(set a few days before the First Age events in Black Iron - Cooling a fever (XI) )
Tyelpenasse looked around, the howl of arctic winds echoing in his ears and everywhere, the snowstorm blinding him, barely seeing past a few meters. He felt the presence of fellow Eldar around him, knowing that they were setting up camp for the night. Another agonizing night trying to survive and not pass into Mandos in their sleep. Ironic, he thought, as just some days before they did defy the very Vala of fate, thus sealing their Doom forever. And regretted it even more when their "leader" left them hanging on the beach, the red of distant fire speaking of betrayal. Now here they were, on deadly Helcaraxe, with little more than the warmth of their fea and the willpower of their minds to keep them going.
He couldn't see or hear their father, but his sister was cuddled next to him, bundled up in piles of clothing, resting under his arm. His stomach growled. He didn't care. He gave his ration for the day to her, as she needed it most, he was the big brother, he could do without. Sighing, he wondered what they were going to do once the few things they brought with them from Valinor would inevitably run out... fish? How were they supposed to fish in that weather? And with ice all around them. He did spot big shadows move underwater, sea creatures that he never saw before, but while he was a good hunter and prided himself of being skilled... he had no idea how to get his hands on one such creature.
His sister murmured in her rest, curlling closer to him, and he circled his arms around her. Damn the princes. Damn the ice, damn the cold and damn it all! He would see them through, him and Ninde, he would march on.
