Disclaimers: All canon material from The Lord of the Rings trilogy belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien, New Line Cinema, Warner Brothers and Turbine. All other canon references belong to their respected owners. All original material belongs to me, the authoress of this fanfiction story.

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Due to the fact that I couldn't quite figure out what the first summary meant, this idea popped up. And it's also due to the cliché concerning the Fellowship's personalities, possibly their stereotypical personalities, which will be shown here. Enjoy. :)

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A bitter cold numbed Frodo's ears. He could barely feel his ears. His pale hands were cold, his whole body was cold. And yet… was that a mirror, reflecting his chilled brown hair and nearly blue lips. His cheeks were flushed. And yet, there was something different about this mirror. It was… no. It was revealing his peaceful side. His happy side that he couldn't ignore. He was happy, but another part of the mirror revealed his stone-cold heart, yelling at Samwise Gamgee, his friend and gardener, for absolutely no reason whatsoever.

"Come on, Sam!" Frodo's Mirror Self pulled on Sam's brown hair.

"Ouch!" Sam's Mirror Self cried, pulling on Frodo's brown hair too. "Don't do that."

"Did I miss something?" said the auburn-haired dwarf Gimli, double-bladed axe ready in the mirror. "I'm ready to hunt Orcs."

"Now Master Dwarf," Legolas, the dark-haired elf with incredible walking skills on the snow, in Mirror form, turned to Gimli. "I see many things. Many things you could hardly imagine."

Frodo stared further into the mirror. There was Aragorn, the dark-haired ranger, and Gandalf, the elderly wizard dressed in grey robes, in the backdrop studying a map and pondering their next move. There was Merry Brandybuck, the brown-haired hobbit, and Pippin Took, an almost golden hobbit with an innocent look on his face, playing in the background, as well as playing a few pranks here and there. But Frodo was a Baggins. He… no. His companions were staring at the mirror, too. Frodo returned his gaze to the glass mirror. It looked like crystal and diamonds, pure cut and polished. Where was Boromir? There he was. He was staring at the Ring, but also belting out words to various Orcs.

The air was getting more chilled, and yet Frodo's focus was on the mirror. He couldn't stop looking.

"Frodo…" Aragorn's voice was in the backdrop behind him, a hand placed on his small shoulder. But Frodo wasn't paying attention to him. Even as the ranger spoke more desperately. "Frodo!"

"Yes Frodo," Frodo's Mirror Self laughed. "What a surprise to find you here? Did you really think it would go down easily? Did you? I see you for who you are. A servant in need of his master. Trust me, your role with Sam is shifted. He'll take care of you and you'll do nothing. That's right. Nothing." He whispered so softly, loud enough for Frodo to hear him properly.

The wind sure was getting colder.

"We have to get him off this mountain…" Gandalf's voice was also in the distance. Frodo could barely hear anyone. It was almost as if…

"Mr. Frodo!" Sam's hand grabbed Frodo's shoulder in time.

"Yes. Run. Do what you must to save your friends…" Frodo's Mirror Self laughed again. "You won't stop the cold."

"We need to get off the mountain!" Boromir cried.

"We go to Moria," Frodo said, surprising his companions and their mirror selves. "We must go, before we catch cold."

Gandalf nodded. "Then let us move quickly."

Frodo turned back to the mirror. Only the mirror faded, its silver frame with it. He sighed. He supposed it was meant to be. Now what could he and his companions do? Why head to Moria, of course. But what bad awaited them there? He wondered if it was as bad as that mirror, but then he might not know the answer until it was too late to turn back.

The End.

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Thanks for reading. :)