tirkesto

This is the gift of the band. A tirkesto is a tir-kesto: a pull-box. You already know tiri, you already know kesto, and the compound needs no teaching at all once you have seen the seam - which is the entire promise of compound words made good in eight letters.

Read it from the right, as always. Kesto is the head, so the thing is a box; tir- says which kind of box, the kind you pull. A learner who meets the word cold in a sentence can price it up without a dictionary, and that is the difference between a planned vocabulary and a borrowed one.

English does the same trick and hides it. A drawer is the thing you draw - draw in the older sense of pull, the one that survives in drawbridge and drawstring and in drawing a sword. Two languages, the same metaphor, and English has simply worn its own compound smooth enough that native speakers no longer notice it.

The family continues: tirkestaro is a chest of drawers, using -ar- for a set, and tirkesteto is the little one in a desk. And the verb keeps its own life - tiri is to pull anything, altiri is to attract, and eltiri is to pull out, which is what you do to the tirkesto itself.