Looking over the lush and endless steppes, a young boy was absentmindedly sitting atop a small rocky hill. The dying sunlight shone from his back, gilding his loose strands of hair. Apart from the occasional snorts from his horse nearby, the only sound present was the unending hum of wind. The young boy gently tapped his fingers on his knee, the habit borne from long hours of solitude.
"Temüjin[1]!"
The boy kept staring into the distance seemingly unaware of the surroundings. Only when the caller shouted again, accompanied by the thud of approaching hooves did he turn around to look. A small smile escaped his lips before he greeted the newcomer.
"Börte[2]. Came to fetch me?"
"Of course I did, you kept disappearing to who knows where. Can you stop doing that? Mother kept scolding me because of you!"
"Isn't it your responsibility to keep your betrothed in sight?" Temüjin said with a tease in his eyes.
"Bah! Who said I want to marry you?" She responded with disdain but nevertheless guided the horse towards him.
"Come, sit beside me."
"If I'm scolded this time, you better take the blame ... or else" She said as she dismounted from the horse.
"Alright, I'll cover for you. I know you want to escape your chores as well. Come here."
"You said that yesterday and then you disappeared!" Börte said with indignation.
"Didn't I apologize to you already? Can't you forgive your beloved for this one little thing?" He said wearing a remorseless smile.
"Again, who said I'm going to marry you?! Hmph!"
She sat beside Temüjin and kept muttering complaints. How unfair that her mother gave so many chores while he was lazing around, how long her friend Hulan pestered her to braid her hair, and everything in between.
Temüjin listened to her patiently with periodic murmur of agreement though it was mostly Börte talking. He never knew the girl was this talkative in her teenage years. Records of her childhood were scarce, leaving him unprepared for the reality of this lively girl beside him.
Only after a long tirade did she finally stop and realize she had been talking so long and her throat was dry.
"Feeling better now?" He said in a playful tone while offering her his bota[3] bag.
Börte gave him a sidelong glance but said nothing and grabbed the waterskin.
"Doesn't it always feel better to let it all out?" He questioned her while she drank.
"Then why do you always say nothing and stare like a mute?" She spat back, wiping her mouth and handing the bag to him.
"Well, some things are just hard to say. Or long. Or both." He said with a thin smile.
"I really don't get what's so good about looking at this empty place. These are the same damn mountains I've seen all my life."
"Mind your tongue, young lady." He reminded her like an elder.
"Pah! Who are you to lecture me? Also I'm older than you! I should be the one doing the scolding!" Börte said, pouting.
The two spoke nothing for a while. It was Temüjin who broke the silence.
"I think I might have to go back for a while."
"Huh, how come I didn't know anything about this? My mother also told me nothing. And I didn't see any of your elders visiting." Börte blinked in surprise.
"Just my hunch."
Of course she didn't know. It would be strange if she knew about the events transpiring tens of miles away.
He knew because the historians had already written the ending. How his scourge of a "father" had come across a band of Tartars[4] on his way back and shared a meal with them. How they poisoned him without his knowledge and saw him off on his last trip home, and how this whole incident upended Temüjin's life and pushed him towards twenty years of hardships and sufferings.
He knew all about this. But alas, it was too late. By the time he became aware of these memories, his father, Yesügei, might have already crossed to the other side.
Despite all of this, there was not a hint of sorrow on his face. There was no affection between him and his father in the first place. His only regret was being unable to enjoy a few more years of comfort before he was thrust into adulthood.
Most importantly, he was not Temüjin.
[1] Means "Of Iron" or "Blacksmith". Hence the chapter title.
[2] Means "Speckled" or "Mottled". But there is no unanimous agreement on this as far as my research goes.
[3] Portable leather bag for carrying water, wine or other drinks.
[4] Not to be confused with Tartars called by Europeans, which is a somewhat derogatory terms for the Mongols. Here it is referred to the Mongolic/Turkish tribes which were later defeated by Genghis Khan.