, talking together. And of course, Jill had questions about Narnia.

"You know, when Puddleglum would hunt us our dinner while we were camping in the wilds, I had no idea it took such skill," she commented. "He made it seem easy."

"Marshwiggles do have those long, flexible limbs. In our time, those who took up the sport had a lot of strength to use," Lucy answered. "Though I can't think of many who did. Can you, Su?"

"No," Susan said. "But in our time, the Marshwiggles tended to be more insular. I can't think I met more than a dozen in all our years there. Lucy may have met more, because she did more traveling, though."

"May I ask a question?" Jill said.

"Certainly."

"Did you ever have to shoot… at anyone? You know… like in battle?"

There was silence for a few steps. Then the sisters sighed, almost in unison. "Unfortunately, yes," Susan allowed, and shuddered. "Though I hate the necessity of it. But if you ever have to, aim your arrows well: your enemies cannot kill you if that is their intent, and better to grant them a swift end than a painful, lingering death." She said.

"True. Arrow wounds hurt." Lucy agreed. "Susan usually worked to prevent the situations that would make shooting at anyone needful, but it didn't always work."

"I much prefer shooting at a target. At wild game, at worst. Other Talking creatures…" She shuddered again. "I wish I never had to."

"We did what we had to do," Lucy said bracingly, putting a hand on Susan's shoulder. "And we know that whenever possible, we worked to prevent things escalating into outright battle."

"But there were times when we were caught off guard," Susan reminded her, and Lucy's mouth tightened.

"You cannot hold yourself responsible for the rash decisions of an utter fool, Susan," she said firmly. But Susan gave her a look that said otherwise; and wisely, Jill decided not to ask who was so foolish just then.

But she'd be sure to get the tale out of Lucy later.

"Hi! Slowpokes, hurry up! You're falling behind!" Edmund called from ahead just then, and all three girls picked up the pace to hurry home, where their bows could go back in the shed and only be taken out for target practice.

Not being in Narnia anymore did have its positive sides, after all.

Thoughts? Let me know! And a happy New Year to everyone. I hope 2021 brings our world more better days than not.