The American elf regarded his shot for several moments, before he glanced at his two companions. He then pulled his own arrow free from his quiver and he took aim upon the target. He stood there for a few moments as he judged the wind, and the angle. And then the banter between the others. The shot, even with their talking, was not as hard as either likely hoped.
But when the arrow slipped free of his fingers and took to the air on its flight, it would not find its target. Instead, it would lodge into the other tree alongside Kate’s arrow. A miss, right? Aramil grunted as he lowered his bow, and took a step back away from the shot to let the other elf take his own. He didn’t say anything else. Not just yet anyway.