In the Endless Cold
Read In the Endless Cold
"Few of the deeds of the Noldor thereafter surpassed that desperate crossing in hardihood or woe. There Elenwë the wife of Turgon was lost, and many others perished also; and it was with a lessened host that Fingolfin set foot at last upon the Outer Lands.”
Silmarillion Of the Flight of the Noldor
In the Endless Cold
Fingolfin moved slowly through the snow, as thick flakes settled on his cheeks, his clothing and his eyelashes.
Every step seemed to lead him, and those who had followed him, ever deeper into a cold that seemed to have no end. That cold, which had seeped into his bones days earlier, now made it difficult for him even to think.
He no longer hoped for a better end to that long march. He only wished it would end soon.
He walked in silence, like every other elf; conversation had ceased long ago, worn away by days that were all the same.
He turned his gaze to his left. Idril, his little granddaughter, slept, exhausted, in the arms of his son Turgon.
He watched him for a few moments, wondering what he now thought of this undertaking, after Elenwë had fallen and died in the ice four days earlier. Probably a thought similar to his own: they should never have made that journey. Or perhaps he was too lost in grief to think clearly anymore?
An elf
Posted for the SpringBingo2026 event in the Facebook group “Non solo Sherlock – gruppo eventi multifandom”, prompt: “Starry Night”.
Read An elf
"It is told that even as Varda ended her labours, and they were long, when first Menelmacar strode up the sky and the blue fire of Helluin flickered in the mists above the borders of the world, in that hour the Children of the Earth awoke, the Firstborn of Ilúvatar. By the starlit mere of Cuiviénen, Water of Awakening, they rose from the sleep of Ilúvatar; and while they dwelt yet silent by Cuiviénen their eyes beheld first of all things the stars of heaven. Therefore they have ever loved the starlight, and have revered Varda Elentári above all the Valar."
Silmarillion
In the silence that preceded every sound, when the world was still young, he opened his eyes. Above him stretched a sky filled with motionless lights, and his heart was stirred by wonder: they were incredibly bright and beautiful.
He looked down at himself, without conscious thought, and saw his own hands. He moved them instinctively, observing them as if they belonged to someone else. Only then did he realise he had a body and could move it.
He brushed his fingers over the dew-kissed grass and breathed in its scent. Then he sat up. Not far away, a stretch of quiet water reflected the stars.
He stood up, still unsteady. Around him, others like him were doing the same.
He stared at the water for a few moments and, as if to give voice to his amazement, he approached and tried to touch those lights. In doing so, he got his hands wet and shivered.
Around him, the others began to move, to look at one another, to try to form words that did not yet exist.
But he stood unmoving on the bank, with the wet grass beneath his bare feet and the sky reflected in his eyes.
And he knew, without knowing how, that light would never leave him, not even when the shadows came.
