Evening in the Nomad’s Tent
《Baleon’s Log》
Afternoon on the Steppe — Outer Steppe.
Guided by Xaelo, we made our way toward the nomad encampment.
[Fael] Exchanging news with Xaelo, laughing now and then.
[Serio] Teasing a drowsy Maya, delighted by his reactions.
[Maya] Sleepy under the warm afternoon sun, but kept awake by Serio’s antics.
We stopped at a stream to water the Elba.
The sun was still high—we would reach the encampment before dusk.
Xaelo and Fael’s company arrived at the nomad encampment before dusk.
Xaelo’s family lived in a bright, open valley, their tent pitched near pasture where their Elba grazed.
Beside the white tent, smoke rose straight into the sky, and the scent of cooking drifted on the wind.
When the tent came into view, Xaelo called out across the valley:
“Ho there! I’ve returned!”
At his voice, two women appeared beside the tent, and from within, two young girls burst out at a run.
The girls were Xaelo’s granddaughters.
Five-year-old Nava let out a gleeful “Grandpaaa!” and sprinted toward her grandfather, who was returning on his Swift Elba.
She dashed alongside, reaching up her little hand. Xaelo caught it firmly, and with ease lifted her onto the saddle, where she nestled proudly on his knee.
Close behind came nine-year-old Nivia, who caught hold of the Elba’s reins. She smiled up at Xaelo, and he returned the smile with a nod, entrusting the reins to her.
The Swift Elba, reassured by Nivia’s presence, shortened its stride and matched its pace to hers.
Watching the scene, Fael laughed aloud.
“Is it always like this?”
“Hah-hah-hah. So it is,” Xaelo answered, just as delighted.
When they reached the tent, Xaelo’s wife Nohra and his daughter Neyra came forward to greet them.
Nohra smiled gently and spoke kindly to her husband.
“Welcome home, Xaelo.”
“I’m back, Nohra,” Xaelo replied, his voice softer than usual.
Then Nohra turned to Fael.
“It’s been a long time, Fael.” She smiled warmly.
“And you, Nohra—you’ve not changed a bit,” Fael replied with equal warmth.
In that brief exchange, deep trust was evident.
The company dismounted. Fael looked back at Maya.
“Come now, Maya. Your greeting.”
“A-ah, um… I’m Maya. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Maya’s voice wavered between nerves and shyness, but Nohra replied with a full smile, stronger and brighter than before.
“Yes. Welcome! You’re most welcome here.”
Xaelo, watching, introduced his family:
“This is my wife, Nohra, and my daughter, Neyra. This little one is Nava, my younger granddaughter—she’s five. And this is Nivia, the elder, nine years old, same age as you, Maya.”
Nava beamed with joy. Nivia and Maya exchanged a shy nod.
“All right! Introductions are done—time to prepare for the night! Autumn nights fall quickly, so let’s divide the work!”
With Nohra’s spirited call, the calm mood shifted into bustling energy as the family sprang into action.
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“Then let’s get to it,” Fael said, stretching his back.
Serio and Maya stood frozen in surprise until Baleon remarked,
“I was just as shocked the first time.”
He picked up a bucket and headed for the stream without another word.
Xaelo, seeing their confusion, laughed heartily.
“Hah! Nomads treat guests with courtesy, but once you share a night under their roof, you’re family. And family all lend a hand!”
“I see!”
Serio caught on quickly and ran off to help Baleon with the water.
“Uh—ah…”
Maya still looked lost until Fael spoke gently.
“Maya, we’re part of the nomads now. That means helping with work and cleanup. I’ll unload the Elba, so why don’t you help Xaelo set up the corral? Don’t hesitate to ask him if you’re unsure. Understood?”
Encouraged by Fael’s calm voice, Maya’s hesitation gave way to a smile.
He nodded firmly and ran to Xaelo’s side.
By nightfall, the Elba rested within the corral, their bodies outlined by the light spilling from the tent.
Most lay with eyes closed in quiet repose. Some still chewed dried stalks, eyes shut as though half-asleep.
Now and then an ear flicked at a sound, though it seemed they listened more to the lively voices inside the tent than to the night beyond.
Inside, the welcome feast had already begun.
Xaelo’s round tent was of the standard size and shape used by nomads of the steppe.
At the center was a traditional hearth—its stones, collected at each place they had camped, laid in a ring—and within it the fire stirred quietly.
The tent was wide enough for about ten adults to sit at ease.
Around the hearth, thick mats woven from Elba hair were spread across the ground.
The hearth fire gave the main light, but small earthen bowls filled with plant oil glimmered atop rough wooden stands.
Thus the interior was brighter than one might expect, filled with a warm, gentle glow.
Above, slender timbers fanned outward to form the conical frame, over which thick felt had been laid. At the apex, a round smoke-hole stood open to the sky.
Maya looked up at it, the thought rising within him: “What happens when it rains?” he asked.
Xaelo explained that from inside, they used a long pole to draw the felt across and cover the opening.
In heavy storms, a few drops might slip through, but they fell into the hearth and vanished with a hiss of steam.
Simple though the round tent’s structure was, its form shed the wind well, and it never collapsed even in a storm.
When the cloth flapped loudly, children grew afraid, but adults only laughed and said, “The tent is alive with the wind,” and the children calmed.
“Here, first take this.”
Nohra handed Maya a warmed wooden bowl. Once everyone had theirs, she dipped a small tuft of herb into her own, then lifted it to the hearth fire and let fall a few drops.
Fael whispered to Maya and Serio, seated beside him:
“This is the nomads’ traditional welcome.”
The drops hissed in the fire, sending fragrance through the tent.
Feeling the fragrance, Xaelo spoke with solemn care:
“To our friends who have come to this land—
may the blessings of the moon, the fire, and the rain be upon them.
And to the wind that ever guides us, we give our thanks.”
The family raised their bowls reverently and drank.
Fael’s company followed their example.
“…It’s so delicious…” Maya murmured in wonder.
Nivia and Nava exchanged glances, then Nava cried happily:
“That’s Elba milk!”
“What?! Elba milk is this sweet—and smells this good?!”
Startled, Maya looked at Neyra, who chuckled softly.
“That’s Elba Milk Tea. We steep herbs of the steppe in the milk—it’s our traditional drink.”
Nohra added,
“It’s very good for the body. For us, it’s like a cure-all. Offering it as the first cup to a guest—that’s our highest form of hospitality.”
Maya nodded with deep interest and took another sip.
The familiar milk blended perfectly with the clear fragrance of wild herbs.
“This sweetness—does it come from herbs?”
“Yes, it does.” Nohra nodded.
“One called Chi-rato—it means ‘sweet root.’ Dried and ground, even a little makes the milk astonishingly sweet.”
“And this fragrance…” Maya began.
“That,” Neyra explained,
“is from the herb Mother used just now—when she dropped a few drops into the fire. It’s called Isil-tsa, the ‘moon herb.’ Its name is bound to the Moon Goddess.”
“The Moon Goddess…” Maya whispered.
Nohra continued:
“They say the goddess Isilmeria gave us that herb. From that tale it came to be called ‘moon herb’—Isil-tsa.”
“Moon herb… Isil-tsa…”
Maya repeated the words softly, savoring them, and drank again.
Beside him,
Serio sipped cautiously, muttering “Ouch—fuuu… hot…” with every mouthful.
…Could it be that he had a sensitive tongue…?
The feast of the nomads offered many dishes: Elba cheese and yogurt among other dairy, meals prepared with Elba milk, dishes flavored with wild herbs gathered on the steppe, and bright salads scattered with edible flowers—each one as lovely to behold as it was delicious.
Among them was bread baked from grain brought through trade, a sight that made plain to anyone the richness of steppe cuisine.
Serio looked around the table and asked frankly:
“Come to think of it… you don’t eat meat here?”
“Oh—yeah,” Maya added, remembering his village.
“In the mountain village, hunters lived with us. Aren’t there any here?”
Nohra smiled gently.
“Long before we were born, there were hunters on this steppe—who lived by hunting beasts, even wild Elba.
But in time, people began raising Elba, taking milk and hair, and lending them to caravans as pack beasts.
And so, now, no hunters remain—only the life of herding endures.”
Neyra turned to Maya with a calm gaze.
“Hunting isn’t wrong. But here, the steppe itself shaped us to choose herding as the natural way.
Where land and climate demand it, hunting and meat-eating are part of life—we understand that and accept it.
One day, you will go to many lands and meet many ways of living.
When you wonder why people live as they do—imagine, share their food, work beside them, sleep under their roofs. In that way, you will come to know them.”
“And I believe… that is a very precious thing.”
Maya nodded again and again, letting her words sink deep into his heart.
As she watched Neyra’s words sink in and saw Maya’s shining eyes, Nohra’s face lit as if a new idea had just struck.
“That’s right! Fael, will you be staying on the steppe for a while?”
Fael, sipping his favorite wild-herb soup, replied:
“Ah yes. Tomorrow, Baleon and I must travel deeper into the steppe on other business. I plan to leave Maya and Serio here for a time.”
“Perfect!” Nohra clapped her hands once.
“Neyra—why not take them to visit other families? Let them experience the nomad’s life for themselves.”
“That’s a great idea!” Neyra said, gazing upward in thought.
“This family, or maybe that one…” she murmured happily to herself, already planning.
Serio looked doubtful, as if to say What’s going to happen tomorrow?
But Maya’s eyes shone with anticipation, sensing something wonderful was about to begin.
The autumn night on the steppe lay quiet.
The lively voices of Xaelo’s family and Fael’s company, at times mingling with the soft snorts of the Elba, flowed on into the moonlit heart of the steppe.
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AI disclosure: I am a non-native English writer and have used AI for partial translation and light editing. No AI-generated prose.