Despite being a brute, after watching Tirek take the time to craft his longbow, Rarity had to question him. This fact alone was hard enough to believe. Applejack asked if Rarity would like to help with the preparations, but she declined. She needed to watch over Tirek and was rather curious about his project.
Tirek worked diligently for hours to construct his bow. He only stopped to eat and take care of other necessities. His craftsmanship was superb and keen; his focus unwavered. Unfortunately for Rarity, this bored her. There was only so much to do while watching a villain craft his weapon. She supposed it wouldn’t hurt to try to strike up some conversation.
“So, archery,” she started, “it doesn’t seem to be just a hobby if you know how to make your own bow.”
Tirek was working in silence and took some time to answer. “You could surmise that.”
“How long had you been an archer before you…” She caught her words and adjusted to seem less offensive, “your troubles began?”
That was one way of putting it. He looked over to her for a moment before turning back to his work. “Ten years. I was twenty two when I… ran into trouble.”
Rarity was shocked at this aspect. Then again, he had spent so long in Tartarus. “I see. I suppose it’s nice that you still retain the knowledge to craft your own.”
“I had one before, but it’s most likely long lost to time. It was nothing special, I’m glad I lost it.”
Rarity wanted to push the subject, but knew it would be better to let it rest. She did not want to stir him in any way that would close him up again.
Tirek picked up the bow, bringing it closer to examine the fine details. He growled, “Shit.”
“What is it?”
Tirek tensed. He wasn’t aware he had said that loud enough. “It’s nothing.”
Rarity had been watching him and seeing how well he was doing. “I can’t help you fix something if you won’t tell me what’s wrong.”
Help him? This was almost humorous. “Don’t be ridiculous. Do you think me a fool?”
Rarity’s amused face sharply twisted to a scowl. She stood from her laying position and used her magic to snatch the curved wood from his hands. It took all his willpower not to lash out at her.
She studied the bow for a few seconds before figuring out what the mistake was. “You made your nock too far in. I know how to fix this.” She took a stray piece of wood and stripped it enough to fit the nock and then melded it to the wood of the bow. “There.” She tenderly set it back in his hands, not shoving it out of respect for the weapon.
Tirek looked at the nock. It was a perfect seam and matched the one on the other end. He eyed her as she went back to her makeshift bench before getting back to it. He was unsure whether to be impressed or offended. Perhaps both.
Twang! Thunk. Silence. Twang! Thunk. Silence. Tirek had finally finished the bow and was getting in some target practice on the farm. Applejack had set them up a few haystacks while Rarity made the target to set on it. After that, Rarity left for a time, promising she would return soon. Tirek had picked up a hint of excitement in her voice.
Tirek analized his shots, being out of practice for so many years. He fetched another arrow from the large quiver strung on his back and nocked the arrow on the left side of his bow. The bow faced downward before he drew the string back to his anchor point, pulling up the bow at the same time. His left hand sported a leather glove. He learned a long time ago that the fletchings could be incredibly sharp. Tirek wasted no time, aiming, and let the arrow loose. The arrow whizzed through the air, silent as an owl, before hitting its target.
Tirek huffed. It was still off from the center. Rarity looked at the target riddled with arrows. At this point, it was starting to look more like a porcupine than a target. “I’m sure after a few more arrows, you’ll hit your mark,” Rarity observed as she strolled back up. Her own bow strapped across her back along with a small quiver of ten arrows.
The edge of Tirek’s mouth pulled up into a smirk at the picture laid out in front of him. At this point, he couldn't help but make a remark. “If this is a joke, you are really taking it far.”
Rarity took a look over at her bow and began to string it. Hearing this judgement, she side-eyed him. “Darling, don’t flatter yourself.”
“Good to see you’re pulling out the old bow again!” Applejack called from the sidelines, almost as if to mock him. She and the family were watching Tirek. They were curious and shocked to learn that Tirek actually enjoyed something and were curious that there may be more than the power-hungry brute they had known before.
“I figured it was about time to take up the practice once more,” Rarity mused at her excitement.
Tirek was too bullheaded to believe that this stuck up pony actually knew what she was doing. “If you are being serious, how about a competition?”
Rarity raised an eyebrow at him. She couldn’t believe that he was so proud and stubborn to challenge her right off the bat. Oh, but how could she resist the opportunity to bruise that massive ego of his. It might teach him something important. Rarity took a moment to think and smiled. “And the stakes?”
If he wasn’t so focused, her confident smile would have made him rethink the situation he put himself into. “When I win-”
“If.”
Tirek snarled. “Fine. If I win, you tell me everything I want to know about your friends and these Elements you wield.”
“Very well. And if I win, you are going to go to the spa with me. Tomorrow.”
The mention of a spa made his stomach turn in disgust. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about it. He held out his hand to her. “Let’s shake on it.” Rarity said nothing and fearlessly put her hoof to his and they shook on this competition.
Rarity turned back to her bow and pulled the string back and resting it, pulled it back and resting it again. She did this a few times to warm up the bow and prepare it for shooting. A pulse of worry surged through Tirek’s core. If she was playing him for a fool, she wouldn’t know to warm up her bow as such, even if it was in her magic. She pulled the bow back just as he did, aiming it down and then bringing it up as the string was drawn. When she anchored it to her chin, he expected, almost hoped, she would dry fire the bow. However, she did not. The spark of worry grew larger with the added fuel in front of him. This may be the first time in a long time, or even as far as he could remember, that he admitted he may have underestimated his opponent.