The tears of Nienna were not enough to heal the marring of the trees, but still she wept, and wept more with all the news her brother Mandos brought her from his nearby halls.

//Weep for the loss of the Teleri, and the fall of the Noldor. Weep for Alqualonde in flames, and my halls filled with the lords of the swanships.//

//Weep for Feanor turned to evil. Weep for those that burned their ships and left their kin to live of die in the dark wastes.//

Nienna wept for the souls in the Halls of Mandos, the voices that called for her pity.

//Weep for the fates thwarted, when Feanor refused the death that was decreed for him. The doom of death lies over him, and yet he does not die. Surely he will, for so the patterns have decreed..//

//Weep for Nerdanel, once called the wise, who felt through the strength of their soul-bond the heartbeat of her still-living husband. For she has renounced her Elven foresight, calling it a work of lies, and sworn to take to the Helcaraxe to follow Feanor, alone if need be. But she will not go alone. Weep for those who follow her, Vanyar as well as Noldor, women and men, who believe now their premonitions of death to be falsehood, and curse the wisdom they now name cowardice. Yet death will surely find them, for the tapestries do not lie.//

Nienna's weeping slowed at the last, and for a moment broke into a strange sound. Then she wept once more. Mandos wondered at the sound she had made. If it had come from another, he might have thought it a laugh.

*

The host of Fingolfin felt the pursuers before they saw them. The ice shook with beating hooves in the distance. Fingolfin ordered the pace to be increased, although in truth his hungry, exhausted, shivering followers could scarcely move at all, let alone any faster than they were. Still, he had the drummers beat a rhythm, and he called to Fingon and Finrod to keep everyone moving as quickly as they could. He did not know if those who followed were the faithful of the Valar come to force their kin to return, or Teleri survivors come to wreak vengeance, but he feared the worst.

At last, the pursuers could not be evaded. Fingolfin called together his children and his brother's and bid them organize the camp. "There must be no second kinslaying," he ordered them. "Resist them if you must, but do not slay them, even if I am slain."

"You will not fall unless we all are slain first," Aredhel said hotly.

Fingolfin shook his head. "I am going to them now. I am not innocent of fault in the events which brought us here. Do not follow me," he added pointedly as Fingon jumped up. "If there is hope of peace I will seek it, and if not perhaps those who pursue the Noldor will be content with the death of their king."

Finrod and Fingon looked to each other, and nodded as one. They knew that if Fingolfin were to fall, it would remain their lot to lead their people into whatever destiny would take them. The rest of the company did not speak.

"Let there be no second kinslaying," Fingolfin said again. A command, or a prayer.

As the pursuers approached, Fingolfin could discern the shape of furred, horned animals, bred to survive the harsh cold. Behind them they drew carts and wagons filled with supplies. Whoever pursued them had thought out their plan, not coming reckless like those they followed onto the Ice. Fingolfin stood alone, and waited.

The leader of the pursuers was wrapped in garments of fur, and it was not until the animals and carts were almost upon him that Fingolfin recognized her, and his fear dissolved into surprise. "Nerdanel!" he shouted. This was more unlooked for than any vengeance, that Feanor's wife should follow them. Had she not declared their mission fruitless, and Feanor doomed to death? Was she the emissary of the Valar's judgement?

Nerdanel dismounted. "Hail, brother!" she shouted.

Fingolfin smiled at the clever way Nerdanel had avoided choosing whether or not to hail him as king, and responded in kind. "Hail, sister. Do you come to bid us return? For I tell you we will not, neither I nor my people."

"It is not for that that I have come," Nerdanel said, but to join my host to yours, and to bring you succor." Behind her Fingolfin could see faces that he recognized, friends and wives and husbands of those who had chosen to follow him.

"Feanor lives," Nerdanel said, before Fingolfin could ask further. "Feanor lives, who ought to have died. Therefore, our foresight is false, or is a name we have given to our fear." He voice ached with regret and fury. Their eyes met, and Fingolfin saw in his brother's wife a pain he knew only too well. "We will follow Feanor, as you have, to give him aid in his fight."

"Is that why I have come to this?" Fingolfin asked bitterly. "I thought it was to escape the punishment of the Valar, or to exile myself for my sins."

Nerdanel put her hand on Fingolfin's shoulder. "We have all sinned, and who is to say whose sins are the greatest? Let us go on together."

They returned to Fingolfin's camp. Nerdanel's followers all removed their hoods so their faces could be clearly seen. A great shout came from the camp, as the exiles saw friends they believed lost to them forever. Elenwe shrieked to see her friend Amarie, and ran to embrace her, looking more alive than she had been since the crossing began. Finrod did not move, but his eyes shone with the light of the trees.

"Is Anaire with you?" Fingolfin asked belatedly.

Nerdanel shook her head. "Anaire remains with Finarfin and Earwen in Valinor."

Fingolfin had not really suspected otherwise. When he had departed, Anaire had said that she would ask the Valar to sever their bond. He still felt their bond, dimly, but it was a faded touch that brought him no comfort. He silently bid her farewell, and wished her joy.

Nerdanel and her companions had brought in their carts food, wood for fires, warm clothes, even shoes and medicines. Fingolfin watched his people regain hope, as what had seemed a hopeless crossing suddenly seemed at the edge of possibility. He had expected that the prophesy would be fulfilled, that he would enter Beleriand to find his hated and beloved brother dead, and find for himself only ruin. Now it seemed like anything was possible, like the curse that had been uttered was truly no more than words.

"If Feanor can live," he whispered, "so can I."

Nerdanel heard him, and smiled.

*****

by Deborah (archion@planet-save.com)