Summary: Cold is the North and knows no mercy. The Noldor are dying. Their leader is making a short note in his diary.
Unknown date - I will never again smile at the sight of the first snow
The time is but a term from the past, along with the words „spring", „comfort" and „a day". We all lost the count of days and many of us think we're wandering through the Ice for ages. How to measure time when there is no light of the Trees? The stars are looking down at us, following their paths - we are trying to adjust ourselves to their rotation above our heads.
Many of us lost too much and faded. We couldn't do anything more for them aside of burying their bodies under rocks to prevent predators from eating them. I do hope they are safe in Mandos and the Valar will
let them be reborn one day. Coldness seems to sneak under our skin and into our minds. Even Lalwendë doesn't laugh - the one who was always so strong willed, so optimistic. She clings to Aredhel near to me right now. Many of us sit in groups to keep each other warm. When a person has no one to sit next to there are always groups willing to welcome them. It is good to see those signs of unification among the Noldor. If we want to survive we must stay together, no matter what.
And there is more and more people who lost their beloved ones. We all must deal with the loss and sorrow. The only thing that makes our hearts lighter is the knowledge, that our beloved ones are in Mandos now, safe in Namo's keep. But we don't know what will happen to them. Would they be sentenced to spend eternity in the grim Halls of Mandos?
Those who remain are strong, stern, their fear are bright like the starlight mirroring in the ice. I hope we will learn how to laugh after this march's end.
Every day I pray for the lands of Endore to spread before us. I pray for a dark, distant line of green on the horizon - the sign that the end of our journey is close. I know many lost their faith, but I don't want to give up. Those who lose faith and hope are those who will fade soon. Only the strong ones can manage to survive this horror. Yet each day we see just the white desert, cold and merciless. There is beauty in it, in the glow of the stars on the ice - but this is a deadly beauty.
I will never again smile at the sight of the first snow.
It is hard not to hate this cold, dead land we're crossing. It is hard not to hate Feanaro, who caused this whole thing. He made the Noldor leave Valinor in such a haste, agains the will of the Valar. And then he left us behind.
I know many think he did good because he freed us from the Valarin influence, opened a new door for us. Yet... I have this feeling we could achive that without arguing, by more diplomatic methods.
And now we are here, left by everyone to die and be forgotten forever. Unless we survive.
Hope makes us stand up and walk every day, hope and stubborness. There is no one to help us, even Varda's stars seem to be so far above us, so cold... Like the ice under our feet. Yet they're guiding us, showing us the right direction. I feel as if in this silent land Varda is listening to us, to our prayers, to our suffering and doing her best to help us. We have only the starlight to remember who we once were.
