[Memory] Seeing Blind I.
Posted: Thu Jul 02, 2020 9:47 am
1st day of Sundered Rise, Season of Searing, Year 57 of Age of Steel
[indent=20]Walking into the bowyer’s shop was like stepping into another world. The rising heat outside receded and gave way to the varied smells of wood and feathers. Arlen inhaled it with one deep breath, relishing in the smell. There on the undertone, he also caught the scent of wax. The workers in the shop complete the image of bees buzzing in the trees. The bow maker and his assistants worked away on their commissions.
[indent=20]“Arlen,” one of the bowyers laid down his carving tools. “What can we do you for?”
[indent=20]Not waiting for a further invitation, the man in question approached. “I was hoping if you or anyone could have a look at my bow.”
[indent=20]The bowyer laid down the worked piece of wood across his lap and stretched out his hand. “What’s wrong with it?”
[indent=20]“It started creaking,” Arlen answered. It had not happened before, leaving Arlen clueless as to what could be the issue. Ever since joining the hunting parties in the tribe, Arlen received a fair share of training, but no one ever mentioned creaking in a bow.
[indent=20]The bowyer didn’t even look at the bow and returned it to Arlen. “It’s on its way out. Nothing I can do to fix it.”
[indent=20]“Why?” Arlen asked his eyes jumping between his weapon and the maker.
[indent=20]“Once a bow starts creaking, it’s seen its days. If I were you, I’d break it and use it as firewood.”
[indent=20]No way! Arlen pursed his lips. This was his first very own bow. One he worked so hard for to get the coin. He couldn’t part with it in such a nasty way to burn it. And, it wasn’t like he could go hunting without one. “But... it’s been with me not even two years.”
[indent=20]The bowyer leaned forward resting one elbow on one knee and palm of his other hand on the other knee. Like that, the bowyer thought and contemplated or maybe he was only taking his time. “Well, there might be a few reasons it’s not lasted you longer. Say, have you been warming it up properly?”
[indent=20]Arlen pressed his lips together and pulled his cheeks in. He was told to do it. He did it...sometimes.
[indent=20]The bowyer sighed. “No wonder the poor thing is creaking like old joints. Probably affected your shooting as well, you know.”
[indent=20]The fact that his carelessness cost him a good bow and it likely made his performance worse, caused Arlen to double-take. Some lessons were learnt the hard way.
[indent=20]“But,” he started, “I need a bow. I can hardly hunt without one.”
[indent=20]The bowyer spread his arms. “Then make your pick. Plenty here.”
[indent=20]And indeed there were. Different bows lined the walls and stands. There were polished woods with intricate carvings, simple woods without once, curved shapes like women’s waist. Arlen was rooted in place, looking around, unable to pick. Next to him, the bowyer picked up his work but did not return to it.
[indent=20]“Too much choice?” The bowyer said.
[indent=20]“Too little knowledge,” Arlen muttered before looking back at the bowyer with an embarrassed smile.
[indent=20]The bowyer chuckled and laid down his work. “Alright then, Arlen. Tell me what you’re after.”
[indent=20]Arlen offered a grateful smile. “Well, I liked this bow because it sat well in my hand, but I wonder if there is a version that would help me shoot for longer distance.”
[indent=20]The bowyer nodded, tapping his chin. He then extended his hand to which Arlen laid his poor weapon. The bowyer gently tugged on the string. “What arrows do you use?”
[indent=20]Arlen sucked in his cheeks again. “Ash ones. I think.” He pulled his head between his shoulders as he spoke feeling again like a child. The previous bowyer did not do much introduction into which bow was best and why and which arrow worked and which didn’t for what Arlen needed. And each time he came for a refill, he just showed the arrows and that was that. Arlen bit the inside of his lip in frustration.
[indent=20]The bowyer sighed again, shaking his head. “Alright, alright. Let me tell you something and you remember it so you can choose your own bow next time, ok?”
[indent=20]Arlen nodded and followed the man.
[indent=20]“If you want to shoot farther, you will need to combine a higher poundage bow with the right arrows.” The man set Arlen’s old bow on a table and reached for one that was on a stand. It had a sleek, dark body but it was yet without a string.
[indent=20]“If you’ve been shooting with this poor thing, this one should not be much harder. The poundage is only slightly higher. You probably want to pair it with cedar arrows. They’re lighter and hold straight. But you better talk to the fletcher about that.” The bowyer nudged his chin towards one corner of the shop where the fletcher was carving nocking points. Arlen nodded.
[indent=20]“Let me string it for you so you can try” The bowyer offered.
[indent=20]“Much appreciated.”
[indent=20]The bowyer grunted something to himself as he went to collect not one but two bowstrings. “Always better keep an extra in case the one strung snaps.” The bowyer then retrieved a stringer from his pocket and nocked it on each side of the bow. In a matter of moments, the bowstring was in place and the bow looked complete.
[indent=20]“There. See for yourself if this is to your liking.”
[indent=20]The bow sat well in Arlen’s palm though it had a different shape. He pulled on the bowstring, feeling the greater resistance. From up high, he stretched the string all the way to his shoulder until he was aiming an imaginary arrow at a target that wasn’t there.
[indent=20]“How does it feel?”
[indent=20]“Very good. I think it’ll do its job nicely,” Arlen replied, gently releasing the tension and laying his new weapon down.
[indent=20]“Very well then. Here is the second bowstring as well.” The bowyer pushed it towards Arlen as the man took out his purse.
[indent=20]“Hunting in the plains again?” The bowyer asked as Arlen was preparing the coin.
[indent=20]“No. Not this time.”
[indent=20]“Forest then?” The bowyer asked surprised.
[indent=20]“Not really hunting. But yes, I will be going into the forest.”
[indent=20]The bowyer huffed and took the coin. “Not my business to pry.” He nudged his chin at the fletcher again. “Don’t forget your arrows as well, alright?”
