The sea was not at rest, though it wasn't quite raging either. The scent of salt and brine was heart achingly familiar to her, calling back days when the light of the two trees still shone in Aman. When she used to know the friend standing next to her, her confidant, her sister of the soul.
Artanis, Nerwen by her mother, now called Galadríel, the name given by her husband long before they were wed, thought she had known the very core of her soul-sister, Eäriel. But having heard of her deeds in battle, and indeed witnessed a rare few, her magic violent and oppressive and so very, very strong, it was as if seeing her in a new light.
She had crossed the Helcaraxë with Galadríel, using what she called warming charms to help combat the cold, and many other spells to assist in the survival of their people. Eäriel's magic, known to but a few, hadn't saved Elenwë, Turúkano's wife though, something Turúkano could never quite forgive her for, though he knew it was not Eäriel's fault.
Galadríel knew something Turúkano had never known though, Eäriel had always known Elenwë would perish during their trek across the ice. She had confessed to Galadríel in profound grief, and no little guilt—though it be forever misplaced—after the passing of Elenwë to Mados' Halls. Galdríel knew, therefore, the compassion and deep emotion with which Eäriel loved the rest of the Eldar, especially those who she had grown close to since appearing on the shores of Aman when the two trees still proudly shone their light.
But the fey creature who had battled during the war of wrath, the brightly burning, spell throwing, lethal weapon who had cleared more than her fair share of countless battlefields during a forty-five year-long war, she was not who Galdríel expected. She was utterly unknown to her, and even Galadríel, Great as she was of the Noldor, even before many had passed the newly open paths back to the west, stood now intimidated, and not a little frightened of her friend in the quiet silence.
"Will you return?" Galadríel finally asks.
If she didn't know better, Galadríel would have taken the moment of false consideration as true, as if she had managed to take Eäriel off guard. But she hadn't.
Eäriel continued to look at the starlit sky, the still recent, as the Eldar account time, star of Gil-Estel. "Not yet, I don't think," she finally said, facing Galdríel for the first time in many years. "We are at the dawn of a new age, for both the first-born and second-born." She paused, turning back to the stars, but continued in a solemn voice that spoke of foreknowledge. "New kingdoms shall rise, both of elves and men, a shadow will stretch across the lands, and the days of the Eldar shall fade with the rising of mankind." A fey flame flickered in her eyes as she turned to lock her gaze with mine. "A daughter to you shall be born, strong in spirit