Fic: ‘Tis the Season: An afternoon moment.
Title: ‘Tis the Season: An afternoon moment.
Fandom: Middle-earth (movies)
Rating: (G)
Time Period: During their time in Doriath.
Summary: An afternoon of teaching archery.
Author's Note: This is quick ‘n’ dirty (for definition see the F. A. Q.).
I just wanted a carefree afternoon and this was it.
Disclaimer
All characters contained herein are the intellectual property of JRR Tolkien, the Tolkien Estate and the Tolkien Trust & Peter Jackson, Fran Walsh & Philippa Boyens (their interpretations); I am not affiliated with nor endorsed by them.
_______________________
His hand feathers along her skin; she laughs. He leans closer, his breath feathering her cheek; she smiles, her back against his chest. He nods; she feels it against her hair and draws the string back and releases.
The arrow flies and strikes its target.
At the bottom of the target.
She draws away, turns to face, drops the bow and the quiver slung over one shoulder. They clatter on the ground. “What went wrong?”
“Nothing,” he chuckles, fetching the arrow from the tree trunk. “Maybe you were distracted.”
She reaches for the arrow in his hand. “We should try again.”
He bows. “As you wish.”
Fandom: Middle-earth (movies)
Rating: (G)
Time Period: During their time in Doriath.
Summary: An afternoon of teaching archery.
Author's Note: This is quick ‘n’ dirty (for definition see the F. A. Q.).
I just wanted a carefree afternoon and this was it.
Disclaimer
All characters contained herein are the intellectual property of JRR Tolkien, the Tolkien Estate and the Tolkien Trust & Peter Jackson, Fran Walsh & Philippa Boyens (their interpretations); I am not affiliated with nor endorsed by them.
_______________________
His hand feathers along her skin; she laughs. He leans closer, his breath feathering her cheek; she smiles, her back against his chest. He nods; she feels it against her hair and draws the string back and releases.
The arrow flies and strikes its target.
At the bottom of the target.
She draws away, turns to face, drops the bow and the quiver slung over one shoulder. They clatter on the ground. “What went wrong?”
“Nothing,” he chuckles, fetching the arrow from the tree trunk. “Maybe you were distracted.”
She reaches for the arrow in his hand. “We should try again.”
He bows. “As you wish.”