A/N I love you all!
""=common tongue.
-elvish-
translation from elvish.
It was midnight.
I had slipped into my lichen-green tunic and pale brown leggings a few minutes ago; and was now tip-toeing past Valiane's snoring form.
Banquets must really tire her out.
I hadn't slept at all, even though we had come in nearly two hours ago, judging by the full moon rising over the horizon.
My bow and quiver were leaning against the wall next to the door where I had set them. I picked them up, and walked out of the door.
Good thing I knew where the practice courts where- I was lucky to have passed them with Valiane.
In the sunny afternoon they had been filled with elves practicing archery, horseback riding, even sparring with fencer's foils.
In the pale moonlight they were deserted, except for a tale blond figure crouching behind a bush.
I stifled a laugh. He was trying to surprise me!
Time to show the misogynistic imbecile that women could do MUCH better than men.
At just about everything.
I doubled back, skirting bushes and a small stream until Legolas was directly in front of me.
From there I advanced slowly through several beds of tulips. What were tulips doing in Middle Earth? I thought distractedly.
I was ten feet away, eight, five,
I drew my bow.
Two...
"Hello Legolas, DARLING!" I said sweetly.
"-Yee!-" eek! he said in surprise, refraining to Elvish. Luckily, Aurora had transferred rudimentary knowledge of that language to me.
"What are you doing in a bush?" I said, sweeter still.
"Nothing." He replied brusquely. "What were YOU doing sneaking around?"
" I quote you on this one: 'nothing'."
He stood up, reaching over his shoulder for a gold-and-blue feathered arrow. He quickly strung his maple longbow (which, I might mention, is the near replica of MINE), and leveled it at a target fifty yards away.
"Watch and learn, DARLING."
His arrow went whizzing by, and a second later was buried a few inches deep in the target.
The near exact CENTER of the target.
But not quite.
It was less than half an inch too far to the right. I had seen him make the fatal mistake of swinging his bow up as he shot instead of bracing it against his foot.
A second later, another arrow was buried in the target. This one was feathered in gold and green.
It was MY arrow.
And it was in the exact center.
-elvish-
translation from elvish.
It was midnight.
I had slipped into my lichen-green tunic and pale brown leggings a few minutes ago; and was now tip-toeing past Valiane's snoring form.
Banquets must really tire her out.
I hadn't slept at all, even though we had come in nearly two hours ago, judging by the full moon rising over the horizon.
My bow and quiver were leaning against the wall next to the door where I had set them. I picked them up, and walked out of the door.
Good thing I knew where the practice courts where- I was lucky to have passed them with Valiane.
In the sunny afternoon they had been filled with elves practicing archery, horseback riding, even sparring with fencer's foils.
In the pale moonlight they were deserted, except for a tale blond figure crouching behind a bush.
I stifled a laugh. He was trying to surprise me!
Time to show the misogynistic imbecile that women could do MUCH better than men.
At just about everything.
I doubled back, skirting bushes and a small stream until Legolas was directly in front of me.
From there I advanced slowly through several beds of tulips. What were tulips doing in Middle Earth? I thought distractedly.
I was ten feet away, eight, five,
I drew my bow.
Two...
"Hello Legolas, DARLING!" I said sweetly.
"-Yee!-" eek! he said in surprise, refraining to Elvish. Luckily, Aurora had transferred rudimentary knowledge of that language to me.
"What are you doing in a bush?" I said, sweeter still.
"Nothing." He replied brusquely. "What were YOU doing sneaking around?"
" I quote you on this one: 'nothing'."
He stood up, reaching over his shoulder for a gold-and-blue feathered arrow. He quickly strung his maple longbow (which, I might mention, is the near replica of MINE), and leveled it at a target fifty yards away.
"Watch and learn, DARLING."
His arrow went whizzing by, and a second later was buried a few inches deep in the target.
The near exact CENTER of the target.
But not quite.
It was less than half an inch too far to the right. I had seen him make the fatal mistake of swinging his bow up as he shot instead of bracing it against his foot.
A second later, another arrow was buried in the target. This one was feathered in gold and green.
It was MY arrow.
And it was in the exact center.