The Golden Arrow

A long time ago there was a boy who had what others around him recognised as potential. Although he was just seven years old he had such a gift with archery that he was able to hit an apple at thirty paces. Those around him were always quite astonished when he showed them his skills and praised him. He enjoyed their praise but he enjoyed hitting targets accurately even more.

His father had been a champion archer and he trained his son regularly, keen to shape the potential that everyone could see. Alas, the boy did not care so much for training and the pressure that his father would put him under. He began to resent the training, and eventually came to absent his father’s lessons.

His father found him sitting under a tree. He cursed him saying, “You are good for nothing. You are too lazy. Everyone says you have potential – but you don’t, they are just ordinary. You have just been lucky. And your arms are weak.”

For many years no-one saw the boy shoot an arrow. Indeed, that day with his father an unseen arrow had pierced his heart. He passed his days as apprentice to the blacksmith. He worked steadily but quietly, his head down and his shoulders hunched. The blacksmith, a large man of gentle strength, noted how the boy had faded away since he was the seven-year-old with all that potential.

There came a time when the boy was entrusted to repair and restore the sword of a beautiful young lady, she was the daughter of a nobleman. Whereas normally it was the blacksmith who would speak to the customers, the blacksmith had intentionally left his shop when it was time for the young lady to come – he hoped that somehow the boy might come back to life.

And so he did. Well, at least it was a beginning. The boy enjoyed the young lady’s words as she described what a wonderful job he had done on the sword. He started to imagine how he might see her again or gain her affection – or at least her attention.

He went out secretly with a bow that he knew his father wouldn’t miss. He found a clearing in the woods where he could set up a target and practise. His strength in his arms had grown as he worked with the blacksmith, and his technique had not been lost, but alas he struggled to even get close to the target, as if something inside him stopped him. Downcast, he returned home.

It was only a matter of days later that he heard some news both terrible and exciting. The young lady had been taken by the dhier. Now the dhier was a terrifying foe of a beast. It had the strength and body of a horse; teeth and claws like a tiger; the ability to jump so far that some thought it could fly; and the mentality of a piranha. It lived in the darkest part of the woods and that’s where it had taken her.

Everyone knew from legend that only an arrow of gold could pierce the armour-like skin of the dhier. The father of the young lady was quick to take all his gold to the blacksmith – for what else could he do to save his daughter? Murmurings went about the village wondering who would be best to take the arrow and hunt the great beast.

The blacksmith didn’t wonder. He worked quickly and accurately and when he was finished he handed the arrow to the boy. He was shocked and tried to give the arrow back to his master who simply said, “There is no time to waste. The girl must be saved. I believe in you.”

His heart was warmed with his words and with adrenaline. He hurried towards the woods with a borrowed horse. As he rode he had time to wonder – vacillating between certainty that he would do it, and a deadening fear of missing. At least the dhier would kill him quickly and he’d never have to face the humiliation.

But he wanted to save the girl. His concern for her made him focus. Now he knew he was close. He could hear the snapping of branches and felt his horse’s shoulders become tense as it sensed the movement of the beast.

Soon he could see it, but unfortunately it started to notice him. It turned and reared up in front of them, causing his horse to rear up and out of fear fall backwards before bolting away. His leg was crushed and the dhier looked determinedly angry – ready to stalk and strike this pitiful threat of a boy.

The boy’s head was spinning, his leg was throbbing, he struggled not to pass out from the pain. His eyes become focussed again on the dhier as it moved slowly towards him. He could not let it get close and he needed to kill it quickly with one shot – without hitting the young lady.

It was still twenty or more metres away. He studied its gait as it deliberately and menacingly lifted its shoulders high and thumped its feet back onto the ground. He knew that this was his opportunity. He must strike the heart as it was exposed when the dhier lifted its left leg. He watched and lifted his bow.

He could now feel the slow rhythm of the beast’s movement. He would only have one shot. He stretched the bow with the heavy golden arrow. The failure of his past fell away like some kind of enchantment. The moment came. He released the arrow. It flew straight and true – and met its mark.

The dhier felt the shock and the weight of the arrow, and just as legend had said the beast fell immediately. The young lady rushed towards the young man – her fear had left and her concern was for him. Their eyes met – they knew each other. The young man was still struggling on his hip. He gestured to the young lady towards her sword which he had brought and had fallen from the horse’s saddle. She swiftly and with some feeling took the sword, walked towards the beast and with all her might and the anger and the fear that she felt – she struck off its head.

They would always remember that day together. The experienced formed them and forged their new life together. Others regarded them with respect and even solemnity. They enjoyed their life together and loved to share their tale with the children of their children.