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The group made it back into the Inn and the elves and man went into their rooms. Farael told the brothers he might take an extra few minutes, yet fifteen minutes turned into half an hour and the man had not yet come back from his room. Tindomion was already thinking Farael had changed his mind and gone for a nap when he walked into the room. He was wearing a light mail and a black surcoat over it, with the image of the white tree on his chest. On his belt hung a short sword in its scabbard and slung over his shoulder were his bow and quiver. All this equipment was for showmanship rather than protection, but he had earned the privilege of wearing those clothes and he did so on every occasion that called for it. He also wore them on occasions that did not call for it, such as this one.
“I hope you forgive me if I am late, Master Elf, but I had not had time to wash these garments since I walked in after about a week in the jungle. They were not presentable enough for Telu…yaviel” he finished, after a glare from her brother. “Still, m’lady I have not been able to get this beautiful flower back in my clothes. Perhaps you’d care to help me?” he offered her the flower and she secured it again, this time on his mail, over his shoulder.
The trio went back out on the Inn’s grounds and Farael excused himself for a minute, running into the nearby trees. He came back shortly after carrying a piece of bark –which he found on the ground- he explained before the elves could complain. There was enough dirt on it to argue in favour of Farael and so the siblings did not complain when he carved a target on the wood. He laid it against a tree and counted twenty long steps from it. Then he explained what the contest would be like. Each would have five arrows, one point would be given for a shot on the centre of the target, half a point would be given for a shot right outside the centre and no points would be given for a miss. He offered going first to illustrate his own game. The arrows would have to be retrieved after each shot so that the target would not be too clogged and so Tindomion stood half-way to the target, hoping the man would be accurate enough not to hit him.
Farael nocked an arrow, pulled the string and released it in one soft motion. His aim was true and he hit the target almost dead centre. Tindomion retrieved the arrow, placed the makeshift target back on its spot and Farael tried again. This time he was not as accurate, gaining only half a point. Same thing happened on his following attempt. With two arrows left, he hoped he would not embarrass himself by missing yet he managed to hit centre on both tries. Having a score of four out of a possible five was quite a feat for any human archer, but the smug look in Tindomion’s face told him it might not be so for an elf.
The next to try was Teluyaviel. Her first try was slightly to the left of centre, but she corrected her aim and her following four attempts were right on the mark. With four and a half points she was on the lead, but judging by her brother’s smile, it would not be for too long.
Tindomion’s first attempt was right on the centre of the target. The following three were all but a carbon-copy of the first. Farael could see Teluyaviel’s disappointment as she was about to be bested by her older brother yet again, but that was not on Farael’s plans. As Tindomion was winding up to release his last arrow, Farael coughed rather noisily and grabbed his throat as if he were choking. Tindomion’s arrow went wild and far off the mark, while the man seemed to recover quite quickly. “My grand mother always said, keep your mouth shut else a fly finds its way in.” he explained, “ I guess she was right for I felt something go down my throat rather unexpectedly. I am fine now, let’s see how you did with that last arrow.” Farael walked over to the target rather dramatically and retrieved an arrow from the tree behind it. “Well, who could have known!! It seems the winner has been Teluyaviel!!” he bowed to her and to Tindomion’s dismay he even offered her his arm for the walk back into the Inn. “I will buy the best archer among us an ale, and her brother as well so that maybe after a little talk we will actually know each other better.” Tindomion’s frown was enough to tell that Farael’s little archery contest had not been enough to appease the elf.
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