Ivnar pulled the rope until it was creaking and waited for Bug to duck under him. The older elf crept under the aravel with the end of the rope in one hand.
Ivnar could feel the rough rope cutting against his hand. A bead of sweat fell into his eye. A finger poked his shoulder.
He didn’t have to turn to see who it was. Only one person ever poked him from that height.
“Yes, Hallama? This had better be important.”
“I found something!”
His palm burned. The rope was slid a few inches along, marked by the distinct sound of Bugs voice from under the aravel, “Fenedhis!”
Heart leaping to his throat, Ivnar shuffled his grip on the rope and set one foot against the wood for balance. “Unless you found an abandoned Elven castle, I’m REALLY not interested right now!” He snapped.
“Better!” She chimed, and Ivnar could hear the sound of her little feet skipping in the dirt.
Bugs voice called out, muffled, from under the aravel, “Got it!”
Ivnar released his breath along with the rope. It bounced against the wood and made a little twang when he tested it, but held strong nonetheless.
He rested one arm against the side of the aravel and wiped the sweat out of his eye with his free hand.
“Okay, Hallama, what’s better than a castle?”
She grinned, little dimples dotted her cheeks. Her brown hair ringlets bounced when she skipped to stand in front of him.
“Close your eyes and hold out your hand!”
Ivnar sighed and obeyed, dropping to one knee so his hand would easily meet her height. She pressed something tiny and smooth into his palm. He cracked his eyes open. The little bobble was no bigger than his thumbnail.
“It’s a snail shell.” He said.
“It’s a fallen star!”
“It’s a snail shell. It belongs to a dead snail.”
That bright smile disappeared as easily as it came. She stuck out her lower lip and crossed her arms. Bugs voice piped up from behind him, a gentle coo to counteract his own monotone. “Awww. It can be a fallen star if she wants it to be.”
Ivnars hair tumbled behind his shoulders as he leaned back to meet Bugs eyes, above and behind him. “Except that’s not how logic or reasoning works.”
Bug grinned, cheeks cracking along the spots where his fresh vallaslin was peeling. The creeping thorns on his face were thick and vivid, but ink stuck up in awkward places like peeling bark.
“It’s a star and I found it for you.” Hallama huffed, stomping her foot, “Now you get a wish!”
“A wish, huh?” He turned the shell over in his palm, “What if someone already wished on this one? I could be stealing someone else’s wish.”
“Then they should have been faster to find it! And it’s gotta be a good wish.”
He chuckled. “Alright, I wish for us to have the aravels loaded before sundown. Is that a good wish?”
“No, ‘cause you were gonna do that anyway!”
He rolled his eyes. “Not if bratty little da'lens keep interrupting us, we won’t.” He said poking her nose.
She rubbed her nose and grumbled, “M’not bratty.”
Shaking his head, he took her hand in his and pressed the shell back into her palm, “Here. Why don’t you hold onto it until I think of a better one?”
He rose and found her at his belt. She tugged open the string of the little leather pouch he kept there and dropped the shell inside, giving it a little pat for good measure.
“Can I help?” She asked, yellow eyes peering up at him through curly bangs.
“No.” He snapped, “Not unless you can grow two feet in the next five minutes. Besides, I have Bug.”
“Bug’s not s'possed to be in the sun! I heard Arwen say so.”
Bug pulled his hood further over his forehead, letting it bathe him in what little shade it could provide. He winked at her, “Arwen is scouting. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”
Ivnar was grinding his teeth now. “Bug knows every knot that’s been invented and shoot a fox in the eye from 100 paces.” He growled, “What can you do? Collect more snail shells? Maybe you can chuck them at the shemlen to keep them off our tail.”
She stomped, little fists clenched at her sides. “You’re mean!”
Bug held his stomach, sides shaking with laughter. “She has you there. You can be a real prick.” Ivnar shot him a glare, but the way Bug wiped a tear from his eye seemed to indicate he either didn’t notice or didn’t care.
“I can be more mean if you want, Felassan.” He countered. A tiny smirked tugged at the dimple of one cheek.
Bug put his hand on his hips, tilting his head to one side, “See, teasing your little sister is one thing but calling me by that name is just rude.”
Hallama covered her mouth with both palms and giggled. Bug gestured to her, adding, “She’s as bad as you are! Wait until you come of age, I’ll interrupt you while your face is sore just to make fun of your name.”
“Ir abelas, Bug. You’re right.” He said, smirk still tugging at his lips. He turned his attention back to Hallama, “Do you remember how to tie a boat hitch?”
She nodded and bounced on the balls of her feet.
“Good. Follow me.”
