I own nothing.
She was always there. For as long as Arakáno could remember, Elenwë was always there. She had lived in Tirion since before he was born. She had been an 'intimate friend' of Turukáno's since he was a tiny child. She seemed like such a fixture in his life that he had never been able to imagine life without her there. He'd imagined that once they reached Endóre, Elenwë would still be there. He'd imagined that she would look on the starlit lands the Calaquendi left behind, with the eyes of the living.
Despite death being far closer to the Noldor on the Ice than it had ever been in Aman, Arakáno had never imagined this.
Turukáno was screaming, clawing at the ground, struggling to get away from them. Arakáno was bigger than Findekáno and Irissë, had more strength in his body than either of them, but even he was having trouble restraining his brother, and without the other two helping, he wouldn't have been able to hold Turukáno back from diving into the water, once again. Turukáno would probably die if he went into the water again; anyone could see that. Anyone could see it, except for Turukáno. Or maybe he did see it, and either didn't care or wished to die. Arakáno pushed that thought aside, and pulled all the harder on his brother's arm, dragging him away from the edge.
Their family was no longer whole. Elenwë was nothing more than a glimmer of gold in dark water, slipping ever further out of reach. There had been grumbling among the host that even as Quendi died all around them, the royal house was untouched. They would be able to grumble no longer, but at a price Arakáno wished dearly that they did not have to pay.
Elenwë would never see Endóre now. She would never see her daughter grow to adulthood, if Itarillë survived this ordeal. Unless by some remote chance they were reunited in the future, Arakáno would never see her again. He would never speak to her again, never hear her laugh or see her smile, nor enjoy the company of one who had been as much a sister to him as Irissë.
His heart was caught in his throat. Turukáno had fallen back on the Ice, what little energy was left in him leaving him behind entirely. Irissë, white-faced, knelt down beside him and stroked his hair in a vain attempt to comfort him. Findekáno had one hand placed firmly on Turukáno's shoulder, in the event that his brother tried to dive under the water again. Their cousins stood close by, lingering helplessly at the edge of this macabre stage with the rest of the crowd. Arakáno turned to his father, in some hope of guidance.
Nolofinwë could offer neither guidance nor comfort. He crouched low on the ground, holding a shivering, sobbing Itarillë close to his chest, his heavy cloak wrapped around her. He had eyes for no one but his granddaughter, seemingly oblivious to all else.
Arakáno shut his eyes, and made a resolution.
He would survive to see Endóre. That had always been what he planned; Arakáno never had any intention of dying here, out on the Ice, not when they had done so much, lost so much to get this far. He would see it for Elenwë, would lay eyes on that distant land for her sake. And if they ever met again, he would describe what he had seen to her. Even if he had only a moment to look upon Endóre, that would be enough. She had lost her life trying to get there. Arakáno needed only a moment.
And if that would ease the empty feeling in his chest, he would be glad.
Arakáno—Argon
Turukáno—Turgon
Findekáno—Fingon
Irissë—Aredhel
Itarillë—Idril
Nolofinwë—Fingolfin
Endóre—Middle-Earth
Calaquendi—'Elves of the Light'; the Elves who lived in Aman, especially during the Years of the Trees (singular: Calaquendë) (Quenya)
Quendi—Elves (singular: Quendë) (Quenya)