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Nerdanel looked up and down the dusty mainstreet of the town nestled at the base of the mountains. The air was hot out here without any trees for shade from the sun. She twirled the long stem of a trillium blossom between her fingers. She picked it along the side of the road several miles back on a whim, thinking she might sketch it later if she found time before it wilted. She was rather glad about taking it now; the town was so dry and lifeless.
She could hear her father haggling for a spot for the family’s wagons and horses. They apparently weren’t allowed to camp on the edge of town. Something about the mining company wanting the roads totally clear for their vehicles.
They’d been traveling south and east since the first breath of spring made the roads passable. They were always traveling; even in winter they were never still for more than a month but the tempo of the world slowed so much when frost came that sometimes she felt like they were floating lazily in a fairyland. That was many months ago, and her parents finally decided it was time for a break from the wandering. The two wagon wheels held together by hope and determination contributed.
She remembered spending a month near here as a child. They’d settle by a spring bubbling up in the weald further from the mountains, and she and her siblings and cousins played and helped their elders forage in the lush forest. The land wasn’t as green this time, but then it was later in the summer and there’d been less rain than usual. Any other memories were blurred with the many other places they traveled to over the years.
It sounded like the haggling would go on for some time, so with a wave to an uncle and a wink to a cousin, she headed off down the road to explore.
The town, she found, was built like most towns. Storefronts dominated the main street, with Town Hall at the center and a small schoolhouse just across the way. Nothing too exciting. Going on further, she found a large paddock, bone dry, with nearly twenty dusty horses standing quietly inside, heads down and tails swishing at flies.
A teen perched on the weathered fence with three saddled horses tied beside him. He looked to be a few years her junior. His hair was pulled back from his face in a simple tail, the black strands dulled by yet more dust. He watched her draw near, mouth pulled down in a small frown.
“Hello,” She said, waving at him. He was the first young person she’d seen.
“Hi.” His answer was terse and waivered at the beginning like he hadn’t been sure he wanted to respond at all.
“Are those your horses?” She smiled and pointed at the three disinterested animals dozing next to him.
He blinked. “My father’s.” His tongue stumbled over the end of the word.
“Oh. They look nice.” In truth, she thought they looked small and twiggy, but then most horses did compared to the four that pulled the wagons. These animals were probably quite respectable when not compared to the giants she’d grown up with. “Do they have names?”
He pointed at the one closest to him. “Andra–” then at the next one, struggling with the ‘s’ again– “and Misty.”
“What about this one?” She asked, stepping over to the brown gelding when he didn’t go on.
“No.”
“Well that’s an odd name.”
The boy hopped off the fence and walked over. “No, he doesn’t have a name.”
She stroked the horse’s neck. He swiveled an ear toward her and bobbed his head up and down until she patted him again. “Why not? He’s nice.”
The boy shrugged.
“What’s your name?” He asked after she had her fill of petting and her hand was caked in dirt.
“Nerdanel. What’s yours?”
“Fëanor.”
They knew each other quite well now, she thought, and he seemed nice enough. He was a little shorter than her, and now that he wasn’t high up on the fence, she could appreciate his face better. If she was being completely honest with herself, and she usually was, he was cute. She wouldn’t mind seeing him again during her stay. Maybe he’d go berry hunting with her.
Not wanting to get ahead of herself, she asked, “Where do you live?”
He scowled. “Everyone knows.”
She snorted. “Well I don’t. We just got here.”
“We?” He asked.
“My family,” She elaborates. “We wander and live in our wagons. Where do you live?”
He seemed to debate with himself for several seconds before relenting. “On the mountain.”
Wouldn’t it be fun if he already knew the best berry briars? They’d be quiet spots, out of the way.
“Do you come down here much?” She wasn’t keen to go looking for a house with the vague directions of ‘on the mountain’, but if people in town knew then she could probably get a better idea from them.
He shrugged. “Sometimes.” A faint blush creeped up his cheeks. “I come on my own, too.”
She opened her mouth to say more, but the door to a stout building next to the corral swung open. A man, a bit taller than her and strikingly similar to Fëanor, strode out. A younger boy followed him, his hair neatly braided. The riders of the other two horses, she supposed.
“Fëanor.”
At the irritated snap, he quickly stepped away from her, shoving his hands into his overall pockets.
“Was he hassling you, Miss?” The elf, probably Fëanor’s father, asked.
“No,” She said, backing up as the boys untied the horses. “We were talking.”
“I can talk to people,” Fëanor muttered under his breath as he mounted the unnamed gelding.
“I’m sorry he bothered you.” The elf tipped his hat as he settled in Andra’s saddle. “You have a nice day now.”
She waved goodbye to Fëanor once his father turned his horse to leave. He smiled back tentatively and waved, cheeks still a little flushed. His brother glanced between the two of them but didn’t say anything.
Oh, Nerdanel thought as she watched the boy sway easily with the horse’s bouncing gait as they left, she was definitely going to meet him again. Hands tingling with anticipation, she headed back toward the wagons. She’d found the most interesting thing about the town, so she might as well see if there was anything she could help with.