Finding Home

Summary: The Grinding Ice

The wind burns like cold fire against my face, burning through my clothes, penetrating down to the very bone. I have lived with this for weeks. It has never faded; instead it seems to grow worse with each step. But that is far better than becoming numb to the biting cold, for with numbness comes idleness and you mustn�t stop; once you stop for any long period of time there is no standing up again. That is one reason our company is not as big as it once was. Many Elves have been lost along the way. The terrain is treacherous - losing one life should be unacceptable, but we have lost many. They fall behind, tired and numb and, despite very much effort, they are unable to go any further. In this time I have seen and done a lot of things that I wish I had never experienced, and the road is not yet over. This journey, this battle has not come to an end, and so much more could still be lost.

I look straight ahead. I cannot look back anymore, though part of me longs to. I still remember the night that seems so far in the past but can have been no more than a few years ago. We were leaving Valinor; we needed ships on the journey to Middle Earth � ships that would have helped us avoid the route we are now forced to tread. I�ve tried to rationalize that night at Alqualond� when I spilled Elven blood for mere possessions - for finely crafted wood and nothing more: I did not strike the first blow, I was merely defending myself. Not even the tears I shed after seeing the bodies lying in the streets all over the town � males and a few brave-hearted females, rising after their loved ones had fallen - could make this right. It is too late for regret. I was no better than Feanor�s ilk, but perhaps I will be forgiven some day. I can still feel the red hot anger rising in my chest as I trudge through the snow, but I push it away. If I allowed it to, the anger would eat me up � the anger and the fear that lurks in the back of my mind.

I have always been skilled in the political arena, the polite diplomatic face being my mask to the outside world, and I wore it quite comfortably. But here I am thrust out of my natural skills and into the midst of the bitter ice, where my expertise in the battle of wits is of no avail. I am helpless here to do anything but keep on walking. I will never be this helpless again; I, Ecthelion, will take the path of the warrior.  

I draw in a deep breath and the air is like glass shards in my lungs. I need to distract myself quickly; it is much too easy to drown myself in bitter thoughts. I have seen what happens to those that succumb to their inner demons. Maybe in the future it will be recorded by the survivors of the suicides that have taken place here, those unwilling to let the ice take its toll. I will never forget the morning I saw, dark red against the white of the snow, the blood spilled of a young maiden - no family left to speak of, no attachments, no will to go on. She had taken a knife and killed herself quickly, intent on ending the misery. If anything, the hardest part of this journey is not putting one foot in front of another, though that is quite difficult, it is having enough optimism to believe that this will ever end. 

My eyes ache from the glare of the light reflecting off the snow, but I am still able to spot my lover in the crowd. There aren�t a great many golden-haired Elves in our group, and even if there were, Glorfindel would have stood out among them. Perhaps it is my pride in him speaking there, but I doubt it. We are separated for the time being; today he is traveling with his family and I with mine. Normally we would walk together - the days spent in his company never seem quite so dark or cold.- but he needed to talk with his brother, and I am not entirely welcomed by his family. Briefly I allow my eyes to travel over the well-cherished figure and memories float through my mind: warm laughter and teasing kisses, long summer days spent outside, either near the beach or in the long grasses� 

My sweeter thoughts are broken by an ominous sound � ice shifting, cracking slowly. The sound is deafening, everyone stopping to listen. For a long moment there is silence and I can hear the pounding of my heart before the screams start, before the crowd tries to escape. Chaos swirls around us, the mass of people all moving faster, dropping things, paying no attention to the orderly lines that have been arranged and maintained. Wailing fills the air as I rush through the crowd, barely seeing a flash of gold in the surrounding crush - of course Glorfindel would be there, in the most dangerous area, trying to save everyone. There are too many people between him and me. It all happens so fast - a loud, cracking sound as the ice finally gives way and then the screams of the people still left above the surface fill the air. Oh, no, no, no�.not more people lost to the sea, not my Glorfindel. Please, no.  

The broken segment is smaller than we all thought, the air magnified the sound, but the damage is done. People flounder amidst the large chunks of bobbing ice, and for one heart-stopping moment I see him in the water, helping another male Elf towards safety where the surface still holds. I run to help, but others are before me, pulling them out. In a minute that is too long I have him in my arms, soaking wet, and I just don�t care what anyone thinks. I thought I had lost him. I thank every Valar I can remember - I don�t know if they are listening after this whole affair, but that does not stop me. 

His normally tanned skin has a blue sheen to it and his arms are wet, dripping water on me. The golden hair is still crusted with snow; his head never sunk beneath the water. I push it away from his face - it�s untidy, like it always seems to be. My fingers trace over his full lips, but this time they are not curved in the smile that seems to be as natural to him as breathing. He does not explain why he would do such a foolish thing as to jump in, and I do not ask. I need not.  

I kiss him and for a long moment the world stops and this place feels like a distant nightmare; I need not worry how we might possibly keep him warm, or if there are spare clothes that he can change into, or what happens next. The ice and the cold melt away for just one moment as I hold him. My fingers have long lost any sensitivity to touch, but I wind them in hair that I know is as soft as silk and which smells like summer. Glorfindel�s lips pressing against mine are cold at first, but quickly heated and he opens his mouth to me, warm, wet and inviting. In the midst of this cold, desolate wasteland, I feel like I have reached the only place that really matters - home.  

The kiss is over, the warmth and sunshine that he brings to my life carry a heat that soon leaves the mouth, but not the soul. Each smile I see from him in all of this will be an echo of that kiss, a light of hope to warm my path. The worry creeps back in quickly, because he�s standing there dripping and it is going to be impossible to get him warm again. But he�s safe for now, and that�s all I can ask. The darkness has not won and it will not defeat me, not as long as I have Glorfindel beside me.