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Elenwë had managed to position one of the frames they used for shelter during rest time to keep the worst of the wind off while she sat on the old bearskin in the curve of a jutting ice wall and sewed. Needlework had never been her strength though her mother always said it was a skill that marked a lady, but there was no one else now to repair clothing let alone try and make new so, with a growing child, it was up to her.
Skins were hard to sew, she left that to those with stronger fingers. But clothes that had worn out for adults could be cut down to fit a child, and right now she was doing what she could with the dress Artanis had donated, swearing she had no patience to try and fix the tear that ripped from hem to upper thigh. She had caught it on one of those sharp edges of ice that could slice through flesh like a finely honed blade, something Elenwë had never imagined possible before the Crossing began.
Thoughts tickling the edge of awareness made her squint up at what could be seen of the sky through the mist. No snow, not yet though she could smell its newness on the air. She had a sense for it, from where she could not say. Turgon was amused by this, teasing her for being the strangest Vanyar ever, a being from a temperate land who could still somehow sense the approach of snow.
"There was a seal," Idril announced, rounding the screen and sitting down hard next to her mother, almost missing the bearskin. "The biggest seal you ever saw. It came right up on the bridge."
Elenwë gave her a quick look, checking for damage. "I've told you never to go near the big ones, Idril. They're dangerous and vicious, with more teeth than belong in a single mouth."
Idril pushed back blonde hair that had escaped her hood, pushing the hood back in the process. "Oh no Emmë, I wasn’t alone. No, there were lots of people around. Glorfindel hit it over the head a few times and it made ugly noises at him and then Aegnor came to help him. Ada said we'll have to make fire tonight, try and cook it."
Elenwë reached across to ruffle her hair smiling. "Meat will be good," she said, although in truth the smell of roasting seal, more fish than meat, made her stomach turn. Unbidden a memory came to her, Nerdanel caught in the same gesture, petting Idril's hair with a fond smile. For a moment the lump caught in her throat again and she had to blink moisture from her eyes. Nerdanel, a mother of sons, had adored her niece. She said as much when she asked Elenwë to think twice about crossing the sea with such a young child.
The request made sense but Elenwë and Turgon had talked long and late about the lands beyond and how they would find a place for those who wished to join with them, somewhere good and easily protected, with the fertile soil and clean water that the old ones who had been born there spoke about. She tried to explain, but Nerdanel had heard too many explanations, too many excuses already: what it came down to was just those who were leaving and those prepared to stay.
"What's wrong, Emmë?"
She caught herself with a sign. "Oh, I was just thinking about home, hoping everyone is safe and warm. It's nothing."
She wondered if Eðellos felt the same at times, when she looked at little Orodreth, a child of the journey. Finarfin had asked them to reconsider too, but she was a strong woman, equal to Angrod in most things, and refused to plead her belly in this matter. But of course they had thought it would be a shorter distance, unpleasant but soon over...
Elenwë tried to reckon how long they had been on the ice bridge, but couldn't.
Idril stirred and then scrambled to her feet, all pink cheeked and sparkling eyes. The cold held no terrors for her, she was warmly dressed, always fed even when there were scant mouthfuls for her parents, and to her it was just a very grown up adventure she was sharing with extended family. "Ada," she exclaimed, excited. "Are they going to cook the seal?"
Turgon joined them in their tiny island of still air, brushing frost from his shoulders. "We will have the joy of seal meat yes. Father first said no, we should keep moving while the weather is calmer, but for once Finrod was some practical use and said the rest of the company could move on, but he and his were staying with that seal. Made the old man rethink."
Elenwë shook her head smiling. "It's just your father's way, to want to make as much progress as we can before the next storm. But we do need to eat. Not that I think even the biggest seal would be enough to go round. For that we need one of those bears."
Turgon was taking a look at her project and nodding approval. Glancing up he said, "The last bear encounter cost us two lives, he's not eager to repeat it."
"Send Glorfindel after one," she said only half joking. "My cousin seems gifted in this. So strange, he's not over fond of hunting."
"He hates the bears," Turgon said. "They represent everything that's wrong with this place. Still, seal it is. One day we'll be off this ice with grass under our feet and I shall never eat fish again."
Elenwë laughed and made a kissing motion at him, her heart warm for this man and his dreams. "Nor bear, I hope. Are there chickens, did anyone say? We should keep chickens."
"Most animals we know can be found over there, the old ones told me," Turgon said. "That must mean chickens. So you'll turn us into a land of chicken farmers, my love?"
"Well, it'll be your land of course," she laughed. Idril leaned against her, looking at the sewing and she scooped the child into her lap. She would need to start teaching her more than basic stitch craft once they were free of the ice. Beyond the screen the wind was rising, shaking it, but in this little space it was just the three of them and the warmth and care that said 'family'. "So if you do not want chickens - what do you say, Idril? Shall we farm chickens on the other side?"
Her daughter considered her with wide blue eyes. "I don't know about chickens but maybe? And can we have rabbits? Not to eat, but because they're soft."
"You'll have to ask Ada," Elenwë laughed. "Rabbits but not for eating, my lord?"
Turgon laughed in that open relaxed way he shared with no one but her. He was a warm, funny, generous man away from competing with his brother and being on his dignity around all of Finarfin's brood; Elenwë thought they were all slightly mad but she rather envied them, she saw herself as too practical at times, too sensible. Finarfin's children were wild creatures to whom common sense was optional.
"Inedible rabbits," Turgon agreed fondly. "Just for you. And chickens for the best wife the lord of creation could have offered me. And --- sheep would be good, wouldn't they? Fleece for clothing, milk, meat in their later years...?"
He always looked to her opinion on new ideas, combining hers with his own. Not that he always agreed, but he liked to know her mind. It made him feel stronger, he once told her. It was difficult, she had come to realise, to have a brother like Fingon – so likeable, so good-humoured, so inevitably right. "Sheep would be good," she agreed. "One day, where there is grass and no snow. There will be eventually, won't there?" she added, some strange frisson of doubt touching her. "This ice will end and while they fight the enemy you and I will find a good place for the people who just wanted freedom? Sometimes I feel as though this will go on forever, as though there is no end, nothing beyond the Ice."
Idril turned in her lap and looked up with worried eyes, small hands touching her mother's cheeks. "Grass," she said. "And no more seals ever. Like Ada said. Somewhere not cold anymore." For a moment a look almost of puzzlement came into those crystal blue eyes, but then Idril shook her head. "Not cold. Ada will get you lots of cloaks and there will be all kinds of skins and nothing will be wet."
"Are you very cold, my love?" Turgon asked, concerned. They were all used to being cold, it was a part of life now and they dealt with it as best they could.
Elenwë shook her head and hugged Idril to her quickly. "No more than usual, just having silly fancies. I'm glad we'll have a rest here while the seal's being cooked -- I hope they don't struggle with making fire again this time."
"So little to burn," Turgon murmured. "Blubber, bone, the small amount of waste none of us can stomach... but they manage, those with the fire gift. Somehow they manage. There was talk about burning one of the sleds, but Father said no, we would then have to carry that load on our own backs. But after we eat we'll have to move on again, there's a storm coming soon, they say, a big one. It'll be ropes again."
Elenwë pulled a face and shifted Idril in her lap a little so she could get on with her sewing. "I hate being roped. I'm always afraid I'll be pulled into a crevice by the person ahead of me. It’s hard enough, half blinded by snow, without worrying about the next person’s alertness. No, It's much safer choosing your own footing. Maybe we'll be lucky though, maybe it will be over quickly this time."