Moonsong Glacier rises the moon

"Mh-hm," he agreed on Rappahannock — "It's the name of a river. And it's in a song I always liked."

Vairë had more names still, and Valiant listened the way he sometimes focused on the feel of afternoon sunlight warming his face. It gave him the odd idea that they oughtn't be walking at all, but instead streach out in a meadow somewhere. Restful. Sleepy, almost, except he held on like a child for the end of a bedtime story.

"Tukturaluk. Yuralria," he repeated, testing them out for himself. He liked them, of course. The first one especially — but he was beginning to remember this wasn't a participation sport. His input was not necessary. He told her anyway: "My family's got a different sort of naming convention," he told her. "You got names like mine, and I got a cousin name Brave and an uncle named Dauntless. And then you get some like Greeneyes or Blue Ridge — or Slow Dancer, or Wintersong." He liked these names almost as well as the ones they'd been sharing, but there was something special about a name having a secret meaning. One that needed to be shared to be understood. "Or Dreamgirl," he added, speaking it before he'd decided whether or not he wanted to share.

He cut an odd look to Vairë. Did moonwoman teach her daughters witchcraft? It might explain how loose his tongue felt today.

"Seems as you're gonna have a big family," he said in an effort not to say more embarrassingly pointless things. "If you're gonna use all those names."