15-Aug-2005
Warnings: PWP - the non-lemony kind. And not a g-boy in sight, dammit.
Relena was walking through a Renaissance Faire alone one day (having managed to give the slip to the Not-So-Perfect Bodyguard, Heero Yuy, yet again) when she happened upon an archery booth. It wasn't the usual sort she'd seen elsewhere in the Faire, with the assorted targets set up on a variety of stands, but a live-target one, with an armored man daring all comers to shoot him.
Three giggling girls had just managed to totally fail to hit a man-sized target less than ten feet away from them, and the target - we'll call him Sir Target, just because - sent them on their way with taunts about how they should go back to their knitting and leave the archery to the men. He called out to a random guy passing out that he should come show the ladies how a man shot a bow.
Relena paused to watch, and sniffed lightly as the man in question managed to do just as badly while looking more ridiculous because of the cockiness with which he'd taken up the challenge. He took his three shots, missed them all, and slunk away with his figurative tail between his legs.
Well, he certainly taught them a lesson, Relena thought dryly.
Just as she was beginning to turn away, she heard Sir Target say something that proved to her that she'd spent entirely too much time around Dorothy Catalonia. "Go on wit' ye, ye shoot like a woman!"
That crystalized things for her. She'd been fighting the temptation to play a bit herself - it had been years since she'd picked up a bow, but she'd enjoyed archery when she'd had the chance as a girl. Now, though, she had the honor of her gender to uphold. Marching over to the booth, she offered two credits to the wench taking money. "That will get ye six shots, my lady," the wench said. "Would you be needing a bit of instruction?"
"No, thank you," she said politely, taking a bow and nocking her first arrow. "I know how to shoot." Taking a position at the firing line, she advised Sir Target that he might wish to step back a few paces.
Sir Target, of course, merely laughed and made comments about how women couldn't hit the broadside of a barn from two feet away.
Relena ignored the taunts as she moved into a proper firing stance, left arm extended in front of her as she turned her body, letting the motion flow into pulling the string back, settling the nock next to the corner of her mouth. She sighted along the length of the shaft, compensated for the weight of the heavy mass of padding on the tip, and loosed.
THWOCK!
He actually staggered back a step as the padded arrow slammed into his chest. The bow she'd picked was the only one of the lot that had any real draw to it, and at such a short distance it packed quite a punch.
"Lucky shot!" he mocked - but he didn't take a step forward to make up for the involuntary retreat. She lifted a brow as she nocked her next arrow, moving smoothly again into her firing stance.
THWOCK!
He didn't step back this time - he'd used his shield to defend himself. But it was another solid hit. And somehow, he wasn't mocking her (or her gender) any more - he was simply daring her to get past his shield.
THWOCK!
Another hit to the shield, but she'd almost gotten him.
THWOCK!
That time, she got past it, a solid hit to the shoulder.
THWOCK!
A hit to the other shoulder this time. He challenged her to hit him in the helmet this time.
THWOCKLANG~!
It wasn't the brightest dare he'd ever made. He staggered back again as the last arrow slammed into his helmet. Fortunately, he'd instinctively ducked a bit so it glanced off his helmet just as it was intended to. It still rocked him a bit, but he shook it off easily and gave her a little salute of respect as she handed the bow back to the wench who had given it to her.
Modestly, she thanked the wench as she was complemented on her prowess and walked off, enjoying the thrill of her victory. It was a minor one, of course, but it was one untainted by the knowledge of innocents being harmed.
The End
Author's Notes: Based on a real incident, and upon one of my more minor literary peeves.
Note the use of the title words in the story: they look similar, they sound similar. Their meanings are not even close.
Someone is taught a lesson in humility. A bowstring is pulled taut. And Sir Target taunted passersby to make them want to shoot him.
Oh, and an amusing side note - when I came to the booth again later that day, the wench who took my money was a different one than I'd seen earlier, and asked if I knew how to shoot. I didn't even have to answer: the wench that I'd met before told her that I definitely [u]did[/u] know how to shoot and that she should just give me a bow and sit back to watch the show! :lol:
(:./rt/ttt)
