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"Sunder."
"Sorn."
"Saw."
There is a moment of silence in which all participants in the game consider whether this is an entry according to the rules, or whether Arakáno has just lost.
"I wish it would," he gives them a hint with a smirk that earns him a shove from his brother and a snow-ball to the head from his sister.
"Sick-head!" she adds, clearly pleased when her victim rubs his head, thus providing her submission with an unintended double meaning.
"Sank you," he hisses out of turn and thereby loses the game, but not the contest between the siblings.
"Simble."
"Sistle."
The game is Artanis’ own invention, meant to keep their minds of their misery, if only for a short while. The rules are simple: List words beginning or ending with "th" but use "s" instead. "Serinde" admits defeat. It is not a respectful game, nor very dignified, but they are far beyond caring. They are all playing but for Findaráto and Turukáno and obviously no one has dared to approach Nolofinwë.
But Lalwendë has joined with a smile of mischief that Artanis had not thought her capable of.
"Serinde," her aunt now concedes with a tired shrug of her shoulders.
"Sirsty," Eldalotë continues and the flow of the game comes to a sudden halt as the players are thrown back into reality. They all are thirsty – and hungry, but hunger is easier to deal with, they have discovered.
Surrounded by water in different states, drinking water is still hard to come by. What little wood they have thought to bring from the shores of Araman is almost spend and when it is gone they have hardly any means to melt ice into water besides sticking icicles into their mouths. All of them carry water skins filled with ice close to their bodies, but if they do so too long or with too much ice, their body temperatures drop dangerously. It is tragic, how many they have lost to this mistake before precautions were taken.
Since there is not enough wood to heat water, cooking is prohibited. The host is great and the train it forms long, its rear lost in the far distance to the east, so likely not everyone adheres to the rules, but from what the leading family is reported, social control is working. Since the wood has been rationed, all attempts of fishing or of hunting the strange and scarce game able to survive on the Helcaraxë have been dropped immediately.
The early scouts reported enormous legless creatures, kin possibly to the graceful seals splashing about the shores of Alqualondë, but twice as large at least and with teeth two feet long, and of wraith-like bears, almost invisible in their grey surroundings. The reports were soon repeated and combined with those of people lost. It had mattered little: Before the ground became too dangerous, hunts had been set up, the princes and princesses among the first companies to set out.
---
They are excited when they leave – giddy even, though they do not let on. They are in a grim situation and a grim surrounding and thus they depart with adequately grim faces, bows over their shoulders and spears in their hands. The men bring their swords. They start off beneath friendly twinkling stars and it seems like Varda herself is winking at them. Maybe, they are already half forgiven. Their pace is brisk until they hear the first deep grinding sound beneath their feet. They notice, how the colour of the ice changes and from then on, colour and sound guide them in detecting the most secure paths.
Thus they are lost, when the wind picks up, deafening them with its fierce howling and blinding them by driving in the mists from the southern sea. Sheer luck, not skill, brings them back to the main host, though they have the sense to tie themselves to each other so they will not be separated. The precaution is taken up each time during their travel when the vision is reduced to a few paces ahead. Often enough though, the Noldor have to stop and wait the weather out: be it snow, or mist, or storm.
They find the wondrous animals the scouts have spoken about much later, or rather they are found by them, since the bears – white shadows in a white desert – find exhausted Noldor easier prey then the oversized seals. Those hunters who are more fortunate on their hunting trips than the royal family find game, but can hardly kill it. Their arrows and spears are not meant to pierce skin so thick. They return almost empty handed and try not again.
---
What little meat had been acquired in this fashion had soon been frozen solid. Some still carry it with them for no reason in particular but a faint hope. All the Finwëan’s can show are necklaces with a bear tooth each, not a symbol for a victorious hunt, but for their determination. The bear, when found, had long been dead, while they refuse to die. But who will be able to tell, when they reach the hither shore and be asked about their journey. They drink molten ice and feast on way-bread, but they have teeth to show.
---
Her right hand around the pendant, Artanis takes up the lost thread.
"Toos."
As described in “The Shibboleth of Feanor”, Noldorin Quenya was subject to a consonant shift from Þ (voiceless th as in “thin”) to s. Fëanor rejected this shift for linguistic reasons but especially in honour of his mother, Miriel Þerinde (later: Serinde). Galadriel, in her early dislike of Fëanor, adopted the change even though her father’s household still used Þ. – I took the liberty to "translate" their game into English for readability reasons (and because I had no patience to look up corresponding words in Quenya).