Clouds by Grundy

Clouds

Read Clouds

“That makes no sense!”

“No, but that’s what the book said!”

“Then the book is wrong.”

“Books aren’t wrong – that’s why it’s written down!”

Glorfindel frowned.

What on earth could the twins be quarreling over so vociferously?

Elrohir and Elladan were the darlings of not only their parents, but much of the valley – particularly those of Sindarin heritage, who saw in them the continuance of Lúthien’s line. They were usually cheerful, eager to be of assistance where they could, and above all, of similar mind.

“Aha! Glorfindel can tell us whether it’s true or not!”

Too late to run now – and really, he shouldn’t be fleeing Turgon’s underage descendants when a balrog hadn’t given him pause.

“What has you two so at odds?” he asked curiously.

“We were reading a book about Aman,” Elrohir began, trying not to look cross at his brother.

“…and the book said clouds come seldom in Valinor,” Elladan finished. “Which makes no sense, because plants in Aman must need rain much as they do in Middle-earth.”

Both boys looked expectantly at him, and Glorfindel fought an urge to laugh.

“That book was written by a Man. Hallatan certainly never saw Aman himself, and it’s doubtful he ever met any Amanyar. So while he may have done his best to explain things to his fellow Numenoreans, I suspect he took some poetic liberties – or simply made mistakes.”

“Told you,” Elladan said matter-of-factly.

Elrohir stuck out his tongue.

“He was perhaps thinking,” Glorfindel continued, hoping to smooth the matter over, “that the spectacular summer storms that occasionally struck Numenor were unheard of in Valinor. It does rain, there, but gently.”

“Then why didn’t he say storms if that was what he meant?” Elrohir demanded with all the exasperation of a twelve-year-old who expected the world to make better sense.

“Clouds is more poetic,” Elladan offered dubiously.

“If you boys want to learn about Valinor, I am happy to tell you about it,” Glorfindel offered. “I do know a thing or two about it.”

“Yes please,” Elrohir replied with a sigh.

“That would be a great improvement on this,” Elladan nodded, handing over the offending book disdainfully.

Glorfindel accepted it, and resolved to warn Erestor to explain the shelving system to the twins so they wouldn’t have to go through such arguments on the regular. There were a good many books from early to mid-Numenor in the library.

“I think you boys would be most interested in the woods of Oromë,” he began. “I myself have not been there, but I have heard much from those who have.”

When Celebrían came in search of her sons several hours later at dinnertime, she found two small boys hanging on every word, their earlier argument entirely forgotten.