The Departure of Elenwë
Turukáno was standing outside his tent one morning. His pale grey fur coat kept him warm, and his faded ice blue cape snapped in the icy winds. A piece of hail from last night's storm fell from his tent's roof, bonking him on the head. Turukáno winced, and rubbed his sore scalp. Life on the Helkaraxë had never been easy. Valinor had been so wonderful by comparison. He ran his fingers through his long black hair. He never tied golden ribbons in his hair, unlike his brother Findekáno. His mind swam with incoherent thoughts until he sighted his wife and daughter running across the ice towards him. "Elenwë! Itarillë!" he called. "Turvo!" he heard Elenwë shout back. They were back from hunting, and from afar Turukáno could see a large pure white baby deer hanging on Itarillë's shoulder. Even so, she was as lithe and agile as ever. She walked light-footed on everything, earning her the name of Celebrindal Silverfoot. But just as Turukáno was taking pride in his beautiful daughter, he remembered how he had covered that piece of ice yesterday. It was barely enough to sport his weight. Too late he realized the truth. "Vátyë!" he called in horrid understanding. But he heard a huge CRAAACK and raised his head. Elenwë and Itarillë had broken the thin ice and fell into the water!
Instinctively Turukáno started to run towards them. "Atar!" little Itarillë screamed out. Elenwë was trying to shout, but her voice was drowned out by the relentless winter wind. Turukáno called out to assure them again. Running with the fastest possible speed, he reached them in a moment. "Turvo!" Elenwë cried, then was momentarily pulled down by the waves again. Turukáno knelt down, calling to Elenwë and Itarillë to grab his hand. Itarillë tried to grab his wrist, but the torrent pushed her down again. Turukáno bit his lip. He had to do it. He flung his cape and coat to the ground, trying not to shiver in his night blue robes. He then plunged straight into the icy water. His jaw and heart constricted at the same time, and "Eru!" escaped his lips, sending a stream of bubbles floating to the surface. The water was so cold it seemed to grab his throat. He understood Elenwë and Itarillë's pain now, marveling at their endurance. Immediately he swam blindly, guided by Itarillë's cries. He grabbed desperately at the swirling torrents, trying to keep his eyes open. Suddenly he touched something. It was Elenwë's wrist. Turukáno immediately grabbed her and attempted to pull her up. But the weight of them both was staggering. Turukáno saw Elenwë trying to say something, and she gasped for air. She finally whispered, "Turvo...Itaril-Itarillë...á rehtie Itarillë..." then succumbed to the waves. Turukáno was stunned. He couldn't move. But just as Elenwë's life was waning, she pushed him towards their daughter, struggling to stay aloft in the water, and with a final whisper of "Namárië, Turvo...i estel ar elen koivienyo...", her strength failed her, and she disappeared beneath the waves.
Turukáno knew there was no time for lamenting. Itarillë's face was going blue, and her strength was waning. He floundered over to her and caught her arm, feeling the cold, shivering flesh of his daughter. "Atar..." she whispered, then gasped for air like a fish finally returned to water. With much effort and struggling, Turukáno dragged himself and his daughter up to the ice. Itarillë immediately passed out, and for a moment Turukáno just lay face up on the ice, trying to ignore the growing numbness on his back. Once he had caught his breath, he threw Itarillë onto his back and trudged back to his brother Findekáno's tent. "Findo..." he whispered, then collapsed on a chair, breathing heavily. Findekáno started, almost screaming out loud. The golden ribbons in his hair started to pull away from his hair because Turukáno had not closed the tent flap. Turukáno fell into a daze, only knowing that Findekáno had ushered him and Itarillë into the bath and gave them clean clothes. He remembered telling him about what had happened, and how Elenwë was lost. He vaguely saw Findekáno's hair blowing wildly in the icy wind, and the last of the golden ribbons tug free and fly off into the grey winter sky. As Turukáno finished his story, he suddenly realized what had happened, and the grief hit him like a smack, carrying bits of hail into his eyes. He started up and tore out of the tent, running at full speed towards the hole in the ice where the three had struggled for so long.
"T-Turvo!" Findekáno cried, tearing out of his tent also, shivering in his light household robes. He vaguely saw Turukáno attempting to go into the waves, and to follow Elenwë. Findekáno was aghast. "Turukáno! Vátyë! TURVO!" he screamed, his normally graceful black hair snapping in the wind. Turukáno turned around for one moment. His hair whipped in the wind, bits of hail catching in his tresses, mingling with his tears. Findekáno finally reached his brother. Tears also started in his eyes. He put his arms around his normally stoic and strong brother, half in support and half in suppression. Turukáno buried his head in Findekáno's shoulder, his hair grazing his eyes. "Findo..." he wept, reminding Findekáno of their dead brother Arakáno when he woke up from a nightmare when he was a baby. Findekáno's heart ached at these memories. But he supported Turukáno back to camp, and bid him sleep.
But he sat in a corner and closed his eyes. "Elenwë..." he whispered, "Namárië..." And the tears sprang to his eyes again, melting the ice on his face...