My first archery competition often feels like it was only last week, for the memory is still ingrained deep in my mind. No matter what else I achieve, that will stick with. Maybe it was because it was because I was the youngest elf to win the Annual Erathal Archery Contest, or maybe it was because the final victory came against my oldest mentor. Or, maybe it was something else entirely.
Truth be told, the reason has never been very important to me, but the result… Well, the result speaks for itself.
I remember that day like it was just last week, the nervousness I felt as I got to the semi-finals. Though I had participated for the last five years, this was the first time I had made it so far and this thought weighed heavy on my mind. I was only 147 years old, less than half the age of the second youngest semi-finalist.
Though the rules have since changed, at that time these semi-finals consisted of three distances with three arrows shot from each distance. All four of us lined up at the 50 meter mark. I blocked out all outside influence and focused in on my target. It felt like my heart my burst out of my chest, sweat gathering under my arms as I pulled back the string on my bow.
The familiar feel of his bow was somewhat relaxing, but the idea of competing against these esteemed archers was anything but. As the call came for the first shot, I locked my eyes in on the bulls-eye and took in a shallow breath. Slowly letting the air out of my lungs, I let go of the string, allowing it to soar through the air towards the target.
I watched it strike the target just below the center, landing solidly in the nine ring. Without delay, I notched another arrow and locked in on the bulls-eye. I metered my breath again and loosed the next shot, watching it soar and landing just to the right of the first shot; another nine.
At that point, I remember thinking that I needed at least one bulls-eye at this distance if I hoped to advance. In hindsight that was completely unwarranted. Still, it did push me a bit and as I locked in for the final shot I aimed a bit higher, figuring that I was miscalculating the wind speed. As I let the arrow fly, I watched it with anxiety.
It landed solidly in the bulls-eye.
I felt a tingling in my spine, excitement for my achievement. At this point I widened my view to see how my opponents had done. I don’t recall the names of my two nearest opponents, but both of them had gotten two bulls-eyes and one in the nine ring. Captain Fletching was the other semi-finalist, and he had gotten all three shots in the bulls-eye.
While the competition judges tallied the final scores, the other semi-finalists and I started walking back for the 75 meter mark, ready to continue for round two. All I needed was to be in the top two, so if I could stay in my position at this distance, I was confident I could pull ahead at 100 meters. Now, I just had to keep my composure.
