Trash Fire by oshun

Chapter 1

“What are you burning? Smells like old boots.” Fëanor had not seen her since breakfast. He felt irritated at first when she did not show up at the forge and then after an hour he started to panic. After all, they had been working together on that fiddly wrought iron gate of vines and flowers that Nerdanel was so enamored with. He had offered to help to be near her but was actually learning a lot. 

A tall column of dark oily smoke had drawn him to a bonfire behind the kitchen garden emitting a disgusting reek. Sure enough, he had found her there poking with a long stick at a smoldering mass of rubbish.

“Hey, you,” she said, lighting up at the sight of him like she always did. His heart skipped a beat like it always did. 

Another vigorous prod by her at the ugly tower of refuse produced a weak flame and a large quantity of smoke. “You’re right, as always.” She smirked and wrinkled her freckled nose. “There might be a boot or two in there. But I think the stink is due mostly to the remains of a really disgusting old saddle--nothing salvageable about it.”

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you. For a moment I thought you might have gone with your father.”

“Do you think I could have left for four days without telling you?”

“I hoped you wouldn’t.” In an attempt to look pitiable, he stuck out his lower lip at her. Instead of causing him to feel awkward, her responding grin made him relax. He nudged the edge of the burning trash pile with a toe shod in a heavy forge-boot. “Where did you find all this junk?” 

“Thanks for not telling me burning it was a stinking mistake. I’m so glad Atto isn’t here to see it.”

“You mean to smell it?” They both laughed.

“I know! It’s probably poisonous, isn’t it?” 

“No comment,” he said. He kicked harder at the edge of the pile and a flaming broom handle fell sideways narrowly missing him.

“Stop, Fëanáro! You are going to hurt yourself. You are such a boy!” 

She reached into her apron pocket and pulled out a large key, dangling it in front of him. “Ta-da!” she cried out in mock triumph. He had to laugh. 

“Is it the key to the locked shed?” She never ceased to impress him.

“You bet it is! Earlier, Atto was rushing to leave . . . he didn’t pack last night when Ammë told him he ought to . . . and he couldn’t find his copy of the map for the caves where he thinks he once located a vein of rose quartz. Anyway, he dragged me down to the shed to help him look for the original version. We found it! What a filthy mess though. It’s a real treasure trove in there! But an incredible jumble of valuable things mixed with useless rubbish.”

“Wow!” He had wanted to look in that shed since he had first spotted the lock on it.

“He gave me the key and told me I could clean it out. Wanna help?”

“Do you even need to ask?”