Qeya River outstretched arm, and upturned hand

a frowning expression buried his countenance as he watched the jagged ledge of ice float downriver, scraping and shrieking as it went by. wardruna had caught his look, and spoke in his native tongue the name -- jökull. a strong word, hardened and as carved as the ice that slid by them. imrathil's sights wandered back to the murkwater river, which spat a frothy foam along the banks.

"big ice.." he repeated dumbly for a moment, struggling to recall what the tall peaks of monstrous ice had been named: "glacier!" he exclaimed, though found the name less commanding than the way it was said in wardruna's tongue. "i've never seen them in a river before."

at least, he didn't remember ever seeing them in a river; and he was right, for no such river carried ice in its veins that he had ever known in his life.