The Flower and The Fountain

Touch of Cold
Summary: The Grinding Ice claims many lives, including those of Ecthelion’s parents. With part of his family in Aman and part gone, he nearly gives up hope and becomes another victim of the ice.

For Elves, who were not susceptible to the changing temperatures, the Helcaraxë should have been nothing. But, in actuality, it was far from that. The cold of the Grinding Ice seeped through the thickest of clothing, freezing one’s blood and flesh. Fair skin and silken hair turned brittle against the swirling winds that never seemed to cease. All around was an icy wasteland, barren and dead of life save for the host of Fingolfin that dared to cross the white plains in order to reach Middle-earth. The Helcaraxë would claim more than one life before the long journey would be over.

“Ada, we must stop,” Turgon called ahead to Fingolfin. He, like the rest of the procession, was tired and hungry. They had little food with them, not realizing they would have to undertake just a lengthy journey; none of them could have foreseen the burning of the Telerin ships that had already cost them so much. At his side huddled Idril, shivering in the cold as she attempted to keep warm by nestling herself between her parents.

“Perhaps you are right,” Fingolfin replied with a sigh. The proud Elf turned, eyeing the long line of Elves that had dared to follow him from Valinor. He wished, not for the first time, that they had never left the beautiful lands of their births and raising. Their decision was made, however, and they could not go back.

With a motion of his hand, Fingolfin called for a halt. A collective sigh of relief and weariness passed through the Elves as they settled down for some short rest. Ecthelion fell heavily upon the ice as did the rest of the host, weariness and cold clinging to his bones. He exhaled slowly, his warm breath turning into a fine mist as it touched the cold air. Behind him the raven-haired Elf could hear his father whispering words of comfort to his mother, his brother not far from them. Ecthelion wished, yet again, that they had not taken part in this journey and had remained behind in Valinor with Glorfindel’s parents.

“Ecthelion? Meldir?”

Ecthelion raised his head as he heard his friend’s voice, offering Glorfindel a small smile. “I’m all right, Glorfindel,” he whispered as the golden-haired Elf sat next to him.

“You are cold.”

“We all are. You should be with what remains of your family.”

Glorfindel shook his head defiantly, moving closer to Ecthelion and taking one of the dark-haired Elf’s hands into his own. “I’m fine. My parents are at least safe, spared from all this. That knowledge comforts me, though it is highly possible that I shall never see them again.”

“I do not understand how you can find such knowledge reassuring, but it is good to know that you do not despair on this journey.” Ecthelion sighed, giving Glorfindel’s hand a small squeeze. “What have we gotten ourselves into, Glorfindel? Why did we ever think to leave a place such as Valinor? We were happy there, could have been happy for the rest of our days had we stayed or turned back with Finarfin’s company. What compels us to go onward like this?”

“I cannot say. But I am at least glad that you are here with me.”

Ecthelion’s gray-blue eyes lifted, meeting with Glorfindel’s own sapphire pair. “Thank you, meldir, for your words.”

Glorfindel merely smiled, placing a tender kiss on the back of Ecthelion’s icy hand. “Do not worry yourself, mellon. We will endure this; there are brighter days ahead of us.” His smiled broadened when Ecthelion nodded and moved closer, seeking out his warmth. Glorfindel gently wrapped an arm around his friend’s shoulders, pulling their bodies close together. They had another long night ahead of them, and an even longer journey still yet to go.

~~~~~~~~~~

“The ice is weak here,” Fingon called back, warning his brother and the rest of the host as he stepped away from a nearly transparent patch of ice. “Stay close together and watch your footing. If it seems safe, it likely isn’t.” Tucking a strand of wind-blown hair behind his ear, the eldest son of Fingolfin nodded to his father before continuing to lead the procession onwards.

They had been walking for what seemed an eternity, and had only made it through half of the length of the Helcaraxë. Yet, they had just reached the most treacherous pass of them all. Huddled together, the large band of Elves stretched their already worn senses to the limit; there were more than a few close calls as they made to cross the ice.

“Careful, Nana,” Ecthelion soothed, tugging on his mother’s arm as he led her onwards; behind them, Astaldion led their father, whispering in hushed tones. Since they had left Valinor, Ecthelion felt more and more in charge of his parents. His parents were scholars, not at all like their sons, who waswere both a scholars and a fighters. Ecthelion was more headstrong than his parents, and even his brother; they had often told him he would make a great warrior one day.

“Ada, I can’t!” Just ahead of Ecthelion, Idril collapsed onto the ice next to her father Turgon.

“Idril, you must get up,” Turgon urged, trying to gently pull his child back to her feet. “You cannot stay here.”

“But I can’t go on,” she protested. “It’s so cold…”

“I know, aier, I know. Please, get to your feet.”

With a nod of her golden head, Idril complied as she struggled to her feet. When he was certain she was steady enough, Turgon smiled and gave his daughter a light kiss upon the brow before handing her care over to his wife and making for where his brother led the host.

“How is it?” Turgon asked quietly, stopping at Fingon’s elbow.

“I cannot say,” the elder brother replied with a sigh. “I sent Glorfindel ahead to scout the area; he should be back shortly.” The words had not yet left his lips when the golden-haired Elf in question returned, a little short of breath. “What did you find?” Fingon asked.

“The ice is thicker just up ahead,” Glorfindel replied with a slight bow. “And the air feels warmer. We are nearing the end of our journey, I believe. It will be some time yet, but there is hope that we will get through this.”

“’Tis good news indeed,” replied Finrod as he approached his cousins. “Once the host is alerted of what you have found, they will be better persuaded to increase their speed.”

“Aye,” Fingon said. “The sooner we finish this journey, the better. I do not believe there will be anyone here who will miss the cold once we have reached Middle-earth.” He was about to say more but his words were cut off by the sound of ice cracking. The group of cousins turned to the sound, as did much of the host, in time to witness a large section of ice crumbling away into the freezing waters below. With the crumbling ice went several elves, include Idril, Ecthelion and their families.

“Valar no!” Turgon shouted, shedding his cloak and making for the pool of murky ice water despite the warning of his heart. Close at his heels were Glorfindel and Fingon, both tossing off their heavier pieces of clothing before they followed Turgon’s lead and dived into the waters.

Glorfindel had never experienced such agonizing cold before. The chilling waters froze his blood in his veins, turned his hair into icicles and threatened to squeeze the air out of his lungs. His chest contracted painfully but he ignored it; the only thought in his mind was to find Ecthelion, and as many others as possible.

~~~~~~~~~~

It hurt, everything hurt. Their fall had been so sudden that he hadn’t had time to think to breath before the waters engulfed him, wetting his clothes and dragging him down. Ecthelion had lost sight of his parents and brother once he had been submerged in the water; all he could remember was someone stepping onto a thin patch of ice, causing it and the surrounding area to crack before the ice gave way. He tried to swim, tried to make for the surface but he couldn’t. The cold was too much, and he was so tired. All he wanted to do was sleep and forget it all.

Gray-blue eyes closed as his mind wandered elsewhere, back to days of the past. He thought of his childhood, of happy times roaming the streets and laughing playfully as he chased Astaldion. He thought of Lórien’s lake, of the days he would spend near the still waters speaking of simple nothings with Glorfindel. Glorfindel…he’d never see his friend again, never tell Glorfindel how he truly felt. For that Ecthelion felt regretful, but there was little he could do but allow the cold and dark to pull him under.

He was barely aware of arms wrapping tightly around him, of lips pressing against his icy pair and breathing life into him again. Ecthelion was aware of very little until he was pulled from the waters and air filled his lungs again. Heaving coughs wrecked through his body, which trembled and felt numb. He curled in on himself, trying to get warm but failing. Again, arms were wrapped around him, followed by a warm, dry cloak; a soothing, familiar voice spoke into his ear.

“Ecthelion, meldir, I have you.”

Eyes heavy with impending unconsciousness lifted to stare into Glorfindel’s worried face. “Gl…Glor…fin…del…” Ecthelion coughed, spitting out water before huddling closer to the warmth his friend provided, tremors coursing through him.

“I’m here, meldir. I’m here.” Placing a tender kiss upon the cold brow, Glorfindel nodded gratefully to Finrod as the son of Finarfin wrapped another cloak arohis his shoulders. He opened his mouth to speak, to ask about Turgon and Fingon, when Finrod waved him silent and motioned to his right. Azure eyes turned, relief filling them when Glorfindel saw Idril curled around her father, shivering from the cold but alive. Of Elenwë there was no sign, nor was there any of Ecthelion’s family or the others that fell save for one small elfling boy that was wrapped tightly in Fingon’s arms.

“Ada…Nana…”

Hearing the hopelessness that mingled in the weak voice, Glorfindel had to force himself to turn to Ecthelion again and meet the gray-blue eyes that suddenly seemed so haunted.

“Glorfindel,” Ecthelion said, speaking slowly as blood flowed back into the blue-tinged lips. “Where are they, Glorfindel? My parents, my brother, did they…”

“I’m sorry, meldir.” Warm tears began to flow down his cheeks as Glorfindel hugged Ecthelion closer. “I tried but I couldn’t find them. I’m so sorry.” He felt his heart break at the whimper the raven-haired Elf issued. Ice-cold hands clutched at his golden hair and soaked clothing as crystal tears fell, mingling with his own.

“Don’t leave me.”

The whisper was barely audible, but Glorfindel heard it nonetheless. Placing gentle kisses across the tear-streaked face, he tenderly rubbed Ecthelion‘s arms and back. “Never, meldir. I‘m not going anywhere.”

“Please don’t.” He attempted to bury himself against Glorfindel, clutching fiercely at his friend until his knuckles turned white. “I’ve lost so much already. Please don’t let me lose you too. I need your strength.”

“And you shall have it. Now rest, Ecthelion. Just rest. I’ll be here.”

“Hannon le.” Feeling somewhat reassured, Ecthelion allowed the welcoming dark to claim him, knowing that Glorfindel would keep his promise.

~~~~~~~~~~

“How is he?”

Glorfindel shook his head at Fingon’s question as the dark-haired Elf settled down on the ice next to him. “I can’t say. His fever won’t go down and I don’t know what to do. Elves do not fall ill, Fingon. I feel at a loss now that I am faced with such a phenomenon.”

Fingon merely nodded, scooting closer and wrapping an arm around his cousin. His free hand tenderly touched Ecthelion’s brow where the Elf’s head rested against Glorfindel’s shoulder. Fingon instantly felt the heat rising from the flushed skin, and it worried him.

It had been three days since the incident that nearly claimed Ecthelion and Idril’s lives. Turgon’s daughter was fairing better, just feeling weak and shaken from her ordeal and her mother’s death. The elfling Fingon had saved was well and eager to leave the frozen lands; none of the others could blame him. But Ecthelion had proven to be the worst of the three, falling ill from the cold and having to be carried by Glorfindel the last few days.

“He has been through much, cousin,” Fingon said, rubbing Glorfindel’s back soothingly. “The loss of close family members is making him weak in spirit, and therefore susceptible to the cold. He needs time to heal properly.”

“What do I do? What cano? o? I can‘t just let him be. There must be something I can do to help, Fingon!” Glorfindel felt hopeless and at an utter loss. He had promised Ecthelion that he wouldn’t leave the raven-haired Elf’s side, but now he was faced with losing his best friend. Tears welled in his eyes but he suppressed them; crying over the matter would do neither of them any good. He had to be strong for them both, until Ecthelion could be strong for himself again.

“Just be with him, Glorfindel,” Fingon said in a soothing, calming voice. “Talk to him, let him know you care and that you are here, waiting. It may not seem like it, but he can hear you. Just talk; he’ll listen.” With one last comforting squeeze, Fingon left to check on the rest of his family, allowing Glorfindel time to ponder his words.

He sat there for some time after Fingon had left, his cousin’s words echoing in his mind. Glorfindel knew the wisdom behind Fingon’s words, knew him to be right. Pushing the despair from his heart, Glorfindel took a deep, calming breath as his eyes settled on Ecthelion’s face.

“Meldir, you can hear me, can’t you? Please, please don’t give up. Don’t leave me to go on alone. I know you’ve lost your family and that the loss pains you. It pains me as well; though my parents live, it feels as if I’ve lost them. It hurts, I know it does, but please dogivegive in. You still have me, Ecthelion. I’m still here. I promised you I wouldn’t live, and I won’t. So don’t you leave me either.”

“Glorfindel?”

Finrod’s voice sounded softly in the icy air; slowly Glorfindel turned to him, meeting sympathetic blue orbs. “Glorfindel,” Finrod called again. “’Tis time we started moving again. Can you manage?”

“Aye,” Glorfindel replied quietly, taking a moment to wrap Ecthelion securely in his cloak before getting to his feet with Finrod’s help.

“He’ll be all right, cousin. Ecthelion has always been a strong one.”

Glorfindel simply smiled, grateful for Finrod’s kind words. Within moments he was walking again, following the rest of the host as they made to finish the rest of their journey. They were nearing the end of the Helcaraxë; the air felt warmer than before, encouraging the Elves to press onward. Suddenly there was a shout from up ahead. Glorfindel’s head snapped up, his senses alert as he looked about for any signs of danger. But he only saw Fingon’s flushed face as the Elf ran towards him, his eyes shimmering in glee and a wide smile plastered upon his face.

“Look, Glorfindel, look!” he said loud enough for all the Elves around them to hear. “Ahead, there! Can you see it?!” Fingon pointed frantically, tugging on Glorfindel’s cloak like an excited child.

Eager to see what it was that was making his cousin so giddy, Glorfindel, as well as the other Elves, followed Fingon’s outstretched arm. They could see nothing but solid white ice for miles…but then, they saw it. There, on the horizon, was a line of green; they could also hear, distantly, the sounds of birds calling and the sea. Glorfindel swallowed the lump forming in his throat when he realized he was seeing and hearing the end of the Helcaraxë, and the beginning of Middle-earth.

“I wish you could see this, meldir,” Glorfindel whispered against Ecthelion’s dark crown as Turgon and Finrod raced past him to deliver the news to the end of the host. “We are nearly there, to Middle-earth. It’s beautiful, what I can see of it. I wish you could see it.”

“I can see it.”

Glorfindel nearly jumped at the sound of the soft, fragile sounding voice that spoke. Startled azure orbs stared down, meeting tired gray-blue eyes. “Ecthelion!”

Ecthelion smiled wearily at his friend whilst snuggling deeper in Glorfindel’s warm embrace. “I’m all right, meldir,” he whispered. “And I can see it, Middle-earth. I was almost afraid I would never see it.”

“I was afraid you would leave me.”

“I couldn’t do that, not to you. I’ve lost much on this journey, but I won’t lose you.” He lifted his head, giving Glorfindel another weak smile as the golden-haired Elf placed a kiss upon his brow. “Thank you for staying with me.”

Glorfindel merely returned the smile, hugging Ecthelion tighter as the host, propelled by the sight of Middle-earth, moved onward to a new home, a new future, and a chance to forget the touch of cold.

TBC...