mALX: It is true that there are a number of things I would have liked to have done a deeper dive upon in this chapter, such as Teresa's time spent shopping with Ardaline, and then again the same with Tadrose. But the truth is those things did not contribute to the plot of the chapter, and only made small contributions to character building. Normally I do not mind spending an extra thousand words on something like that. But this chapter is nearly at 38k words already. So I really do need to pick and choose what goes in.
When I wrote the final day of shooting, I considered going into more depth with how the other competitors did. But I realized that I would be losing the real focus, which was always on Teresa. Whether it is Teresa's relationships with her guild contemporaries, or her own abilities as an archer. So I decided to gloss over the parts not directly related to her, and instead pull the camera in tight around her.
haute ecole rider: I had a wristrocket slingshot when I was little. I could not hit a thing with it!
hazmick: Yep, the choke factor is a huge thing in professional sports. Look at how many basketball players cannot make free-throws, when they have all the time in the world and no one to block their shots. But put them in a fastbreak and they sink the ball every time.
Olen: Someone probably will remind her of what it took to get this far, not to mention of keeping the tourney in perspective.

Probably not who most people suspect though!
Acadian: I am glad the reasons for Teresa missing those long-range shots are evident to the reader, even if they are not to Teresa. I did not want to
tell people why but rather
show it. I almost did not put the rifled arrows in, but when I read they have been used for thousands of years, I thought it only perfect that it would be another wood elf thing.
Grits: It was Methredhel who taught Teresa how to shoot, way back when they were kids in the IC. Just wait, Teresa still has time to flub a shot!
I have found that writing this story here (and earlier at the Beth forums) has helped me immensely in terms of things like what to leave in and what to leave out. While it is true that in this environment one can write just for the joy of it, and not worry about keeping the plot tight, it still does help with the entire process of deciding how to construct the story. I would do a lot of things differently if this was meant for publication. Even if I am not doing most of those things here, the practice I have had at analyzing the plot has shown me what those things are.
Lady Syl: That really was a liminal chapter, where Teresa is seen moving from one phase in her life to another. Her spirit flight is one example of that, and will not be the last time that happens. Likewise her desire to explore Vilverin, in spite of how much logic and good sense might dictate otherwise!
Doommeister: Wow, you must have been awfully bored to do that!

Seriously, that gives me a faint smile to hear.

More on the way.
Previously on Teresa of the Faint Smile: In our last episode, Teresa made her first of the three rounds of shooting in the finals. While she performed well in the close range and rapid fire shooting, she fell apart in the long distance flight. Next we will see how she fares on her second round.
Chapter 34.23 - The Tournament Of ArchersTeresa stepped up for her second round of shooting and vowed to do better. Already Alawen, Daenlin, and Dame Buffy had pulled far ahead from the rest of them with their nearly flawless archery. She would need perfect shots with every arrow if she was going to stand any chance of even keeping up with them now. Thanks to her dismal long range shooting, Parwen had not only out-shot her in the first round as well, but also Aradroth and the forester Riveus.
Breathing deeply and trying to relax, Teresa began her first flight of arrows at mid range. She was disappointed with a single bullseye and a pair of nines. Yet the next flight of timed shots once more saw her with all perfect scores, and again the crowd cheered her efforts. Then came the part she had been dreading. The long range flight.
Once more the wood elf took her time and did her best to take into account every possible variable, knowing that even the slightest miscalculation would have drastic effects in so far a shot. Her first arrow fell in the outermost ring, as did the second. Biting her lip, she made her third shot. It completely missed the target, falling to Nirn just inches before the butt.
The wood elf closed her eyes as the announcer proclaimed her score for the total flight: a seventy. She had missed the target! How on Nirn could she be so pathetic! She stared into the ground at her feet, afraid to see the looks the other archers were doubtlessly giving her.
Teresa shook her head, feeling her cheeks burn with the shame. Gritting her teeth, she tried to ignore the staring eyes of the crowd as she made her way back to the other archers. She had missed completely!
"It could happen to anyone," Lum said, laying a consoling hand on her shoulder. Then he stepped to the line to shoot next.
"Teresa." Parwen's voice came to her ears, and the forester saw the Skingrad fighter's boots standing on the grass before her. "I've been training new archers for decades now, and I think I might be able to help."
Teresa looked up, feeling tears burning behind her eyes. It took every ounce of her willpower to prevent them from cascading down her cheeks. Instead she swallowed hard, and took a moment to steady her shaking hands.
"You do?"
"I see you shoot flawlessly when you are timed," the older wood elf observed. "From that I take it you are accustomed to combat shooting. Am I right?"
Teresa nodded, wondering what that had to do with anything?
"Let me guess, in battle, you can make shots like these you are missing." Parwen said.
"I can!" Teresa bit her lip once more, and clenched a fist. "I know you don't believe me, but I can. That's what's so frustrating about all this!"
"In battle, how much time do you take to shoot?" the older elf asked next.
"Not much at all," Teresa blinked. She had no idea where this could be leading. "I aim for a second, then shoot. There isn't any time for more."
"Exactly," Parwen said. "Now for your next long range flight, I would like you to try shooting it as if you were in battle, with only a second to aim and fire."
"But I'll-"
"Miss?" Parwen's eyes sparkled with mirth that Teresa suspected was well-intended. "A little late to worry about that I think." The Skingrad elf put a hand on her shoulder. "I've seen this before in other Bosmer. You are second-guessing yourself. You over-analyze your shots, and that makes you ignore both your instincts,
and the years of practice that have gotten you here. Stop thinking so much, and just shoot. Your muscles know what to do, that is why we train for hours on end."
"A score of seventy two for the second flight." The announcer's voice boomed through the amphitheater, and the two elves turned to see Lum gro-Baroth walking back their way. Teresa glanced up at the scoreboard. The Orisimer had shot a mix of sevens, eights, and nines, and now stood one point ahead of her with a total at one hundred and forty seven.
"That is my cue," Parwen smiled, and stepped off to the firing line.
"Good luck!" Teresa cried after the older woman.
Lum returned to stand beside Teresa, and the wood elf looked up at the emerald-skinned giant.
"Good shooting," she said.
"Thanks Teresa," the orc rumbled, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. "It's a lot harder than practice, that's for sure!" The orc looked down at her, and laid a friendly hand on her back. "You'll do better next time, don't worry."
"I hope so." Teresa bit her lip, and watched Parwen outscore her as well.
By the time the next break came, Teresa saw that she had fallen to eighth place in the standings, with only Zerina and Schlera behind her. A troupe of actors came out onto the field to entertain the crowd during the time between rounds. Along with the others, she retired to an open-walled tent. Within were samples of food and drink from the various merchants at the festival. Teresa stared at the sweet rolls from
Salmo's Bakery and licked her lips.
But they had been at the amphitheater since early morning, and it was now well past noon. Nature was calling, and she would not be denied. Teresa knew she had plenty of time before the actors finished their routines, so as she had seen many other contestants do already, she headed off the field. Taking the tunnel reserved for only the archers, she made her way past the guards at the other end, and went hunting for the nearest privy in the sea of tents that surrounded the arena.
Thankfully one was not too far distant. Upon finishing her task, she started her way back to the private tunnel. But the smell of cinnamon and apples caught her nose. Following the lovely scent, she found a kiosk selling baked treats.
The Iron Champion Bakery, proclaimed the banner above it. Working alone behind the counter was a Bosmer with a most prodigious chest. Her brown hair was tied back in a ponytail, and her smooth features were dusted with flour and brown sugar.
Teresa sourly noted that just one of merchant's breasts was larger than both of hers put together. But the cinnamon apple muffins on her counter were too seductive to pass up. Teresa stood in line for what seemed an eternity, but she knew was actually probably only a few minutes. Then finally the forester was able to purchase one of the delights, and she found that the wait was more than worth it. Reveling in the crumbly-topped masterpiece, Teresa wandered away without really watching where she was going.
She came to an abrupt halt as a chest sheathed in munition armor nearly met her face. Careful not to drop her half-eaten muffin, she stared up with a start. Towering above her was Kurz. Like the other fighters, he wore his armor and guild medallion. She wondered how many of them were doing it for looks, and how many because they were also taking turns working the betting booths as Chance and Ancondil had the day before?
"Lum was right," he laughed, "it's raining wood elves alright!"
Teresa worked up a faint smile through her mouthful of baked splendor. Finally chewing it down and swallowing, she was able to reply.
"Kurz!" she stammered, "I'm sorry, I did not see you. These muffins are so good. You should try one."
"Is that one of Kirsty's?" The orc looked over Teresa's shoulder to the busty wood elf's kiosk, and puffed himself up in his armor. "I get the feeling she likes me."
Teresa mustered up a faint smile at his remark. She had no idea if he was serious or not. But he was being kind to her, so she was not going to spoil it by being impolite.
"Well, she certainly knows how to bake!" Teresa declared. "She has some other impressive… attributes as well."
"Umm Teresa, I've been watching you shoot, and it got me thinking," the Orisimer said slowly. Teresa realized that he was now choosing what he said very carefully. The Kurz she knew was not one to mince words. If he was looking for the right one, then she imagined it must be very important to him. Or very bad for her.
"I'm not a very good archer," the orc admitted, "as I'm sure you noticed. I never was, never will be. Lum got the bow juice in my family. I'm an axeman."
"So why did you come to compete?" Teresa asked.
"I didn't," the orc said plainly. "I'm on a contract. I entered as part of my cover. But it does not really matter now. The man I've been shadowing can't be the one we're looking for. He's a worse archer than I am!"
"You're here to follow one of the contestants?" Teresa raised an eyebrow.
"Aye," the orc responded. "I was at least, but he washed out yesterday. The Chorrol Guard thinks he murdered someone. But the man we're looking for made a long range shot across half the city in the middle of the night to kill the victim. This fetcher I was sent to watch couldn't hit the broad side of a mountain!"
"But that's not what I was going to say," the orc shook his head. "I was going to say I was watching you, and I think you're taking this whole tournament too seriously. I can see you clenching your fists and biting your lip out there. See, you're doing both now."
"I don't know about those other shooters, but you, Lum, and me, we're fighters. When we shoot, we do it for real." The orc waved a hand at the looming mass of the amphitheater overhead. "This dreck is just play. When it's all over, we're gonna shake hands and walk away. It's not for real. So what if you win? That and a reman will buy you a mug of cheap ale. If you lose, that ale's gonna cost the same. You think I care if I washed out? Oblivion no."
"The only time it matters is when someone's life is on the line," the orc said, "and it don't matter how pretty you shoot your arrows then. Only that you hit, and hit hard. Half these spoiled princelings would probably fill their drawers with shite if they saw a skeleton charging down on them. But you and me, we stand and deliver. Yeah, I heard about you from Chance. He said you saved his bacon in some Ayleid ruin.
That's all that matters. Not any of this fetching nonsense. So don't let it get to you."
Teresa stared up in amazement at the green leviathan. He was absolutely right, she thought. She had not even wanted to compete in the first place! So why was she letting herself get so frustrated because of it? Parwen was not bothered by the thought of losing. Nor was Lum, well not much at least. Obviously Kurz did not mind failing to even make the finals. So why did it matter if she did not win?
"Kurz, did I ever tell you what a great guy you are?" Teresa wrapped her arms around the burly orc and laid her cheek against his breastplate.
"Aww, not here," the orc laughed. "Kirsty might see and get the wrong idea!"
Teresa laughed as well, and let go of the other fighter.
"You better get back to the amphitheater," he rumbled. Then he turned to look at the wood elf bakery, and winked down at Teresa."I think she likes big men, if you know what I mean. I'm gonna go find out."
"Good luck," Teresa cried at the orc's receding back. Holding her head up high, she turned and made her way back to the arena.