InsaneJournal

WHO: Tiberius Ogden and Tristan Urquhart
WHAT: Ten-year-old Tiberius realizes that not all of his future classmates are as smart as he is. But ponies!
WHERE: The Urquhart farm, North Linga, Shetland Islands, Scotland
WHEN: Spring of 1935?
RATING: I'm guessing G. They are wee, after all.

TRISTAN: Tristan always felt weird when visitors came to the island. It felt weird when his brother Wallace had left for school, somehow emptier, despite being short only one eleven-year-old boy. When other people came, it was crowded. They didn't belong here, with the rocks and the seals. They wouldn't know a tern from a guillemot, and they didn't care about the ponies. As far as his isolationist ten-year-old brain was concerned, the outsiders couldn't matter less. His parents, on the other hand, were a different story, and they'd preparing for the visit from 'Missus Fletwock' for days, and looking forward to it for even longer. They'd cleaned out the ash from the fireplace, and brought out the fancy tablecloth, and, most importantly, re-stocked the liquor cabinet. Tristan didn't know nor care about any Missus Fletwock, and all the chattering about her esteem had gone over his head. He didn't even care about the grandson, or nephew, or whatever it was she had that was about his age. Naturally, when the lady arrived, tow-headed boy in tow, Tristan was less than impressed. But nonetheless, his mother had taken him by the hand, and whispered to him to be nice and play with Tiberius, and then shown both of the boys out the door while the grown-ups had their grown-up talk. He kicked at a pebble. "Aye," he said. TIBERIUS: "Hello," was Tiberius's polite response. When his grandmother had said she wanted to spend time with him after he'd been in the southern hemisphere for several months, he expected perhaps tea, or some riding around his grandparents' property. Instead, he was supposed to follow her to some strange place, and they were to be spending quality time together by being apart. However, seeing ponies was certainly better than being holed up in a room and studying. When his grandmother Apparated him to the island, he took in the sights, the sounds, and the smells with great interest. Although he felt there were places that were more beautiful, this place seemed isolated but cozy. And some business transaction that was somehow also a playdate didn't seem so bad. But it was cold. Even bundled up in his expensive robes and one of his warmest cloaks, he wasn't entirely happy with the weather there. Had he remained north the entire winter, it wouldn't have been so bad. He looked even funnier because his hair had been bleached by the sun and he was tanned. Yet the way he carried himself, he didn't seem to be out of place. Tiberius tried to offer a friendly smile, but he just looked cold. "You-you've a very nice lighthouse." TRISTAN: Tristan shrugged. "It's a lighthouse," he said. He'd lived there his whole life, and he didn't see much special about it. He didn't see the other boy's need to comment, but then, if he saw the Ogden family home, he'd probably be taken aback. For his part, he wore no more protection against the elements than a light jumper, and he didn't seem to notice the other boy's shivering. He didn't seem to notice a lot, but after a winter of temperatures nearing zero, the thermometer's slow creep upward meant that it was basically summer. And summer meant more time to play with the ponies, which was probably what his mother had tossed him outside to do in the first place. Still, Tristan thought it was a great idea. "Wanna to see da stables?" he offered. TIBERIUS: To be fair, Tiberius's own grandmother didn't completely realise that the cold was making him move about with his arms glued to his sides and his teeth clenched whenever they were outside. His hands had been jammed into his pockets whenever he wasn't shaking hands. This was Arctic weather for him. Other than it being his first time being so close to a lighthouse, it was intended as a compliment; nonetheless, Tiberius didn't look too put off by Tristan's reply. Truth be told, Tiberius's expression didn't change much at all, though he was convinced his face was completely numb at that time. His brow did crinkle slightly as he tried to decipher Tristan's words, but at the mention of the 'stables', Tiberius had managed to visibly brightened, and he nodded stiffly. "Sh-sure!" TRISTAN: Once again, Tristan didn't pay the other boy's stiffness, shivering, or stuttering. Still, he nodded in return and gestured towards the stable building. "Dat's hit," he said, even though there wasn't really a need for him to point it out -- as the only other structure besides the lighthouse on this side of the island, anyone who knew about the Urquhart family could have guessed the stable's purpose. As Tristan led the boy over, he realised that he didn't know his name, and perhaps the same was true vice-versa. "I'm Tristan, by da way," he added. The Urquharts never locked the stables, so when he and the boy reached it, Tristan simply kicked open the door, revealing two rows of stables, one stacked on top of the other. While the ponies in the bottom level looked for all the world like regular horses, save for the feathery wings tucked into their backs, the ponies above them seemed more like overgrown figures on a very large shelf. Feathers and fur studded the hay strewn about the ground, and many of the ponies had yet to finish shedding their winter coats. Tristan shrugged and put his hands on his hips. "It's a stable," he said. TIBERIUS: After soaking in the atmosphere -- and the cold -- Tiberius only moved his eyes to look at the stables, nodded in return, and then trailed after him. He desperately wanted to get out from the cold. At mention of the other boy's name, Tiberius replied through clenched teeth, "I'm Tiberius." There was a brief pause in his step when he tried to decide whether to take his hand out of of his pocket to shake, but he had justified that Tristan was obviously too busy leading him to the stables to pause. Upon stepping into the building, Tiberius visibly relaxed, from the relative warmth and from seeing all the ponies. His head tilted back to see the ones up top. A confused look briefly appeared on Tiberius's face because, yes, he could see it's a stable. Although he was still facing the ceiling, his eyes darted over to Tristan. "You've a lot of ponies," Tiberius said when he was looking at the ones closest to him again. His hands came out of his pockets and remained at his side, and he desperately looked like he wanted to pet one of the ponies. He tentatively shuffled closer to the nearest one. "Which one is yours?" TRISTAN: Tristan shrugged again. "Alla dem," he said. "Nona dem. Jus' my family's horses." He didn't really think of the horses in terms of ownership. There were some he liked more than others, but Tristan's ten-year-old concept of ownership had suffered thanks to isolation and four siblings. Almost his entire wardrobe was composed of hand-me-downs from his older brother. He led the boy, Tiberius, over to the nearest paddock, which housed a small family of ponies. Tristan approached the foal, which was even smaller than the others, and scratched the it under its neck like a dog. It whinnied. Tristan grabbed the squat pony by its mane, for the Urquharts didn't often bridle their horses, especially not in the stables. He walked it back towards the boy and pointed towards Tiberius and then back to the pony. "Buttercup, Tiberius. Tiberius, Buttercup." TIBERIUS: But there were so many ponies. Not even secretly? Tiberius's eyebrows had started drawing together before he blinked rapidly and did his best to hide his befuddlement. With no living siblings, Tiberius only had to share with cousins. And although his aunts and uncles lived more lavish lifestyles, he was still used to getting what he wanted. Eyebrows raised, he just nodded politely, and followed Tristan some more. Tiberius couldn't keep himself from looking excited to be closer to some ponies. Or maybe it was because he wasn't so cold anymore. Seeing a rotund foal didn't diminish it at all. From where he was standing, its, er, diameter was as large as some of the bigger ponies. He ignored the odd scent of hay and ponies that was somehow on his tongue, and stretched his hand out to the foal. "Hullo, Buttercup." He gave Tristan a quick glance. "How old is she? Has she been outside?" The way he drew his bottom lip in, he seemed to be wanting to ask if they could take her outside. Or any of them, really. TRISTAN: "A year, maybe?" Tristan tilted his head to the side, thinking. "I tink." He loved each and every one of the ponies from the bottom of his chilly Northern heart, but still sometimes Tristan found it difficult to keep track of all of them. There were just too many, and young Tristan had trouble dealing with more than seven things at once (seven being the number of players on a Quidditch team). Was Buttercup older or younger than Blossom? She was definitely bigger, he knew, but that was easy to tell. "Don' remember when da las' time she went out wis, but we kin take 'er," he suggested, unwittingly playing right to Tiberius's wishes. TIBERIUS: He thought? Even before throwing people into the lake became a delightful event in his life, Tiberius had remembered birthdays easily. So his brow furrowed temporarily, as he glanced up and around once again, trying to take the number of ponies into account. No, Tiberius decided, lower lip sticking out slightly, he would still remember them all. But then that expression dropped, and Tiberius completely lit up, looking surprised and delighted. He didn't bother to even try to mask it. It was almost amazing how quickly Tiberius forgot how cold it was outside with the prospect of playing with a winged animal, even if it was a baby pony. And one that didn't look that mobile, to be honest. But people could be surprising, he reasoned, why no ponies? Nonetheless, he asked, "It isn't too cold?" with genuine concern. TRISTAN: Tristan shrugged again. "Nay," he said. "'S right warm today." And, indeed, compared to the Shetland Isles' damp winters, the weather was perfectly balmy. Tristan hadn't ever known anything else (and Hogwarts wouldn't end up being that much better), so Tiberius's comment puzzled him. He didn't dwell on it, instead clicking his tongue at the fat little pony and leading both the pony and Tiberius outside. TIBERIUS: Tiberius trotted alongside the pony, keeping a hand on it as he followed Tristan. Unlike the pony, his stomach didn't jiggle with every step. As soon as the blond boy was at the threshold of the stable, he froze briefly, making a face. Probably one like a vampire taking to sunlight. But he would brave this. "How old are you?" he managed to say that without his teeth chattering this time. TRISTAN: "Ten," Tristan said, not giving the question another thought. When Tiberius stopped, Buttercup stopped as well. He gave Buttercup a gentle tug on her mane. "Whit's a-matter?" he asked, mostly just to ask it. He wasn't really concerning himself with this other boy's temperature problems. TIBERIUS: "Oh, it's n--" Tiberius cut himself off when he realised the other boy was talking to Buttercup. And since the pony wasn't moving, it was pointless for Tiberius to continue walking as well. He lifted a hand to scratch his ear, looking at Tristan with uncertainty. Most of his life, he had interacted with adults or family members, so he couldn't entirely tell if Tristan didn't want to talk or if it was something else. While Tiberius thought Tristan's attention was on Buttercup, he moved the hand close to his mouth, gave a huff of breath, and tried to inhale. TRISTAN: Tristan, for his part, just wasn't a very vocal lad. He'd spent all of his time growing up with his brothers and sister, with whom words weren't necessary. So the two lads missed out on the obligatory 'what House do you think you'll be?' pre-Hogwarts conversation. All for the best, perhaps, as far as Tristan went. As with anything, the boy didn't think about it. Still, he wasn't bad with animals. With one more, firmer tug, Buttercup continued her trot. He thwacked her lovingly on her round rump, and she fluttered into for a moment. "She canna yet fly," he admitted. "But she's close." The horse whinnied affectionately, and Tristan and Tiberius spent the rest of the afternoon playing with her.