Moonsong Glacier rises the moon

Ah! She jousted — Valiant relaxed into the conversation with a solemn assertion: "If one is so inclined."

There was a smile still on his face was they lapsed briefly into quietude. He followed her gaze to the glacier, resplendent in the winter sun. The peak behind it drew his eye, and for a moment he felt his grandfather's presence — the man, he thought shrewdly, was laughing at him. Perhaps his father along with him.

"Not a particularly. Not more than any other place," he admitted, stealing a glance in her direction to see if this changed her opinion of him. "I came to the borders and felt something strange — as if someone stood at my back. Someone other than my brother."

Like now, he had more than a suspicion of who that third man was. He did not say as much to Vairë; he did not speak of it to anyone. Not even Dutch.

"I was born in the willows," he told her, nodding toward the rocky mountainside beyong the glacier. "On the other side of the mountains. We grew there and then we played on the great open plains. There is something to like about every place."

He grimaced.

"But not all places have sand," he said. "I will have sand for many years to come. There is always more in my pelt, no matter how hard I shake."