Bringing over my comment from AO3 -- because this story deserves praise!

Beautiful story. Love your language, oh that description of the cracking ice (like the gut-wrenched complaint of some subterranean animal, a monster heaving up its growl to those listening above), your deep understanding of motherhood -- and that desperate need to protect the little one against great odds (It was a burden, it was love in action, it was a habit, it was a soundless scream of rage, and it went on and on, day after day after day), and of children trying to comprehend (Bear doesn't like this). Tying Idril's childhood loss into her dreams of a disastrous future. I always did wonder about her desire to build that escape route. This answers it. But more, I love the wisdom here. (Most of all, outcomes couldn’t be guaranteed simply by manifesting desire.) Yes, sometimes as much as we want things, life conspires against us. Your description of Idril's lapse into hypothermia is amazing (Black puzzling marks sitting like birds on a clothesline. Black birds sitting on a line.) I got a lump in my throat at that last image of Elenwë. And I loved your description of little Eärendil in the crib with his butt in the air. I totally remember my kids sleeping like that. Well done, my friend.