Middle earth: One - Shots, Drawings, and randomness 2

Skill - A tale from Gondolin

Thwat! Thwat! Thwat! The sound of an arrow being released from its bow and hitting the target sounded in the early morning air. Duilin walked out of his home and saw Larcaion standing there with arms that shook slightly as he pulled another arrow from his quiver, aimed, and fired.

"Larcaion? What are you doing up this early?" Duilin asked as he walked over.

"My lord!" Larcaion jumped and turned around. "I am just brushing up on my archery skills, my lord."

"I can see that. Yet, why are you doing it this early in the morning?" Duilin asked. He then took note of his arms. How they had a clear red mark on his left hand where the string of the bow had kept brushing against it. As well as his right hand was slightly bruised from constant use.

"Lacaion? Have you been up all night?" He asked.

"Uh...yes," He replied.

"Why?" Duilin asked.

"Since I couldn't sleep as well as I wanted to work on my aim," He replied.

"Well that's always good but you do need your rest. Since don't you have duty for helping protect the western gate?" Duilin asked.

"I am good," He said. "I just need some practice and then I will get ready for my guard duty."

"Larcaion. Your arms are shaking, you look worn out." Duilin said. "You should rest."

"My lord. I am fine," He said.

"Very well. Yet, can I ask you something?" Duilin asked.

"Of course my lord," He replied.

"Why do you feel the need to keep proving yourself?" Duilin asked. Larcaion fell silent and looked at the bow in his hand. The wood was carefully bent and crafted, a small design was etched into the wood of the bow. Along with a small note written in small careful letterings.

"Do you feel like you are not worth?" Duilin asked.

"I am not from Valinor my lord, I am the son of an Avari. I do not have the same grace as any of you have." He replied.

"That is not true. You have grace, not the same from Valinor but your own grace that no one can ever match." Duilin said. "You may be a son of an Avari but that does not matter. You are a warrior of the House of the Swallow. You have great skill and you do have skills that no one else can match because of you grew up. All the elves from Valinor were raised in homes, villages, and manors. None of them grew up in the woods, living among nature and having to learn how to survive. You have that to top us and you have no need to prove yourself for you already have."

"Thank you...my lord. That is very meaningful." He said bowing his head. Yet, when he looked up he gave a smile and said, "Nevertheless I still want to practice and push myself to better my skill."

"Very well. I can not stop you from practice but I can order you to go rest." Duilin said.

"Rest?" He replied.

"Yes, and see a healer to patch up your fingers," Duilin adds.

"Alright. If that's your order, I will do that." Larcaion said. "Yet, I can not do it for long. As said earlier I have to guard the western gate later today."

Duilin chuckles as Larcaion gathers his arrows and gives a slight bow before going back into the House of Swallows. Duilin smiles and follows after the young archer.

~~~

Much later, deep into the night, Duilin was up late working some last-minute paperwork that had to be done. Yet, the distant sound of thwat! Thwat! Thwat! Met his ears. He got up and went to the window to see Larcaion yet again standing there sending arrow after arrow at the target.

He gave a look at his desk and then turned his head back to his young warrior. He then left the room and walked outside. "Your shoulders have to be relaxed more," Duilin instructed.

Larcaion nods and relaxes his shoulders more to fire once more. Thwat!

"That's very good," Duilin said coming to stand next to Larcaion with his own bow in hand

"Thank you, my lord." Said Larcaion. "Yet what are you doing out here this late?"

"Late night practice," Duilin replied as he notched an arrow and fired. Thwat!

Larcaion smiles and picks up the next arrow and aims. He then let's the string slid off his fingers and Thwat! That sound, repeats throughout the night and well into the morning.