MARCHES: Crossing the Ice

SUMMARY: During the crossing of the Helcaraxë, two Elves find they have more in common than they first thought when death threatens them both. This is an expansion of a memory that my OC Thandir has in my tale Stirrings of Shadow, Chapter 35. This one is for Beruthiel's Cat, for all her help and support.

NOTE ON NAMES: As they have not reached Beleriand yet, the Noldor still use their Quenya names. I list them and the Sindarin names they ultimately chose for themselves (or were given by others) here for easy reference:

Arafinwë: Finarfin.

Calamandil: Thandir. He will ultimately adapt his amilessë or mother-name, Turmaher ‘Shield Lord’ into Sindarin. Calamandil means "Lover of the Light of Aman". Amandilion: ‘son of Amandil’, Thandir’s father.

Elenwë: Turgon’s wife and mother of Idril. As she never made it to Beleriand, her name was never Sindarinized.

Ezelmiril: Calemmiriel. For those paying attention, she is Netilmirë's daughter and Sador’s grandmother, mentioned in Elf, Interrupted: Book One: Glorfindel Redux.

Fëanáro: Fëanor.

Findaráto: Finrod.

Laurefindil: Glorfindel.

Laurendil: Glorendil.

Maitimo: Maedhros.

Ñolofinwë: Fingolfin.

Turucáno: Turgon.

****

Calamandil never thought he could be so cold or hate the color white so much. He had lost count of how long they had been trudging through the frozen wastes of the Helcaraxë. He had ceased to look up into the star-strewn sky and the wavering lights that some claimed were Maiar acting as sentinels, making sure none turned back now that they had made an irrevocable choice to defy the Valar. His heart was sore and grieving for all those whom they had lost along the way. His closest friend, Laurendil, had almost died when one of the ice floes had broken apart. It was only by chance that he happened to be near enough to haul Laurendil out of the icy waters before the ellon had slipped into oblivion. As it was, they had lost Lady Elenwë and three others to the same accident.

He stole a glance at his friend, trudging along beside him. Laurendil still looked shaken and there was an expression of dull apathy in his eyes that did not bode well. He put an arm around the ellon’s shoulders and gave him a hug. "We will make it, meldonya," he whispered. "We will make it and Fëanáro will rue his treachery."

Laurendil merely nodded but said nothing. Calamandil did not know what else to do for his friend, so he merely kept his arm around the ellon’s shoulders and gave him his support. The two continued marching along in the silence of Oiolómë, as some were calling the darkness that surrounded them. How he longed for the Light of the Two Trees and grieved again for their loss.

****

It had amazed the Elves that any kind of life existed in this frozen hell through which they were marching, yet, it was there if they knew where to look. The creatures were strange and wondrous. There were the altarassi, for instance, with their oddly flattened antlers. They had not been dangerous, except when stampeding in a herd. They had proved good to eat and many of the Elves now wore clothes made from their pelts, but these creatures had been left far behind and now they had to scrounge for food. There was always fish, of course, but that got monotonous after awhile. Lichen and moss were also available, but again, neither was very palatable.

Two creatures they found that seemed to thrive in this wasteland — the lossemorco and the tóarwandamunda. Both were dangerous, though for different reasons. The lossemorcor blended so well into the landscape with their snow-white fur that more than one hunting group had found themselves surprised by them and, tragically, some were mauled to death before they even knew what had happened. Luckily, these creatures tended to be solitary or ranged in groups of no more than two or three, usually a mother with her cubs.

The tóarwandamundar, on the other hand, were not hard to miss at all. The smallest one any had seen easily towered over the tallest Elves by a factor of three. These were wooly creatures with long snouts and evil looking tusks, hence their name. It usually took a dozen or so hunters working together to bring down just one of the creatures. The tóarwandamundar were highly prized, not only for the amount of meat they provided, but also for the wooly pelt, which were warmer than the pelts of either the lossemorcor or the altarassi, for, the further from Aman they went, the more incessant and pervasive the cold which they were now feeling.

Teams of hunters were sent out whenever Prince Ñolofinwë ordered an encampment to allow them to rest and recuperate, especially the ellith and the few elflings who were with them. The teams ranged from two to six hunters and each ellon was expected to help in the hunting on a rotating basis. Even the princes of the House of Finwë were not exempt from this duty. Prince Findaráto, for instance, had proven exceptionally skillful in the hunt.

So it was that at their next encampment it fell to Calamandil to join in the hunt, though he was reluctant to leave Laurendil, who normally would have accompanied him, but as the ellon had not yet recovered from his near drowning, he was excused.

"Fear not, Calamandil," one of the ellith in charge of their part of the camp told him. "We will watch over thy friend. He will be well with us."

Calamandil gave Ezelmiril a grateful look. "I thank thee, meldenya. Carityë quildë órenya."

The elleth merely nodded before tucking another blanket around Laurendil who was sleeping. Calamandil bent down and stroked Laurendil’s hair. "Sleep, meldonya, and recover. I will return soon," he whispered, then headed to where the other hunters were gathering to be paired off.

Pairings were determined arbitrarily and Calamandil rarely paired up with the same group of hunters twice, so it was something of a rude shock to find that he’d been assigned to go with Lord Laurefindil this time around. He was the scion of a noble Noldorin family close to the House of Finwë. His atar and Calamandil’s atar were rivals in the Noldóran’s government and their animosity had spilled over to affect their families, so Calamandil viewed Laurefindil as, if not an enemy, then definitely an unfriend.

"I have no quarrel with thee, Amandilion," Laurefindil told him when Calamandil objected to the pairing. "What quarrel our atari might have is their affair. I would think staying alive would take precedence over some petty dispute."

"It was not petty," Calamandil insisted angrily, though in truth he had only the vaguest idea what the original quarrel was about.

Laurefindel raised a supercilious eyebrow. "Let us go," was his only comment and Calamandil was forced to grab his spear and bow and follow him.

****

Calamandil scowled into the dark, wondering what he had done to deserve being saddled with Laurefindil, as arrogant an ellon as there ever was. Takes after his atar, he thought sourly, little suspecting that the object of his disapproval was thinking much the same thing about him. The two were trekking across a snow field, mercifully away from the ice fields that seemed to make up the bulk of their path towards Heceldamar. Where they were walking appeared to be firmer ground, though in this land of incessant white, that could be deceiving.

"The scouts said they found lossemorco tracks in this direction," Laurefindil said, pointing to the northeast, "but I do not see anything."

"That is because thou art looking too far ahead," Calamandil sneered and pointed closer to their feet where there were faint signs that at least one lossemorco had gone that way.

Laurefindil just scowled, refusing to take the bait. "Well, let us see where they lead. No way to tell how many are in this group."

Calamandil shrugged. "We have never come across more than three or four at a time and usually it is a mother with cubs."

"Let us hope it is just a lone male then," Laurefindil said with a grim smile. "The females with cubs are more dangerous."

Calamandil chuckled. "Rather like our own." The other ellon laughed at that; the two of them in full agreement about that subject at least.

Towards the northeast the land rose somewhat and there were tussocks of lichen clinging precariously to a rock here and there. Above them the sky glowed with a reddish light shading towards the blue. The two hunters ignored it; their senses of wonder long since crushed by the exigencies of pure survival. The tracks were becoming more defined and the two Elves sensed they were coming nearer to their prey and went forward with more caution. They crouched behind a low hill of frozen snow and peered over the drift when they heard high squeaking grunts coming from the other side.

"Pityalossemorcor," Laurefindil whispered. Calamandil nodded. Below them were two cubs playfully wrestling with one another. The two ellyn watched for a bit, grimly amused by the cubs’ antics. "I wonder where... Calamandil! Look out!" Laurefindil screamed, shoving the other ellon out of the way of the cubs’ mother which had risen out of nowhere in full rage at the threat to her offspring.

Calamandil had only a confused impression of something huge with teeth and claws swooping down upon him and then he heard a yell and the slick sound of a spear finding its mark. The lossemorco gave a growling grunt that sounded to Calamandil as if the creature were somewhat surprised and then a heavy weight fell on him. There were squeals from the two cubs and then the twang of arrows.

Silence followed.

Calamandil struggled to get the carcass off him but his arms were pinned underneath the body and he could barely move or breathe. The shaft of the spear used to kill the lossemorco had missed him by only a hand’s span as the body fell atop him. The force of the fall had driven the spear nearly through the carcass. Before Calamandil thought he would suffocate from the pressure that had driven his breath from him, there was a shifting of the body and he was finally free, looking up at the worried face of Laurefindil.

"Art thou injured?" the ellon asked, automatically checking Calamandil for wounds. It turned out that all the blood on him belonged to the lossemorco.

"Only my pride," Calamandil muttered as he allowed Laurefindil to help him up. He started to take a step and felt his right ankle twist and gave an involuntary yelp. Laurefindil caught him just in time to prevent him from falling on his face. "And my ankle," he added with a grimace.

"Sittest thou and let me see," Laurefindil said and without giving Calamandil much choice, practically pushed him back onto the ground. Calamandil leaned back against the snow drift and let Laurefindil examine the ankle. "It appeareth unbroken but it looketh rather swollen," he said after a cursory examination. "Thinkest thou canst walk on it if I help?"

"What about the lossemorcor? Prince Ñolofinwë would skin us alive if we abandoned the fresh meat."

Laurefindil nodded, giving the other ellon a tight smile. "Not to mention our respective lords."

Calamandil snorted. "I doubt me that Prince Findaráto knoweth I even exist."

Laurefindil gave him a puzzled look. "Why sayest thou so? Thinkest thou that Findaráto is so careless of his people?"

Calamandil shrugged uncomfortably. "I am the youngest son of an official in the Noldóran’s government. Prince Findaráto would have no occasion to know who I am, for I had not yet been presented to Finwë’s Court."

"Perhaps," Laurefindil conceded, "but that is not to say that he doth not know who thou’rt now."

Calamandil pondered those words for a while as Laurefindil went about the bloody task of skinning the three carcasses and preparing the meat to be transported back to the encampment. "We will wrap the meat in the skins and tie them with the ’morco’s guts," Laurefindil said as he worked, more for something to break the silence between them than because he thought Calamandil was unaware of the usual procedure for transporting fresh meat across the wastefields of the Helcaraxë. Calamandil merely grunted, trying to ease the throbbing of his ankle by packing snow inside his boot and then covering the boot itself with more snow and ice. He dared not remove the boot because of the swelling.

Glancing about him, he frowned. For long periods of time the heavens would remain clear, the stars shining cold and bright above them, indifferent to their plight, but once in a while clouds would roll across the skies and that usually spelled trouble. Far to the west he thought he saw such clouds banking and pointed. "That doth not look good."

Laurefindil glanced up from his messy work and nodded. "Nay, it doth not, but I cannot work any faster than I am." The last sounded almost like an accusation to Calamandil, who scowled.

"I did not purposely set out to injure myself. Why dost thou not bring one of the cubs and I will dress it. I do not need to stand for that."

Laurefindil cast him a dark look and shook his head. "Thou would’st be better employed in digging us a shelter into this drift. I fear me that we will not make it back to the encampment until it bloweth over."

"Thinkest thou so?" Calamandil asked, giving the skies a worried look.

"I would be safe rather than sorry," came the reply and Calamandil nodded.

"Help me up a bit then. I can work better if I am on my knees."

Laurefindil stopped his grisly work, wiping his hands in the snow before helping Calamandil to his knees. The ellon winced slightly as he moved his right foot and he had to hold it out at an awkward angle to minimize the pain from the pressure that was now being placed upon it. He nodded his thanks, using his hands and a knife to scoop out a rough cave. Laurefindil watched him for a moment before returning to his previous task.

"I do not think I will be able to get all the meat off in time," he said, his movements economical, honed from long practice.

"Bring the cubs over here and I will work on them as soon as I have this shelter made," Calamandil suggested. "It will only be big enough for the two of us to sit side-by-side. We should use the carcasses as wind breaks. I do not want to be buried in snow."

"Good idea," Laurefindil acknowledged. He broke off what he was doing and slipped around the drift while Calamandil continued digging. He did not think he would have time to do much more than make an indentation into the drift in which they could huddle. Laurefindil returned shortly, dragging one of the cubs towards him, then he went and got the other one. All this time the clouds from the west were piling up at the horizon and moving slowly but inexorably towards them. Calamandil dug faster.

"Here, let me help," Laurefindil said, kneeling next to the other ellon and using both hands to dig. Calamandil decided it wasn’t worth arguing about and merely nodded.

"Let us hope this coming storm doth not last too long," he said and Laurefindil nodded. The last time a storm had engulfed the Exiles it had lasted far longer than any had anticipated. Not everyone had survived it.

With Laurefindil helping him, they were able to construct a bigger shelter than Calamandil had originally planned, so eventually it was large enough for them to recline as well as sit up as needed. As soon as their cave was nearly completed Laurefindil went back to saving what he could of the lossemorco meat, working furiously to get as much of it as he could, piling the bloody slabs onto the pelt.

"Forget the rest, Laurefindil," Calamandil called out, "we’re running out of time." He pointed in the direction of the storm. Typically, it was upon them sooner than they had thought it would be.

"Just this last bit and I’ll be done," Laurefindil cried back, raising his voice above the howling of the wind as the storm swept darkly across the snowfield, blanking out the starlight and the glowing sheets of color above them.

"Laurefindil!" Calamandil screamed when the other ellon disappeared from sight as the storm raged down upon them. He cursed mightily at the stubbornness of the golden-haired ellon and wondered again just what he had done to deserve being saddled with him.

He was blinded by the snow swirling madly about him, but he had been looking directly at the other Elf when the storm hit, so he started crawling in what he hoped was the right direction. He wondered though how he would find his way back to their makeshift shelter. The snow would fill in any tracks he would make almost as quickly as they were made. He paused to think it out and then scrambled back to the shelter where their russacks were and fished out a length of hísilia. Tying one end around the stiffened foreleg of one of the cubs, he tied the other end around his waist. For good measure he grabbed the length that was in Laurefindil’s pack and hung it around his neck. Then he began crawling in what he hoped was the right direction.

Damn fool! he thought as he waded through the piles of snow gathering around him. Must be that Vanyarin blood in him. He is as flighty as they come and he is going to get us both killed. His thoughts roiled around that idea as he struggled on, trying to ignore the pain in his ankle. After what seemed like an eternity but was probably slightly shorter than that, he literally ran into Laurefindil who, it seemed had had enough sense to dump the meat and throw the pelt over him to give him as much protection as possible. Calamandil’s first indication that he had found the ellon was a squawk of surprise as he apparently crawled over Laurefindil’s hidden body.

"Art thou trying to kill me?" Laurefindil screamed at him as he flung back the pelt to confront Calamandil.

"Nay, I figure this storm can do my work for me," Calamandil snarled back. "Dost thou wish for me to rescue thee or should I go back to the shelter without thee?"

"I do not need rescuing!" Laurefindil protested, "but this meat doth. Help me load it back on the pelt."

"Forget the meat!" Calamandil screamed back. "It is not worth our lives."

"I am not going back to Prince Ñolofinwë empty-handed!" Laurefindil insisted and began piling the meat back onto the pelt while the storm raged. Already huge drifts were piling about them.

Calamandil sighed but did as he was bid. He recognized the expression on Laurefindil’s face. Stubborn ellon! Definitely that Vanyarin blood! was all he could think as he helped Laurefindil with the now frozen slabs of meat. It was difficult as they could barely see their hands in front of them but in short order they were wrapping the pelt around the meat as best they could with some of the hísilia, for there was no way to find the carcass now and use its guts for rope as Laurefindil had originally intended.

"We will put the pelt between us," Laurefindil told him. "Wrap this end of the hísilia around you and I will push."

"If thou lettest go..." Calamandil began to warn him.

"I will not," Laurefindil assured him. "Go thou."

Calamandil nodded and turned towards the shelter, using the hísilia to guide them back. It was slow going and he could feel the cold seeping inside him and felt his energy flag, but he refused to stop, knowing to do so would spell death for them both. At last he found himself nose to paw with the cub corpse and breathed a sigh of relief. Laurefindil scrambled over the pelt and helped Calamandil drag it closer to the entrance which had been protected enough by the other carcasses that it wasn’t completely blocked.

As they scrambled to get under shelter, Calamandil stifled a gasp as pain lanced up his leg with the jostling he and Laurefindil were doing trying to get into comfortable positions in an extremely uncomfortable situation. "Thou should’st just have left the damn meat!" he growled at his companion.

"We need that meat!" Laurefindil snarled back. "Our provisions are dangerously low."

"And if I had not found thee, thou would’st be dead along with the lossemorcor."

"That would’st have pleased thee, neh?" Laurefindil responded, and Calamandil could almost ‘hear’ the smile in his voice, for it was too dark for them to see one another inside their shelter.

Calamandil felt himself go cold with something that had nothing to do with their surroundings. Instead of answering he asked, "Why didst thou join the Rebellion? Did thine atar give his permission for thee to leave?"

"Did thine?" Laurefindil retorted.

"Nay, he did not," Calamandil replied in a low voice full of regret.

"Yet thou didst leave nonetheless."

"Aye, I did," Calamandil said with a sigh.

They sat there in dark silence as the storm continued around them, its own voice strident and full of unrelenting fury. Calamandil shifted his position slightly to ease the cramping that was beginning in his right foot and felt himself sweating in an effort not to cry out. Laurefindil must have surmised his predicament, though, for Calamandil suddenly felt his hands on his shoulders pushing him to lie flat. "Here, let me see if I can help ease the pain," the golden-haired ellon said, sounding almost gentle.

Calamandil leaned back while Laurefindil shifted his own position so that his head was closer to Calamandil’s feet. The ellon thought Laurefindil would remove his boot but instead he felt his fingers begin to massage his calf, using a slow circular motion that sent shivers of pleasure up his spine and he let out an involuntary sigh of relief, feeling himself relax and begin to drift, only to feel Laurefindil shake him.

"Nay, do not sleep yet, meldonya. That way lies death and I do not think thou’rt ready to face Lord Námo just yet."

Calamandil shivered. "Nay, I am not."

"Here, sittest thou up and movest thou all the way back away from the entrance. It will be warmer there."

"I wish we could build a fire," Calamandil said as he complied to Laurefindil’s suggestion.

"As do I," came the reply. Then, Calamandil felt Laurefindil shifting his position as well, but moving away from rather than towards him.

"Where dost thou go?" he demanded.

"Not far," Laurefindil answered. "We cannot have a fire but we need something to keep us warm. Our clothes are too soaked in blood and snow. Even from here I can feel thee shivering."

Calamandil didn’t argue, for indeed he was shivering and couldn’t seem to stop. "What dost thou plan to do?"

"Wait and see," came the irritating reply and then he was gone and Calamandil was left alone in the dark. It was not for long, though it seemed that way to the ellon. Soon he heard the sound of something being dragged into the cave accompanied by a few choice expletives that actually made Calamandil chuckle.

"Doth thine ammë know thou speakest so?" he couldn’t help ask and was rewarded with another string of imprecations that set him laughing.

"Here," Laurefindil said as he came to sit next to Calamandil, "this should keep us warm."

Calamandil felt something soft and, oddly enough, smelling of starlight being wrapped around him and Laurefindil. Almost at once he began to feel warmer. "What is this?" he asked, though he knew the answer.

"It is the lossemorco pelt," Laurefindil said with studied patience as if speaking to a particularly stupid elfling.

"I know that," Calamandil retorted with some exasperation, though he was actually more amused than annoyed. "I meant, I thought the meat was important."

"It is," Laurefindil answered. "I have used my own cloak to cover it. It will do well where it is for now and we should be able to find it easily enough once this storm passes."

There was silence between them after that for some time as each was lost in his own thoughts. Calamandil’s ankle was not throbbing quite as much and he was beginning to feel warm again with the pelt over them and the heat from their hröar as they huddled close together. Too warm. He could feel himself drifting off to sleep and somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that was dangerous but it was too much effort on his part to do anything about it.

"Wakest thou!" Laurefindil demanded, giving him a rude shake. "Thou canst not sleep, for that way lies death and I will not drag thy sorry carcass back to the encampment but leave thee for the tóarwandamundar to feast upon."

Calamandil opened his eyes and muttered something vile. Laurefindil laughed. "Now whose ammë would be shocked?" he enquired as he shifted his position slightly to give Calamandil more room to maneuver himself into a sitting position again, for, to his embarrassment, he discovered that he had actually lain his head upon the other ellon’s lap.

"I cannot stay awake," he explained. "All I wish is to sleep."

"I know," Laurefindil said. "I wish to as well. Therefore, let us promise one another to be the other’s guard and keep each other awake."

"How?"

"Tell me about thyself," came the reply. "Why didst thou join in this madness?"

Calamandil pondered the question for a moment before answering. "Mine atar... he often spoke of the Great Migration and the wide lands across which he traveled. He made it sound... exciting."

He felt rather than saw Laurefindil nod. "They all made it sound like it was a grand adventure," the golden-haired ellon said. "Once, I asked mine atar if he regretted making the journey to Aman and if he would not rather return to Endórë."

"What did he say?"

"He told me never to speak such nonsense again. He said that I should be grateful that I lived in the Peace of the Valar and not scrounging for existence in some nameless wilderness." He gave a rueful chuckle, then asked a question of his own. "Thine atar remaineth in Aman, doth he not?"

"Aye, he and ammë both."

"What words did he speak to thee at thy leaving?"

Calamandil grimaced and, when he answered, his tone was bitter. "‘Thou’rt no son of mine if thou would’st abandon all that we have striven to create here in Aman. Go thou if thou must and mayest thou find thy death more easily than King Finwë’."

"He actually said that?" Laurefindil asked, the shock in his voice evident.

Calamandil nodded, quite forgetting that the other ellon could not see the gesture, but his silence was answer enough. After a while, Calamandil stirred, shifting his legs a bit to ease them. "What about thine atar?" he asked.

At first Laurefindil said nothing and Calamandil thought perhaps the ellon would not answer at all. He was about to say something to break the uneasy silence that had fallen between them when Laurefindil began speaking in a low, emotionless voice. "He followeth Fëanáro."

Calamandil felt a frisson of shock run through his fëa, shock and confusion. "But... I thought he did not wish to leave Aman?"

"Ironic, is it not?" Laurefindil replied with a strangled sob as if he couldn’t decide whether to laugh or cry. "He castigated me for asking about Endórë and here he doth follow after Fëanáro as if he were... were one of the Valar!"

"What about your ammë?" Calamandil whispered.

Laurefindil gave a snort. "Begged us both to stay and when we refused she decided to join us. Atar was furious and blamed me for her decision."

"But... she doth not travel with us," Calamandil stated, trying to remember if he ever saw Laurefindil’s amillë during their journey. "Did she turn back with Prince Arafinwë?"

"Nay, she did not. At first she stayed with me after I joined Prince Turucáno’s troop. Atar had gone on ahead, I think in Maitamo’s train." Laurefindil paused for the longest time. "When we finally caught up with him... in Alqualondë... Ammë tried to stop him from killing one of the Teleri and..." he stopped, as if gathering his courage to speak his next words. "He never saw her... I do not think he ever realized what he did...."

Calamandil found he suddenly could not breathe as Laurefindil ran out of words and began quietly sobbing. He did not know what to do save to put an arm around the ellon’s shoulders and offer him awkward comfort. As Laurefindil’s sobs quieted, Calamandil said the first thing that came to mind. "I think we have all gone a little insane."

He felt Laurefindil nod. Then, the ellon straightened somewhat. "Listen!" he demanded.

"What?" Calamandil asked in confusion. "I hear nothing."

"For there be naught to hear, neh?" Laurefindil replied, moving towards the entrance of their shelter.

Calamandil now understood: the storm had stopped. Silence reigned all around them. He could feel Laurefindil pushing snow to either side of him as he attempted to clear the way out. Soon he was gone and Calamandil moved towards the entrance, taking care with his ankle. Crawling outside he found the skies clear again, the stars as implacable in their uncaring brilliance as ever though the shimmering lights were gone. Laurefindil was busy uncovering the two cub carcasses and his cloak with the meat.

"Bring the pelt," he ordered. "Let us get this meat together and get us hence. I wish to be back at the encampment as quickly as possible."

"Thinkest thou they have sent out search parties for us?"

Laurefindil shrugged. "Not during the storm, though they may well be looking for us now that it hath passed. Perhaps we shall meet them along the way."

Calamandil nodded, then went back into the cave to gather the pelt and their other supplies. While Laurefindil finished with the meat he tried to stand and see how well he could walk. It was painful and he would be slow but he could do it. Laurefindil noticed him testing his balance and nodded with approval.

"Canst thou pull this pelt while I handle the cubs?" he asked and Calamandil nodded, taking the end of the hísilia and tying it around his waist.

"I can manage if we go slow and if I can use thee as a support."

"Let us go then," Laurefindil said. He had yoked the two cubs with the hísilia around their necks and was tying the ends around his waist. Then he offered his arm to Calamandil and together they began trekking back towards the encampment. It was tediously slow, not only because of the weight they were dragging but because the storm had dumped huge drifts of snow that they were forced to either go around or climb.

"We are almost there," Laurefindil said at one point after they had climbed down one of the larger drifts and were taking a short break to catch their breaths. "I recognize those tussocks." He pointed to a clump of rocks and lichen. "We passed them on our way out."

Calamandil nodded but did not speak, deciding to save his energy for the trek. They started off again but stopped almost immediately when a strange vibration came to them through their feet. They glanced around worriedly, trying to make sense of what they were feeling. Then —

"Valar!" Calamandil screamed, the oath involuntarily ripped out of him, as he pointed to the northwest.

Laurefindil began to curse roundly, for coming straight towards them was a maddened tóarwandamunda. They could see spear shafts sticking from its flanks and there were small figures running behind it. Calamandil began frantically to untie the rope around him, his fingers fumbling with cold and fear. Now they could hear the creature bellowing, it’s path straight for them. Laurefindil finally pulled out one of his knives and slashed through the hísilia with a single cut, then he grabbed Calamandil by the shoulder. "Run!" he yelled and together they broke away from the abandoned meat, heedless of their direction, just needing to escape from the tusked death bearing down upon them. The ground shook with the passing of the tóarwandamunda as it neared them and to their horror, large cracks in the ground suddenly appeared before them and around them, revealing the fact that they had run upon a field of ice.

"Back!" Laurefindil screamed, already pushing Calamandil in another direction. "We need to go back."

But it was too late. Calamandil’s ankle chose to give out entirely and the ellon collapsed to his knees with a yelp of pain just as the monster came upon them. The cracks widened with the added weight of the behemoth and before either ellon could react it plunged through the ice taking Calamandil with it.

"No!"

Calamandil had only a confused impression of seeing Laurefindil reach out to him as he sank into the cold dark waters, his blood instantly freezing and his breath gone. He thought he heard someone call his name in a loud, commanding voice — a summons he found nearly impossible to ignore — and then he felt something grab one of his wrists and there was motion upwards towards a light.

I am dead, he thought to himself, feeling curiously unafraid, even uninterested, as if it were happening to someone else, and idly wondering if Lord Námo would be particularly harsh with him. His upward motion stopped and he felt pressure on his chest and dimly heard voices but could not put sense to sound. Then, there was a feeling of nausea followed by a rush of sickness as he started heaving. His consciousness began to clear and he could now understand some of what was being spoken around him even as unseen hands were removing his wet clothing and wrapping him in several cloaks.

"...chasing it for some time..."

"...ran right into the storm and out again...."

"...lost the lossemorco meat..."

That last one was Laurefindil’s voice and for some reason Calamandil felt oddly pleased that he had been able to identify it.

"Well the tóarwandamunda meat should more than make up for it."

Calamandil opened his eyes at the sound of that voice, recognizing it as he had recognized Laurefindil’s, and found himself staring into the concerned face of Prince Findaráto kneeling beside him and rubbing one of his hands. The oldest son of Prince Arafinwë gave him a smile.

"We thought we had lost thee, young Calamandil," the prince said warmly. "Glad I am that thou’rt still with us."

"I... I th-thank thee, lord," Calamandil stuttered, amazed that the prince actually knew his name.

Findaráto just nodded. "I would have hated to see such a brave ellon as thee die. Our people would be the poorer for thy loss." Then the prince stood up, giving him and Laurefindil a brilliant smile. "Rest now, vórima núronya. We will see thee returned unto the encampment in style."

Then he left them to supervise the reclamation of the tóarwandamunda from the ice. Calamandil stared up at Laurefindil, whose golden hair achingly reminded him of the light of Laurelin. "Thou didst save me," was all he could think to say.

Laurefindil merely smiled. "Just returning the favor." Then he gave him a strange, unreadable look. "Art thou mine enemy?" he asked unexpectedly.

For a long moment Calamandil could only stare at the ellon in shock and then he gathered himself up and, looking about, he saw where his frozen clothes had been abandoned. He gestured towards them and Laurefindil seemed to know instinctively what he wanted. The ellon reached across and drew forth a short knife from its sheath and handed it to Calamandil hilt first. Calamandil, his strength gone with that one effort, sank back down into the warmth of the cloaks, turning the knife so its blue-steel blade pointed towards his heart.

"If thou seest an enemy before thee, lord, let him be slain." He paused for a moment, licking his lips before continuing. "Yet if in thy heart thou seest a friend, let this knife be witness to our pledge of amity."

For a long moment neither moved. Then, Laurefindil reached down and grasped the hilt of the knife, raising it just far enough to slice the palm of his right hand, before turning the knife and offering it hilt first to Calamandil. Without breaking eye contact, the ellon grabbed the knife and sliced his own right hand. Then they were clasping each other’s hand, their hot blood mingling before it had time to freeze.

"Let the Valar be our witnesses that in the mingling of our blood I see naught but a friend before me," Laurefindil said.

Calamandil gasped in surprise. "Thou darest to invoke the Valar after what we have done in defying them?"

Laurefindil laughed lightly and bent down as if to impart a secret. "I like to live dangerously," he whispered, giving him a wink.

At first, Calamandil wasn’t sure he had heard correctly, and then he threw back his head in laughter at the absurdity of the statement. "As do I," he replied, and whether his words were meant to seal their oath or were in response to Laurefindil’s confession, neither could say, and in the end, it hardly mattered.

When Prince Findaráto came to check on them again some minutes later it was to find them still hand-clasped in friendship. Arafinwë’s son nodded in approval, glad to see that, Exiles and cursed though they were, some things in their lives were changing for the better.

****

Helcaraxë: Grinding Ice.

Meldonya: My (male) friend.

Meldenya: My (female) friend.

Ellon: Male Elf. The plural is ellyn.

Elleth: Female Elf. The plural is ellith.

Oiolómë: Evernight; cf. Oiolossë ‘Everwhite, Eversnow-white’, a name for Taniquetil, and Oiolairë ‘Eversummer’, the name of a tree.

Altarassë: Caribou or Reindeer, literally, ‘great deer’. The plural is altarassi.

Lossemorco: Polar bear, literally ‘snow-bear’ or ‘snow-white bear’. The plural is lossemorcor.

Pityalossemorcor: Little snow-bears, i.e. cubs.

Tóarwandumunda: Wooly Mammoth, literally, ‘long-mouth (creature) with wool’ [tó ‘wool’ + arwa ‘having, with’ + andamunda ‘long-mouth creature, i.e. an elephant’]. The plural is tóarwandamundar.

Carityë quildë órenya: ‘Thou dost calm my heart’.

Atari: Plural of Atar: Father.

Heceldamar: Land of Forsaken Elves, the name used by the loremasters of Aman for Beleriand.

Hísilia: Elvish rope; equivalent to the Sindarin hithlain.

Ammë: Hypocoristic form of Amillë: Mother.

Hröar: Plural of Hröa: Body.

Endórë: Middle-earth.

Fëa: Spirit, soul.

Vórima núronya: My faithful servant.