Finwean Ladies Week 2021 by Kaylee Arafinwiel

Chapter Three - Visions on the Ice

I'm unsure when Galadriel began having visions, but I headcanon that it was a gift of hers quite early on in life. She probably learned how to hone and perfect her control later on, from Melian in Doriath, but she's had it since she was young. This can be a blessing or a curse.

"Írissë!"

The shriek startled the siblings, and Írissë turned from Findecáno to look for Artanis, knowing that voice as well as her own. "Artanis..." The dark-haired daughter of Ñolofinwë gasped as her cousin leaped upon her, tumbling her into a pile of furs. "Artanis, what are you doing?"

"What does it look like she is doing?" Findecáno smirked, though there was a note of jealousy in his tone as well.

"Shut up, Findecáno," Írissë growled. She turned to regard Artanis, who was clinging to her as though to a lifeline. "Artanis, nettenya, art thou well?"

Artanis shook her head, and Írissë gently, carefully, moved garments aside to see the bruising all over her cousin's pale skin.

"What meanest thou by this?" Findecáno demanded. "Artanis, what dost thou here in Írissë's tent?"

"I could ask the same of thee, Findecáno," Artanis retorted. She was still shaking. "Findaráto. I need Findaráto."

Though Findecáno little liked being ordered around by his younger cousin, he could see she was in earnest. He turned and went to find the eldest son of Arafinwë at once. When they were alone, Artanis buried her face in the curve of Írissë's neck, breathing in the scent of her half-frozen hair. She shivered from more than the cold, tears falling.

"What is it, Artanis?" Írissë asked, running her fingers through Artanis' tresses, removing hints of ice here and there. "Thou canst tell me anything, nettenya."

Artanis curled into Írissë's arms, weeping. "When thou goest with Túrucáno," she whispered, "obey him, Írissë. Do not leave his demesne unguarded. Promise me, nettenya, thou wilt be safe."

Írissë gently pushed her touch-starved cousin away, studying her hungry, haunted eyes. "Of what dost thou speak, Artanis? Didst thou See something? Hast thou told me all?"

"I did, but I cannot, and I will not speak of what I do not understand," Artanis whispered. "Just...please, Írissë, remain on guard."

"I will," Írissë vowed, and when Findarato arrived, harp in hand, he played softly for the nissi, sending them both into dreamless sleep, where they might be safe. As safe as the Ice ever could be, that is.