A few days ago....
After the carriage had left S'jira at the inn, Peredhil returned by foot to his small apartment near Rhydin's port. As he walked, he recalled something that S'jira had told him earlier, when she had shown him the bow.
"That's it!" he exclaimed, a smile brightening his face. He stepped off the main road into a side alley. Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself for the inevitable wave of nausea and shut his eyes.
As Peredhil opened his eyes, he nearly doubled over. It had been months since he had Traveled, and he had forgotten how much energy it drained from him. He staggered a few steps, then steadied himself. Pulling himself upright, Peredhil took stock of his surroundings.
He was on a narrow cobblestone street that was lined on both sides by small kiosks and shops. It was well past midnight, so the street was deserted except for a young couple walking towards him from the opposite direction. They were engaged in conversation, but Peredhil turned away, pretending to study the items on display in one of the shop's glass window, as they came near him. He exhaled softly as they passed, quickening his pace until he had reached the very end of the street.
The last shop on the right was a humble sight. No windows offered a glimpse inside, and the bare wooden door was closed. A single candle rested in a silver holder over the door, barely enough to illuminate a small brass bell that hung next to it. Peredhil rang the bell and took a step back from the door.
"We're closed," a gruff voice called from inside. "The city sleeps, and so should you."
"Too late to see an old friend?" Peredhil responded quietly. He heard the sound of shuffling footsteps approaching the door. He beamed at the peephole, then heard a gasp of surprise as the door was swung open and a tall elf gaped at him.
"My lord!" the elf exclaimed. "You've returned!" The elf bowed low, his silver braids brushing the doormat.
"It is wonderful to see you again, Simoleon." Peredhil laid a hand on the man's shoulder. "Please stand. I am no longer King, my friend."
Simoleon frowned. "As you say, my lord. Though if you ever changed your mind, you would find that all of Elessar would support you."
"Elessar is far better off as a republic," Peredhil replied. "The people deserve to choose their leaders. Besides," he added with a grin, "if the republic were to disappear, then so would my legacy."
Simoleon waved a hand dismissively. "Pssh..." Ushering Peredhil inside, he offered him a seat, which Peredhil gladly accepted.
"What brings you here at this time of night then, my lord?"
Peredhil glanced around him. They were in a large foyer, empty except for the two chairs that they sat in. And, of course, the dozens of bows that adorned the walls. Longbows, crossbows, straight and recurve bows, composite and compound bows, even a couple of strange designs that Peredhil did not recognize.
"I came to purchase a bow," Peredhil said. As Simoleon sent him a confused look, he clarified with a laugh, "It is not for me. Rather, it is for a friend."
"She must be a special friend, to bring you back to Elessar at this time of night," Simoleon commented dryly.
"Aye, she is a dear friend," Peredhil responded, rolling his eyes, "but it is not like that. She has suffered greatly, and I thought that maybe I could help her."
"With a bow?" his friend smirked. "My lord, I think retirement has made your brain go soft."
"You aren't the first to note that," Peredhil retorted with a smile, "but I'm starting to wonder if I should take my business to someone who insults his clients a bit less. But I guess this is the price to pay for the best bowyer in the kingdom."
Simoleon raised his hands in surrender. "Fair enough, my lord. Please describe your lady-friend, and we'll figure out the perfect bow for her."
A couple of hours later, Peredhil laid a small wooden recurve bow, wrapped in a red ribbon, lightly against the door to S'jira's room at the Red Dragon Inn. Next to it, he placed a quiver of arrows and a note.
The note read:
Dear S'jira,
I thought it was time that you have your own Elven bow. The runes say 'S'jira — Strength and Courage'. I'm happy to give you a lesson, if you wish, but the first and most important rule to remember is: 'The pointy end of the arrow should be facing away from you!'
Your friend,
Peredhil
After the carriage had left S'jira at the inn, Peredhil returned by foot to his small apartment near Rhydin's port. As he walked, he recalled something that S'jira had told him earlier, when she had shown him the bow.
"That's it!" he exclaimed, a smile brightening his face. He stepped off the main road into a side alley. Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself for the inevitable wave of nausea and shut his eyes.
As Peredhil opened his eyes, he nearly doubled over. It had been months since he had Traveled, and he had forgotten how much energy it drained from him. He staggered a few steps, then steadied himself. Pulling himself upright, Peredhil took stock of his surroundings.
He was on a narrow cobblestone street that was lined on both sides by small kiosks and shops. It was well past midnight, so the street was deserted except for a young couple walking towards him from the opposite direction. They were engaged in conversation, but Peredhil turned away, pretending to study the items on display in one of the shop's glass window, as they came near him. He exhaled softly as they passed, quickening his pace until he had reached the very end of the street.
The last shop on the right was a humble sight. No windows offered a glimpse inside, and the bare wooden door was closed. A single candle rested in a silver holder over the door, barely enough to illuminate a small brass bell that hung next to it. Peredhil rang the bell and took a step back from the door.
"We're closed," a gruff voice called from inside. "The city sleeps, and so should you."
"Too late to see an old friend?" Peredhil responded quietly. He heard the sound of shuffling footsteps approaching the door. He beamed at the peephole, then heard a gasp of surprise as the door was swung open and a tall elf gaped at him.
"My lord!" the elf exclaimed. "You've returned!" The elf bowed low, his silver braids brushing the doormat.
"It is wonderful to see you again, Simoleon." Peredhil laid a hand on the man's shoulder. "Please stand. I am no longer King, my friend."
Simoleon frowned. "As you say, my lord. Though if you ever changed your mind, you would find that all of Elessar would support you."
"Elessar is far better off as a republic," Peredhil replied. "The people deserve to choose their leaders. Besides," he added with a grin, "if the republic were to disappear, then so would my legacy."
Simoleon waved a hand dismissively. "Pssh..." Ushering Peredhil inside, he offered him a seat, which Peredhil gladly accepted.
"What brings you here at this time of night then, my lord?"
Peredhil glanced around him. They were in a large foyer, empty except for the two chairs that they sat in. And, of course, the dozens of bows that adorned the walls. Longbows, crossbows, straight and recurve bows, composite and compound bows, even a couple of strange designs that Peredhil did not recognize.
"I came to purchase a bow," Peredhil said. As Simoleon sent him a confused look, he clarified with a laugh, "It is not for me. Rather, it is for a friend."
"She must be a special friend, to bring you back to Elessar at this time of night," Simoleon commented dryly.
"Aye, she is a dear friend," Peredhil responded, rolling his eyes, "but it is not like that. She has suffered greatly, and I thought that maybe I could help her."
"With a bow?" his friend smirked. "My lord, I think retirement has made your brain go soft."
"You aren't the first to note that," Peredhil retorted with a smile, "but I'm starting to wonder if I should take my business to someone who insults his clients a bit less. But I guess this is the price to pay for the best bowyer in the kingdom."
Simoleon raised his hands in surrender. "Fair enough, my lord. Please describe your lady-friend, and we'll figure out the perfect bow for her."
A couple of hours later, Peredhil laid a small wooden recurve bow, wrapped in a red ribbon, lightly against the door to S'jira's room at the Red Dragon Inn. Next to it, he placed a quiver of arrows and a note.
The note read:
Dear S'jira,
I thought it was time that you have your own Elven bow. The runes say 'S'jira — Strength and Courage'. I'm happy to give you a lesson, if you wish, but the first and most important rule to remember is: 'The pointy end of the arrow should be facing away from you!'
Your friend,
Peredhil