Wednesday, May 16, 2012

His bow was always ready and he kept his arrows sharp...

Being a nerdy bookworm is hard work. Not only do we have to read the book, but we have to devour it and let it take over our entire lives. For instance, when I read Harry Potter I had to find out what house I would be in. Thanks to Pottermore I have discovered that I was a Slytherin (something that not only shocked me, but my friends and family as well). So when I went through my medieval phase during my preteens and read books like King Arthur, Robin Hood, and Otto of the Silverhand, I automatically decided that my weapon of choice had to be the bow and arrow. For some reason, out of all of the heroes in books, whether they be the super or ordinary, my favorite by far has been Robin Hood. His impeccable skills with the bow and arrow, his chivalrous acts, his undying love for Maid Marian, well—it’s enough to make me swoon.

But sadly I have yet to use a bow and arrow that is until about three weeks ago when I went to the Renaissance Faire. Not only is the fair filled with history loving folk and fairies but it also has lessons in all medieval forms of fighting and self defense. So you will have to trust me when I say that I was very excited for that Sunday outing. Finally I was going to confirm, not only to my friends, but to myself, that I was meant to be an archer.

Racing to the booth, I gave the lady manning the counter five dollars in exchange for eleven arrows and a bow. Putting ten of my arrows into my quiver, I loaded my bow and pulled back it’s string only to have the arrow drop out immediately. Laughing it off, I reloaded my bow and tried again only to have the same repercussions. But I didn’t give up, I kept trying and trying and at one point I almost had it only to discover that pulling that string back was a lot harder than I had thought. And then, of course, the arrow fell out.

Out of nowhere, my own Robin Hood came to save the day. A Robin Hood that was maybe three years younger than me, one of the workers behind the booth, and making fun of me in his head the entire time. Something he admitted to me later. Anyway, he was the best sort of teacher, he didn’t say a single word to me through out the entire lesson making me feel pathetic which in turn wanted me to impress him so that he would stop giving me the cold shoulder. A problem I have always had.

Through his silence he taught me how to position my left wrist and how not to pinch the arrow. He even fixed my disgraceful posture. After much fixing and glaring, he morphed me into what looked to be an archer. Which only mean one thing, we had to find out if I really was, if the bow and arrow really was my weapon of choice. Pulling back the string, I thanked God my arrow did not fall out and squinted my eye, trying to in line my arrow with the intended target. With a deep inhale, I let go. The arrow flew past me taking me by surprise and hit the red ring around the yellow bulls eye.

I had done it. I was an archer.

After that the other ten arrows flew through my fingers effortlessly—well, almost effortlessly. And in that moment it was decided that, with some practice, I would one day make a great archer. Pulling out a notebook, I wrote down everything I had learned and relished the fact that I had completed something off my bucket list. I also noted that I should not take up the Javelin or knife throwing, because one try was embarrassing enough.

The title is taken from the lyrics of Robin Hood, a famous folk song.

1 comment:

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