The Once Unmarred Snow

"It looked to Frodo like the remains of an ancient road, that had once been broad and well planned, from Hollin to the mountain-pass...it was the cold chill before the first stir of dawn, and the moon was low".

The Ring Goes South, The Fellowship of the Ring.

The air is cold.

So cold, that I have forgotten what blood flowing through my legs feels like. And yet we must trudge onwards, and always upwards, scaling the peaks of Caradhras, for the passage south is being watched.

So cold.

I fear it will be the death of the hobbits, but I bite the thought back and urge them on, laying my hand on Frodo's young shoulders to encourage him to keep up the pace that Gandalf has set. I look up at him now, his grey robes trailing gently along the snow covered slope, his frame bent and stooped with age, staff in hand to aid his journey.

And yet so strong, tireless, as hale as one in the prime of his youth.

The sunlight blinds us as we travel up the peak, the snow dazzling our vision as we lower our gaze to avoid the sun's glare, only to be attacked by the ground we walk on, the rays of light reflected in every myriad of tiny white snowflakes and ice.

Caught between two suns, and yet in a place without warmth.

There was a time when a great tower stood proudly on the slopes of Caradhras, unscathed by the wilful nature of the mountain. A tower of pure white, its peak often crowned with a thick dusting of snow.

Minas Mãnlos. The Tower of the Unmarred Snow. Another white tower, so mighty and sacred in its high pedestal of stone and ice.

Until dark forces took it and defiled it, then destroyed it. Its fate became that of Minas Ithil, now the accursed and feared Minas Morgul, Tower of the Ringwraiths, which once was that of the Moon. So it was that another tower of Middle-Earth was lost to Sauron's evil arm as it stretched across from Mordor. And now the treason of Isengard completes the sacrilege, Sauron's evil coming full circle to claim the beloved towers of old.

Yet there is a faint glimmer of hope. Minas Tirith still stands, shining in the sunlight. I can see it now, if I close my eyes. Tall and strong, the pillar of the White City.

Gondor. 'Tis many years since I have walked your streets and gazed out from the walls of the mighty watch points. Yet there is much fear and doubt in Gondor, in Men. My heart does not yearn for her as it does for the quiet falls and the twilight peace of Rivendell.

Arwen. I have been blessed with the sight of your beauty and you seek to bless me again by offering your love. Your life.

You bind yourself to me, forsaking the immortal life of your people.

Arwen. I know 'tis not worth much in these troubled times, the word of a mere Man, but I love thee, daughter of Twilight, Evenstar of your people. Though I would love beyond life, death, I would have you leave these shores for the West. There, for certain, our love would live forever, would it not?

But only as a memory.

It is mine to give to whom I will. Like my heart.

I finger the jewel around my neck and sigh quietly, tensing in the fear that the hobbits have caught the sound and detected the longing in it.

Sunlight flickers over the domed centre of Boromir's shield, momentarily blinding me, forcing me to blink.

Son of Gondor, in many ways I think that you are like the tower of the Unmarred Snows. You seem, and indeed are, so proud, so brave, so fair.

So uncertain. Still finding your way, although as Captain you know all roads. Boromir. I see him struggle from time to time. Wrestling with something within himself, which surprises me, as he is a Captain of many troops, seasoned in battle, skilful in fighting, decisive in strategy. And yet, it does not completely surprise me, for some reason that I cannot fathom.

It is long since I put my trust in other Men, or even myself.

Minas Mãnlos. You stood here, many years ago, and guards in the highest vantage points cried out that dark forces were gathering at the foot of Caradhras. Screams in the night and the clash of dark blades on bloodied armour. Defiant howls under the moon.

And the snows ran red with blood.

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