April Fancies by AdmirableMonster

Transmutation

Two Númenorean philosophers contemplate the weather.

Prompt:

♥ wind, rain, shelter, quick

♥ word: transmutation

♥ The snow of yesterday
That fell like cherry blossoms
Is water once again

It’s raining, ferocious, grey, and ugly.  Nimruzimir shivers with cold, trying to shelter himself with an old newspaper, which is rapidly becoming sodden, unpleasant, and no kind of shelter at all.  Winter in Armenelos was always like this: one long soggy smear.  In Lond Daer, where he grew up, the winds sometimes blew from the north, carrying heavy snows, which shone like bright diamonds beneath a cold Sun.  His mother used to take him outside to play, and he filled his pockets with snow and brought the snow back inside, marveling at the way the flakes quickly transmuted into water droplets.  Taking them back outside made them freeze, and if he spread the water carefully, it would freeze in a thin, shimmering layer, clear and almost reflective, but it would never again grow into those beautiful crystalline shapes that stacked altogether made white.

“Need a hand?” says a thunderous, hoarse voice, a little too close to his ear.  He jumps, and an unfortunate quantity of rain goes down the back of his neck.  “Sorry, man.”

It’s Lilóteo, swathed in a heavy black raincoat, his beard tucked beneath it, holding up a black umbrella, which he diffidently holds out over Nimruzimir’s head.

“Ah—thank you.”  Nimruzimir shuffles, feeling warmth in his cheeks warring with the cold of the rainwater.

“You’ll have to squeeze in close, the umbrella’s not very big.”

He’s kind, Nimruzimir thinks, squeezing closer—gruff, but kind.  He knows little of the head of his order yet, but some part of him stops regretting the loss of the winters of his childhood in favor of enjoying the sudden warmth of his present.