Eternity in a Box
By Ladyravena
Chapter Three: Lyn
"And what does my fine huntress have that she thinks I need in the wild?" Thrawn teased her, leaning forward on the sofa.
"Oh, this and that," she teased, unrolling a long tube and several compact pouches from a thick oilskin bag. "First thing first," she said, "and small things before big." She handed him a small, well-wrapped package.
His fingers fumbled a little with the knots that held it together. "My dear, buckles are a wonderful invention," he teased, as the last knot finally loosened.
"The holes can wear out, you know."
He rolled his eyes at her, and opened the package. Inside, neatly sectioned off in little pockets, thick thread was wrapped around several spools. Needles of several sizes were all aligned in a row, along with long, stiff pins. Intrigued, he looked in several of the pockets, finding patches in oilskins and plain fabric. A rolled ruler was tied securely in the last of the pockets.
"I noticed the last time I was here that the entire stock of your mending kit consisted of one button, a spool of thread and the comm number of the local tailor," Lyn said, smiling. "I don't believe that they do pick-up and delivery after hours."
He smiled wistfully. "Oh, they do, but the fees are astronomical."
She nodded, pulling out the next item from her bag. As Thrawn tilted his head to see what it was she brought out, she laughed. "It's just a few things that were just collecting dust in my grandfather's study." With that, she handed him the tube.
There was quite a bit of weight to it, whatever it was. With a quizzical look at Lyn, he slowly unscrewed the top. Tipping it carefully, he slid the contents out. The stiff tip of ancient horn poked into his hand as the long composite bow slid out onto his lap. The longer top half, combined with the shortened lower section gave the bow all the power of the traditional 5 foot bow, but the convenience of a shorter bow. The arms of the bow were heavily carved along the ivory, ancient scenes of hunting and blessings shining in the low light, even along the belly of the bow. Even the bridges, used to hold the string a little farther from the edge of the tip, adding both weight and speed to the arrow, were carved and polished.
"Lyn," he gasped, shocked at the gift, carefully holding the bow out to her, "this should be in--"
"A museum? So it will be catalogued and stuck in the back room, never to be seen again? There are a dozen bows like this one in every museum on this fine ice ball of a planet." She closed his hands over the bow and pushed it back lightly at him. "Giving it to you, it will actually be used for its purpose. Grandfather would be pleased by that, as he didn't have the strength to use it after he bought it."
Thrawn swallowed slightly, his fingers still cradling the bow with a hesitancy that touched Lyn.
"Why not see if you can string it, and actually pull an arrow to a fireable position." Pulling a wax-coated linen string from another package beside the arrows, she showed him how to slip the ends onto the bridges. She nudged the package of assembled arrows toward him. Slowly Thrawn pulled one out, marvelling at the smooth fletching on the end, and moved to the other side of the room. Lyn stood behind him, and guided his hands into the correct positions. "Relax," she whispered in his ear, "or you'll snap the arrow in that iron grip of yours."
Balanced on the top stair, unnoticed by Thrawn, a large slab of building foam was braced for impact. One single X marked the center. "Take a deep breath," she said softly, her breath just behind his ear, "and let the tension leave your arms. Keep your eyes on the target, the arrow follows the eye line, so if you see something else, the arrow will follow where you look. Draw smoothly, but steadily toward you. The fletching will provide a straight thrust for the arrow, right where you want it to go. Aim with the eye, keeping both open. Let loose when you are calm enough to let go, but watch your fingers. Let go all at once."
A quiet thunk startled Thrawn. Saalin whooped behind him, applauding. The arrow still shook a little, barely a hand-breadth away from the center of the target.