I was falling...falling into an endless abyss of darkness...was there no end to this darkness? Then, I was not falling, just floating, hovering, surrounded by the dark. Sudden terror washed over me as a bright orange light flared in the distance. It became brighter as it drew closer, with sinister flickers of red at the edges. Wisps of smoke curled around me, pulling at my hair and clothes, surrounding me, setting me adrift in a sea of malevolent whispers. I wanted to scream, to run...but I was trapped.
My body lurched and my eyes flew open.
Where was I?
Why was it so dark?
It took me several heart-stopping moments to grasp that I was awake, lying in the darkness of our ramshackle shelter and not still trapped in that nightmare abyss. The wind screamed outside and I shivered, huddling in closer to the steady gentle warmth of Legolas at my back.
Though our situation was less than ideal, I was simply grateful that I was not alone, however selfish such a feeling might have been, and in spite of the price Legolas had already paid in trying to keep me safe. My eyes drifted closed again, trying to shut away the bitter biting cold.
The sooner this night passed the better.
I was standing at the bottom of a deep pit, staring up at the sky and the walls of the pit stretching up high above me. Slowly the snow began to fall. Panicking, I threw myself at the walls of the pit, scrambling to try and climb its sheer walls. A rumbling began in the distance and then within seconds, an avalanche flooded into the pit. Crushed beneath the smothering snow, unable to escape, to breathe...slowly suffocating...
Then, I was awake, as suddenly and abruptly as if someone had screamed my name in ear. My breaths came in rapid pants, harshly loud in the silence of the cave. I uncurled my hand from its death-grip on the Ring and forced myself to take a deep breath. The cave had become hot and stuffy overnight, but at least it had not collapsed and smothered us to death, nor had we been slaughtered by goblins in our sleep.
I was not supposed to have slept at all. I was supposed to have kept watch, protected Legolas.
How useless!
First, I get us both into this mess, and now I fail at the one thing I could have done to keep us safe! I pushed the guilt down, I would do better tonight. Likely we would be out in the open tonight, and after all, considering how exhausted I'd been last night, had I not slept, I would have been completely useless to Legolas today. It was fine that I had fallen asleep.
Slowly, and very carefully, I wriggled free of Legolas' restraining arm and crawled to the door, using Sting's sheath to batter my way through to the clean, unstuffy air. I was greeted with a blast of frigid wind on my too-hot face and sighed in relief before belatedly remembering that perhaps, maybe, Legolas might not wish to be rudely awakened by the cold air.
I crawled outside, eyes screwed shut for a moment against the painfully bright morning sun on the snow. At least it wasn't snowing. In fact, when I finally dared to open my eyes again, there didn't seem to be a cloud in the sky. Finally, a little luck, I smiled. I stretched gratefully and swept aside a little patch of snow so as to sit down on my cloak and catalogue my injuries from the fall.
All in all, it could have been far worse. My torso was bruised and battered, but I could not feel any broken ribs, thanks largely to my mithril coat I guessed. My legs and arms were scored heavily with small cuts and large bruises where my clothes had torn and where Sting had battered me. My throat ached from my reckless screaming during the fall, made worse with thirst. That was going to be a problem, as there was certainly no water to be found on this mountain ledge, unless one counted the snow.
My feet and hands were of particular concern and I checked them carefully for the signs of frostbite that Aragorn had warned us of. The skin may be numb, he'd warned. Or there may be sharp prickling sensation or discolouration. They seemed undamaged, but I rubbed them carefully to be sure. No pain there or numbness.
I was stiff and battered, but miraculously, I was whole and alive. My stomach gurgled loudly and I was viscerally of delicious home-cooked meals in the Shire, of loud boisterous nights at the Green Dragon, of huddling around a fire and praising Sam's skills at turning rations into meals, of sharing an apple between Merry, Pippin and myself... I laughed aloud, remembering Merry and Pippin bickering over a missing rasher of bacon from Merry's plate, stolen while he'd been distracted by one of Boromir's stories...
My laughter was cut short as Legolas crawled his way out of our snow cave, slowly and awkwardly with only one hand. It was no miracle I was so unharmed, for it was evident now that Legolas had taken much of the damage the mountain had intended for me. His clothes were torn and bloodied; cuts and bruises marred the exposed skin and his high cheekbones; a large gash slashed across his forehead, somehow he'd cleaned off the worst of the blood, but there was still some faint staining across his face. He did not stand as he emerged, as I had, he simply winced at the bright light and shuffled awkwardly to lean against the mountainside, sitting upright with his right arm cradled against his chest.
How in the name of all that was good had he ever managed to help with the shelter last night?
"Legolas?" I scrambled over to him, all at once guilty, horrified and concerned.
"Good morning, Master Baggins." His voice was deceptively light and he even managed to smile faintly at me. The confusion that had been so terrifyingly evident on his face last night was gone now and his eyes were bright and clear, much to my relief.
"How...How bad are you-?" I struggled to express myself, to ask him for the full extent of the injuries I could not plainly see. He seemed to understand.
"My shoulder is badly wrenched, I fear; I managed to set it right a few moments ago, for it was dis...disem...no, dislocated?" A frown creased his brows momentarily and I felt a stab of worry. Perhaps the disorientation from his head wound was not as miraculously healed as I'd thought. "Several of my ribs are likely broken, and it is quite difficult to breathe." He continued, reciting a litany of battered limbs that made me ache in sympathy. He was not entirely stoic about it either. He winced and shuffled restlessly as he dutifully informed me of his list of complaints.
"In truth, we have been rather lucky, Master Hobbit."
"Lucky?" I echoed in disbelief. Until I had heard that list, I had thought so too, but now I was none too certain.
Legolas flashed me another smile. "We are alive. We are not so badly hurt that we cannot continue to move on. I would call that lucky."
His optimism was infectious and I found myself smiling back for a moment, before the doubts crowded back in.
"How will we rejoin the others?" I asked, staring up towards the sky. The Fellowship was up there somewhere, no doubt mourning our deaths. "We cannot climb up to them, certainly. And we fell a long way, they will not spot us."
I did not bother to add that we could, in theory, attempt to continue on to Mordor, just the two of us. While we certainly could attempt it, we had no supplies at all, as well as being injured. We would certainly die, even if we somehow made it off the mountain. Our best chance of survival depended on rejoining the Fellowship, and we both knew it.
Legolas hummed softly in agreement. "This is true." He sighed, shifting in discomfort. "If I know Aragorn and Mithrandir as well as I think, then I believe they will retreat from this fractious mountain and seek for another path. They should manage to descend to the beginning of the pass in about a day or so; longer if another storm hinders them. We are much lower than they, so we ought to be able to make it to the beginning of the mountain pass about the time they do, even moving slowly."
That seemed overly optimistic but I did not openly contradict him. "What if they leave without us?" I pressed instead.
Legolas thought for a moment before replying. "There is not much they can do. You have the Ring - you do still have it? Good. - and therefore the Quest is stalled until they find us. Mithrandir will likely take Masters Samwise, Peregrin and Meriadoc back to Rivendell to seek for Elrond's aid in locating us. His sons, Elladan and Elrohir, know these mountains quite well. Aragorn will remain here and search for us, possibly with the help of Boromir and the Dwarf, though I do not know the latter two well enough to predict their behaviour accurately."
I stared at him for a moment, stunned. Barring the Council of Elrond, this was by far the most I'd ever heard him speak at any one time. It was unusual to say the least, but truly drove home the fact that we were, for the most part, almost complete strangers. Neither of us were really to blame for this, we were very different people. Until now, I had spent most of my time with my cousins and Sam and he had been busy conferring with Aragorn, scouting or hunting. We had never been alone together for any period of time and the Elf seemed to be not overly given to speaking much.
Nor was I these days.
"I do not think even Gandalf could convince Sam to leave without me," I said, smiling a little. I was rewarded with a gentle Elven laugh, which unfortunately, turned almost immediately to a pained cough.
"Will you be able to manage?" I asked in concern. His ribs were broken, I remembered suddenly. Should we bandage your ribs? Or perhaps your head?"
"With what?" The Elf gave a wry smile, gesturing at the slope, barren of anything but snow and ice.
"You could use my cloak," I suggested. Legolas was shaking his head before I'd even finished speaking.
"Absolutely not. You would freeze to death without it." His eyes gleamed with a stubborn glint that seemed almost Tookish. I knew better than to argue with such a look.
"Maybe we should just wait here for the others to find us then." My arguments were weak, I knew, but I was leery of risking the mountain's dangers with Legolas so hurt. What if something attacked us? Legolas would only be able to use one hand and I was hardly what one could call a competent warrior, despite both Boromir and Aragorn's lessons on swordsmanship.
"We cannot afford to wait, Frodo," Legolas said gently. "I do not know how long Hobbits can go without food in such extreme conditions, but certainly it is not long enough for the others to find us. My injuries will also need proper tending to before then. I will heal quickly, which may work against me in the long run, if certain injuries heal wrongly."
He was right, of course and I knew it. But still, I could not help but worry.
"Always you doubt yourself, Frodo, despite every reason to the contrary." Legolas frowned, his expression puzzled, despite his firm tone. "You are far more capable than you think, he said. You survived the Morgul blade, and the Nazgûl, and this fall, you can certainly manage a small trek down the flanks. You are strong, that is why you are a Ringbearer."
His words had the right effect this time. I could feel a rising determination beginning to push aside my doubts in response to his compliment. Legolas grinned faintly, evidently seeing the resolve on my face.
"Let us be away then. We should not waste daylight while we have it."
Slowly, and with much effort, the Elf began to get to his feet as I destroyed last night's snow cave. We could not afford to leave it standing; it was too clear a sign to the wrong eyes that we had passed through here. By the time I was done, Legolas was upright at least, one hand resting on the mountain wall to support himself, his legs somewhat unsteady. It would be hard going for us both, far harder than it had been going up.
I would not complain, I swore to myself. I would not be a burden on Legolas. I had to make myself more useful.
Legolas sighed and looked up towards the sky, muttering to himself in Sindarin, too low for me to hear; the only word I caught was Elbereth. A prayer of sorts?
"Ai!" Legolas gave a cry of surprise, smiling. I stared at him, startled. "Look up, Master Baggins! An eagle!"
I squinted up at the sky, painfully bright and blue and caught sight of a faint blurry speck very high above up.
An eagle?
Keen indeed were the eyes of Elves if he could tell that was definitely an eagle.
Legolas clapped my shoulder, grinning, his tone encouraging. "It is a sign from the Rodyn; we have the approval of Aran Einior. Doubt no more, Master Frodo. Let us be off."
A.N: As the use of Quenya in Mirkwood was banned by Oropher, and that practice continued under Thranduil's reign, the Elves of Mirkwood referred to the Valar as the Rodyn, and had their own names for them; Aran Einior is their name for Manwë.
See you all on Thursday for the next chapter! As always, reviews and faves are heartily appreciated, and I'm always up for answering questions about the fic, or indeed just to chat about Elves.