Archery Range- 'How do you get to Carnegie Hall?..

Practice, practice, practice.', Miguel mutter under his breath as he restrings a battered old bow. He draws an arrow whose fletching has definitely seen better days  out of a quiver that won't see many more days hanging from his hip. He knocks the arrow on the fourth try, draws back and looses. It is a testament to his dignity that he does not curse, not when the string snaps his raw forearm nor when he misses the target.

He calmly draws another arrow that makes the previous look like it was new, and tries again.

The old batsman with him is pretty successful at keeping his grin from his face.

::Jimmy wanders by::
Always good to see someone learning. Want me to go grab Clint or Artie? They might have a few pointers.

*Snaps bowstring at the sound of a voice... looks like he is about to use profanity.... takes a deep breath and exhales*

I have had a lesson from Artemis already. *wry grin* I have her to thank for my new... hobby. In truth, I am so poor at this that I would likely be dead from self inflicted wounds without her previous help. *Thinks* I suppose I should be angry then. If I were dead, I wouldn't be torturing myself this way and impoverishing myself bowstring by bowstring. *shakes head and restrings his bow, slowly. He slowly draws an arrow and knocks again... he releases and misses*

Yes, get them Jimmy, if you think they are in need of a laugh. *wincing as he rubs his chafed forearm* Or if they are sadists. Either way, they might enjoy this.

::shrugs::

Cool cool cool. I'll see if I can track'em down.

Clint arrives not too long after Jimmy came to fetch him, a pair of quivers and his bow strapped to his back.

He might be grinning, which is something that hasn't happened for awhile. Arms crossed over his chest, he takes a few moments to watch first, before he says a word.

*Miguel fumbles, shoots, and misses. He continues on in that pattern for another 7 or so shots, with interruptions for dropping the arrow, wincing when he hurts his arm, and biting back undignified remarks. He looks at Clint, nods politely... and some what ruefully.  He then puts the bow down carefully, retrieves his arrows, replaces them in the quiver and begins again.*

Pushing off the wall where he watches, Clint clears his throat, pulling off his own quivers and bow to set them aside. "I was wondering if you've tried it without the bow arrows. I'd never question Quills' teaching... but there's more than one way to skin a cat." There's a pause, and the Fianna pulls something out of his back pocket. "It helps to have all the right gear, too. Like an arm guard, maybe?"

He might be entertained and amused, yes, but that doesn't preclude him from attempting to help. Besides, he could really use the distraction.

I would be grateful for any and all lessons.... * a small smile at his own self deprecation.* and maybe some numbing gel for my arm.

With a slight nod, Clint places his hand over Miguel's quiver. "Forget the arrows for now. Forget the target. You have to find your form first." He hands off the arm guard, leather hand handmade, worn with age and battle. "The pain is a reminder. You'll get used to it, but you'll remember this, too. Every archer's had their own."

"Put the arm guard on, and let me know if you're opposed to a blindfold. Some people have claustrophobia issues... won't make that mistake again."

*reaches into his pocket and pulls out a kerchief. He puts it blindfolding himself on as he speaks*
I only have trust issues. I tend to trust too much.

*he takes up the bow leaning against his leg and leaves the arrows in the quiver.*

What would you like me to do now?

"When I learned, I didn't loose a single arrow for weeks. When you draw your bow, you want it to be like it's part of you, second nature. Don't worry about targets or arrows just yet, only the bow." He pauses, giving Miguel a moment to lift his bow. "Every bow is unique. It has it's own feel, and it's own sounds. You'll know it like you know yourself, and drawing your bow will be as natural as your heart beating. So draw your bow, and I'll adjust you, and then we'll start over... and over. I hope you don't mind being here awhile."

*Stands and listens attentively.*
'No hay tal ciencia como tener la paciencia... roughly, it means "Patience is better than aptitude.', he says as he has both heard it and said it repeatedly.

He lifts the bow, his fingers brushing the nock.

'At your leisure, sir.'

There's a satisfied hum from the back of the range. Artemis watches the practice session with a smile.

*Cocks his ears at the hum*
Have I an audience for my humiliation?

"This isn't humiliation. This is learning. I first picked up a bow at age 2. I've been doing this all my life. You've been doing it for a day." Artie leans back against the wall. "I couldn't fight with a sword..."

*Stands as instructed and waits and speaks with an ironic lilt in his voice*
It is an archaic way of fighting. I mean, why even bother when we have guns, right?...

*sighs* My first rattle was a toy sword shaking in a scabbard. It takes concentration, discipline, effort and more than anything practice. Any idiot can play with one, but to be accomplished at all is the work of a lifetime... I am thinking that last bit sounds familiar, yes?

"Yeah, right?" she giggles.

*Sighs and waits to be told to move*
I came to you, Miss Artemis, because I wanted to learn more about you. I was originally simply going to try and talk to you. As a mentor of mine once told me, however, you gain the measure of a person best from pleasure and pain. This sept has seen more than it's fair share of pain, and you more than most. I wanted to see what you were like when you were doing something you enjoy... and now I find myself intrigued by this. *indicates the bow*

My tutor agrees with my new fascination, by the by. 'One day', he says  'you may find yourself without a blade, and too many enemies to face with just claws... or an enemy at a distance you must stop and silently.' I replied that there were ways to get that done, without a bow... he replied with one word. 'Agincourt.' That pretty well ended that argument. Have you heard of Agincourt?

Artemis shakes her head, "My homeschool experience consisted of ecology, archery, some basic reading, writing and arithmetic, a lot of George Carlin, and enough Spanish to make the Regents Board happy." She sits on a chair. "Is it a place? What happened there?"

The long and short is an English Army, led by their King, defeated a much larger French Army....
but there are so many lessons there.

'The English were outnumbered 6-to-1, by the French.... but not just outnumbered by outclassed... at least in theory. The English were mostly common soldiers, bowmen, with very few men in armor, most of the afoot after being chased half way through France. They were sick, tired, far from home, outnumbered, outmatched in terms of technology. They were finally chased to ground there.' *You can tell he fairly quivers to draw on the ground, to gesticulate and use his arms to describe the scene... but he stays stock still*

'The French, who had more armored men than the English had total, and thousands more besides, were positive they were going to win.... so much so that they argued about not how to win the battle itself, but how to divide the spoils of it, about who would be in the vangaurd, the front, because they would get the best captives.'

Henry, the English king, pointed out something in a speech to his troops the night before battle. He pointed out that the nobles could expect ransom... but that the commoners could only expect death or mutilation. He made them into dangerous men, sick and tired as they were, by pointing out they had nothing to lose. He swore to them that he would rather die than be ransomed, that he would share the fate of his common troops and bonded with them, he placed his fate in THEIR hands. He dismounted what knights he had and formed them to hold the center, shoulder to shoulder with commoner. With what could have been considered a ragtag band, he formed up against the flower of french chivalry... and he won. A combination of terrain, audacity in movement, and sheer pigheadedness...The English
suffered 100 deaths about... the French? 10,000 or so, with a thousand captives besides.

All with a stick, some string, a bit of luck and a leader willing to stand next to his soldiers and share their fates.

There's a history lesson going on at the moment, and Clint doesn't at all mind the pause, considering. He isn't as great a story teller as many other Fianna are, but that doesn't mean he doesn't enjoy a good tale, regardless of whom is doing the telling.

"It's not just the weapon that helps win a battle like that. Archery is difficult, and you're always learning, Archers, the best ones, it's a part of them. A friend of mine a long time ago said that Archery is like Buddhism, without all the 'Ohms'." Hands finally fall onto Miguel, to guide him into proper position, then a tap to have him drop it again. "Wouldn't you agree, Artie?"

*obeys underneath Clint's physical direction*

He'll not interfere with the continuing of conversation, using mostly his hands to help Miguel, having him repeat drawing his bow and then lowering it over an over again. He hopes it will help him learn muscle memory and control.

It may be noted that no one has seen Clint with alcohol at all today, it has accompanied him to the range, nor appeared from his pockets for this lesson.

"How does your arm feel now?"

Significantly better. Still sore, though that's from my previous actions.

"Well, there is a branch of archery called kyudo, which is the Japanese martial art of archery. It centers on meditation and deep breathing and a long, relaxed draw. I like it, but that's as far as I go with it. The Japanese bows are short on the bottom but extremely long on the top, which I hear gives them exceptional power but it's hard enough to carry Last Warning around without being noticed."

She nods at Clint. "He's right. You can't expect any of this to come soon. Even hitting the target is a big deal right now. Celebrate what victories you can. They're kind of few and precious now."