Saran was born on the night of a new moon, in the middle of winter. His father Harmin Hallows and his wife, Jennifer Hallows, welcomed him into the world with open arms. With laughter and love they stared at one another with little Saran between them. He was a healthy child with eyes that looked like quicksilver. As Harmin whispered his love to Jennifer, little Saran cooed softly and grasped his fathers callused finger with his tiny hand.
Saran grew into a fine boy. His hair was of the purest silver and his eyes were always full of mischief and laughter. He was always examining things, learning about the natural world around himself. Harmin was a farmer on the outskirts of Silverymoon, and he worked the land and came home every day to his wife and child and the wonderful smell of Jennifer's cooking. The three of them stayed up late into the night as Harmin entertained them with stories of a great hero or mighty dragons. And at night he tucked little Saran into his bed and told him that he was the greatest gift the Lady Selune had ever given him. Saran smiled sleepily and drifted off to a land of adventures and excitement.
When Saran was twelve, his father took him to a field with an archery target set up. He taught him the basics on how to shoot the bow, and explained how to take into account the wind into the path of the arrow.
Harmin picked up his weathered bow, worn but obviously well taken care of.
"Now, son. Most archers will tell you how to aim and to gauge the distance with your eye. They'll explain the neccessity of wearing light armor and the flexibility needed to properly fletch and shoot. But..." Harmin held up a finger with a grin. "...There's another way."
Shifting from foot to foot in excitment in learning how to shoot a bow, Saran's eyes opened wide. "What do you mean, Pop? How do I shoot without taking aim?"
Harmin closed his eyes and nocked the bow. "Watch, my son." He cocked his head as if listening to something, and let the bow loose with a resounding twang. The arrow shot across the field and into the haystack target, dead center in the bulls eye. Saran let out a sound of awe. "Wow, Pop! How'd you do that?" Harmin opened his eyes with a smile. "I simply allowed the arrow to reach its mark. No aiming, no trying to control the arrow more than I needed. I had intent, and I had purpose. The arrow did the rest."
Saran jumped up excitedly. "Let me try, Pop! I can do it too!" Harmin laughed loudly, as he handed Saran a smaller bow. "Sure son, go ahead. Now, remember to take into account the wind..." Saran shook his head. "No, Pop. I'm going to do it like you!"
Without another word, little Saran nocked his bow and closed his eyes. He listened. Not to any singular sound, or anything in particular. He listened to his heartbeat, and even that faded away. All that was left in his mind was the target and his will to--
*Thwack!*
Saran opened his eyes to see his father staring dumb founded at the target. Saran's arrow had split Harmin's own in half, and was quivering in the target, a low humming filling the area.
"Well, I'll be damned." Harmin scratched his head. "That's...great son." Saran beamed with pride. "I did good, Pop?" Harmin chuckled uneasily. "You did great son. Now, let's get inside for dinner."
As Saran skipped ahead to their home, Harmin looked at the bow that Saran had shot from. A small violet disk was burned into the bow where his hand had been. Harmin snapped it in half with one quick movement, and threw it behind the bushes, following his laughing son home, a more sober man.
Saran grew into a fine boy. His hair was of the purest silver and his eyes were always full of mischief and laughter. He was always examining things, learning about the natural world around himself. Harmin was a farmer on the outskirts of Silverymoon, and he worked the land and came home every day to his wife and child and the wonderful smell of Jennifer's cooking. The three of them stayed up late into the night as Harmin entertained them with stories of a great hero or mighty dragons. And at night he tucked little Saran into his bed and told him that he was the greatest gift the Lady Selune had ever given him. Saran smiled sleepily and drifted off to a land of adventures and excitement.
When Saran was twelve, his father took him to a field with an archery target set up. He taught him the basics on how to shoot the bow, and explained how to take into account the wind into the path of the arrow.
Harmin picked up his weathered bow, worn but obviously well taken care of.
"Now, son. Most archers will tell you how to aim and to gauge the distance with your eye. They'll explain the neccessity of wearing light armor and the flexibility needed to properly fletch and shoot. But..." Harmin held up a finger with a grin. "...There's another way."
Shifting from foot to foot in excitment in learning how to shoot a bow, Saran's eyes opened wide. "What do you mean, Pop? How do I shoot without taking aim?"
Harmin closed his eyes and nocked the bow. "Watch, my son." He cocked his head as if listening to something, and let the bow loose with a resounding twang. The arrow shot across the field and into the haystack target, dead center in the bulls eye. Saran let out a sound of awe. "Wow, Pop! How'd you do that?" Harmin opened his eyes with a smile. "I simply allowed the arrow to reach its mark. No aiming, no trying to control the arrow more than I needed. I had intent, and I had purpose. The arrow did the rest."
Saran jumped up excitedly. "Let me try, Pop! I can do it too!" Harmin laughed loudly, as he handed Saran a smaller bow. "Sure son, go ahead. Now, remember to take into account the wind..." Saran shook his head. "No, Pop. I'm going to do it like you!"
Without another word, little Saran nocked his bow and closed his eyes. He listened. Not to any singular sound, or anything in particular. He listened to his heartbeat, and even that faded away. All that was left in his mind was the target and his will to--
*Thwack!*
Saran opened his eyes to see his father staring dumb founded at the target. Saran's arrow had split Harmin's own in half, and was quivering in the target, a low humming filling the area.
"Well, I'll be damned." Harmin scratched his head. "That's...great son." Saran beamed with pride. "I did good, Pop?" Harmin chuckled uneasily. "You did great son. Now, let's get inside for dinner."
As Saran skipped ahead to their home, Harmin looked at the bow that Saran had shot from. A small violet disk was burned into the bow where his hand had been. Harmin snapped it in half with one quick movement, and threw it behind the bushes, following his laughing son home, a more sober man.
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