In the summer, I remember

[rowancrowned]

WHO: Thranduil, Legolas, anyone good with a bow or who enjoys the wine on offer.
WHAT: ROOTY TOOTY POINT N SHOOTY ARCHERY CONTEST
WHEN: 8th of Bloomingtide, midmorning until sunset.
WHERE: Valley
NOTES: log for a friendly wager! 

The eighth of Bloomingtide began as a chilly morning; not quite cold enough to leave frost on the budding flowers and fresh-sprouted plants in the heights of Skyhold, but nearly, nearly.

By the time the sun was been in the sky for a few hours, most of the early-morning chill had burned off, leaving a day that promised to be nearly too-hot for those who would be stuck in full-plate and in direct sunlight. Thranduil wasn’t expecting any to come clanking down to his little fete, but had none the less secured a spot in the shade. Varric had apparently found him while he was still working on organizing—the target launchers are set neatly in line with everything else. Along the clay pigeon launchers were the standard, stock targets, blindfolds—and on a table off to the side was a few bottles of sweet wine beside loaves of brown bread and hard cheeses.

The contest did not pretend to be anything other than what it was; a chance to meet, and mingle, and possibly show off archery skills. The purses wrested next to the wine and cheese and Thranduil himself. He had found a chair to rest in while waiting for the contestants to arrive, dressed plainer than he had so far allowed himself to be seen. On his fingers, four rings glittered—but his confidence in Legolas was so absolute, he doubted he would lose even one before the days was out.

Comments

Re: Sherlock Holmes | OTA

[the_effect_she_has]

Well, Katniss is another person who is watching the competition closely. She nods her head at the dark haired man with the ... flipped up collar - really, was there any need to be that dramatic? - and nods, quietly impressed.

So he was one to beat. Good to know.


She took her next turn after him, and sank each shot from further back, right into the middle of the target.

After she was done - she went to grab a few grapes herself, and give him a curt if not respectful nod.

[seesobserves]

He'd barely turned away from the tray of food in time to see her arrow hit home. His had hit the bulls-eye, though the strictest of measurements would have found they weren't exactly dead center. They would have had a tougher time of it with hers.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow at the show of skill, though he did not meet her eyes until she greeted him first. His expression was receptive, and he tipped his head a little in response. Nice shooting, he'd seem to say.

And still, he didn't speak until he'd finished his snack.

"Let's make it fun." With that, he slung his bow over his shoulder and went back into the field, picking up one of the blindfolds on the way.

He stood as far back as she had, and had one of the observers tie the scrap of cloth tight around his eyes. They made him spin around three times before letting him stop, facing him roughly in the direction of the target.

Sherlock notched his arrow, felt the angle of the wind, adjusted his aim in one swift motion as he raised his bow. One more breath, and the arrow flew. It struck the target on the inside edge of the bulls-eye.

Sherlock pulled off the blindfold and assessed his work. Not quite as accurate as hers had been, but then, she'd had her sight.

[the_effect_she_has]

She nodded in kind, a silent statement, Yours as well. She was quiet by nature, and beyond that? Food. She popped a few more grapes into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully as he offered to 'make it more fun'..

One corner of her mouth lifted, and she nodded at the challenge. She followed him out, watching him make the shot. He got another nod, Not bad, before she took her spot. Had the blindfold tied around her eyes, had herself spun around three times, before she notched her bow.

Listened ... to the wind whistling around the edges of the target. Set her feet, feeling the ground for the best stance. Notched her arrow, adjusting her grip to the feel of the wind across her cheek. Aimed.

Breath.

Fired.

Dead center. Thunk.

[seesobserves]

For as much as Sherlock kept his ear to the ground for well-known and notorious talents of all kinds, his network had never extended quite as far as Redcliffe. She was someone new.

Yet that didn't mean he couldn't learn anything about her. He watched her technique, from the way she stood to how she notched her bow. A heavy tan, long hours spent outdoors. Hunter, not soldier. She may not have spoken, but he didn't have to hear her accent to notice the Ferelden craftsmanship of her clothing or her weapon. And she certainly wasn't Avaar, nor from the Storm Coast or Amaranthine (or he would have heard of her already) — which likely placed her in the Hinterlands.

All of this was taken in casually, filed away without any need to comment out loud. Not yet, at least.

"Hitting a target without the advantage of sight," he noted. "Most people would classify it as a 'trick shot.'"

He wondered if she thought differently.

[the_effect_she_has]

Had his network reached that far, then he would have heard of her. Locally, she was something of a legend for her accuracy with a bow. Not to mention a few other things.

She pulled away the blindfold, looking over at him with one arched dark eyebrow.

"Most people haven't had to hunt for their supper in the pouring rain, when you can't see a foot in front of your face."

She shrugged, as if to say, 'What can you do?', before adding, "But I have a fair number of trick shots."

[seesobserves]

He was more than willing to bow to her skill, after all that. Had the competition been about something more mentally focused... but that was beside the point.

Still, she seemed to be angling for another chance to show off, and what he was looking for today — among other things — was just who he could rely on the most, if they should wind up in the field together.

His eyebrows went up again. "Oh?"

[the_effect_she_has]

Had it been something more mentally focused - Katniss herself would admit she was nowhere in the field. Clever, yes. Brilliant? Never. Her job was to keep people like Sherlock alive.

A quick nod, before she handed over the blindfold, and eyed the targets. She took another few steps back, and then, a few steps away, letting out a breath before she took off in a flat run - firing as she did so, with the same deadly accuracy, flipping through a roll for another shot, and then hopping up on a fence for the last, balancing on one foot to take out the last target.

Dead center.

She put a great deal of work into her archery, and it did show.

[seesobserves]

Impressive indeed. He waited until she had made her way back to the sidelines before he finally offered his hand.

"Sherlock Holmes."

[the_effect_she_has]

She heads back, snagging her arrows as she did so. Walking back up to him, she lifted both eyebrows, before lifting her hand to take it. Shake his hand firmly.

"Katniss Everdeen."

[seesobserves]

He nods in acknowledgment of the name, filing it away. Some names are worth remembering.

"And how long has it been since you traded in fennec-hunting for the Inquisition?"

[the_effect_she_has]

Taking a step back, her grey eyes narrowed in thought.

"Just over six months ago. Yourself?"

[seesobserves]

"The same." And he's largely kept to himself, holed up in the Undercroft. It doesn't bother him that they haven't run across each other before — after all, the Inquisition's ranks are growing every day.

"Not as many fennecs up in Amaranthine, though." That was a joke, sort of. As well as a nod to her superior skill. All the things he'd ever had to shoot had been much bigger than a fennec.

[the_effect_she_has]

She arched both eyebrow together at that - and she hadn't seen him once? But to be fair, she had been doing a lot of training and wasn't likely to notice people outside of her particular range.

"No ... but very good deer hunting." One corner of her mouth lifted. "Rather fast, them." A nod of respect in kind - his accuracy was to be applauded.

[seesobserves]

"Faster than darkspawn, for the most part." Which he had more experience with. "But I prefer to shoot them from as far a distance as possible."

Anyone who didn't have a healthy fear of darkspawn, after all, was a fool.

[the_effect_she_has]

"No one wants to deal with darkspawn." Especially not her. "And ... most definitely does not want to deal with them up close."

She had already had her own personal fill of it for two life times.

[seesobserves]

"Heading for the Approach?" Not everyone was — but if she was, he would hope to see her there.

[the_effect_she_has]

She nods her head. "I'm part of the Inquisition - a scout - so ... I'll need to do some scouting."

She lifted an eyebrow. "You?"

[seesobserves]

He gave a curt nod of his own in response. "Excellent place to harvest deathroot." As well as other reagents.

"I'll see you there." With that, he stepped away, satisfied that he'd made a potentially valuable connection.