Hi. :)

No real comments on this one except for thank you's to my reviewers - Gaslight, Demetra, Blackmusasabi, Pontenigra, Summer, ShadowDmn, Valinor, DDEC, and Circe le Fey. Thanks you guys! You all keep me going, whether you know it or not! :)

And as always, an extra special thanks to my ever wonderful beta Karla! :D

Please review and enjoy! :)


"So I really slept through the whole thing?" Vivienne questioned, her tone a mixture of humour, surprise, and a hint of embarrassment.

"Yes, Ma'am," Sam replied. "And you're lucky, too! I wouldn't have minded missin' all that, that's for sure!"

"It was really that bad?" she asked, fear evident in her voice.

"Almost as bad as when we were attacked by those riders," Sam replied anxiously. "Except this time we were a lot luckier. Without Mister Aragorn and Mister Boromir they would have eaten us for dinner!"

"Oh come on, I doubt they were that good," she replied, unable to hide the scepticism that laced her voice.

Whether it was denial, or simple naïveté due to the previously sheltered existence of her life, she was truly unable to comprehend the danger and gravity of the situation, and the fear that was felt by all.

"Oh yes, Ma'am! Near brilliant, they were!" Sam replied, his face lighting up as he began to gush. "Of course, Mister Gandalf did some nice ol' pieces of magic an all, and the others helped, but you should have seen the other two! Swishing and slashing! I've never seen anything like it, I'll tell ya that much! I wish my old Gaffer had a seen it! He won't believe me when I tell him, I'll swear to that!"

Apparently hero worship was not something Sam had in short supply.

Vivienne shivered again, this time a little less violently than before, but no matter how hard she tried, she could not manage to shake the cold chill that had settled within her bones.

"We were real worried about you, too! You should have seen Boromir and Aragorn! They were near terrified you wouldn't last the night!"

"Boromir was worried?"

Vivienne couldn't help but raise her eyebrows at Sam's confession. She highly doubted that Boromir gave a damn about what happened to her.

'He probably just didn't want to deal with the others if he let me die,' she thought childishly, and almost instantly regretting it.

Even in the back of her mind, jaded towards the man as she was, she did not feel that Boromir was that brutal or malicious; to her, he was just an arrogant ass.

Before she had a chance to respond, she was overcome once more with a violent fit of coughing, and nearly doubled over on the ground where she sat, in her effort to control it.

The nearest of the company looked around, concern evident upon their faces. While she had improved a great deal, it was obvious they still continued to fear for her.

She sat up again slowly, her breathing coming heavily and with great difficulty; her throat felt achingly dry and sore, and her head hurt, not helped by the constant sniffling or terrible headache.

What she wouldn't give for a bottle of aspirin right about now.

Aragorn walked over to her silently, put his hand on her forehead, and gazed at her intently. This was not the first time he had done so since Vivienne had awakened, and as a result she was little disturbed by the ranger's actions or slightly troubled expression. She knew she was sick, but she felt a little better than she had a few hours ago; certainly better than she had last night.

"So, what's up, Doc?" she shot out, as a half-hearted attempt at humour.

She doubted Aragorn would get the joke, but with the way she felt, even feeble attempts at anything meant an improvement. Now more than ever she wanted to be safe and sound back home, curled up in blankets on her big, comfy bed. Little else in the world felt better to her than cocooning herself in a warm bed on a cold day – especially when she felt as dreadful as she did now.

She tried desperately to push aside the thought of hot chicken noodle soup. She had never been a big fan of it before, but it was amazing all the things you realized you had taken advantage of before, when suddenly they were gone. She wished she would have known that a little sooner – it would make every slice of pizza and every can of Coke taste just that much better.

Aragorn gave her a mild look of confusion before deciding to ignore her queer statement completely. Apparently he wasn't in a joking mood.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like shit," she answered.

His stern look gave her clear warning and a definite push of an elaboration.

"Fine," she replied, sighing exhaustedly. "My head hurts, my throat hurts, my nose is burning, I can't breathe – could eat, but the food tastes like sh - awful, so I think I'll pass – I'm tired, cold, sore and homesick. Better?"

"For me, though perhaps not so much for you," he replied, giving her a small, playful smile - a smile that she gladly returned.

"So what's the verdict?"

Aragorn easily ignored her usual, strange speech pattern, and continued to inspect her closely. Vivienne was beginning to feel extremely uncomfortable with someone this close inside her space, and was very consciously aware of the fact that she had not brushed her teeth in quite a while.

"Hey, ever hear of a personal bubble?"

"Hmm?" he questioned, more for her benefit than his, she was sure. It didn't take a genius to figure out how adept he was becoming at ignoring her.

"It seems as if you are improving," he answered after a few more long, uncomfortable moments, finally removing his eyes from their close inspection of her face. "Though I still think it wise that you continue resting. You are nowhere near back to your previous condition."

"Seriously?" she replied, groaning loudly.

She sighed, long and hard before quietly confessing to the ranger "... I just want to go home."

"Get some rest. We will be moving on soon," he replied with a definite finality to his tone; he was allowing her no more room for argument.

Aragorn pulled the cover up even more tightly around her from where she sat laying back against another large snow bank. Most of the company sat leaning against them, they weren't very hard to find – indeed, sometimes it felt as if the entire mountain was one great snow bank.

"Where are we going?" she questioned him tiredly, snuggling up further within the thick sleeping bag.

Again, she was glad it for its comforting warmth and subtle reminder of home, and of real civilization.

"The company has yet to decide," he answered.

"Okay..." she said sleepily, her eyes drooping shut. "Wake me up when we get there, though," she managed to mumble out, before finally succumbing to the call of sleep.

Aragorn chuckled softly before standing up and brushing the snow off of himself. Smiling down at her with good humour, he turned back towards the group that had gathered, still deep in discussion. Their journey was from over, and the biggest decision still remained – where they would go from here.


"For the last time, we cannot stay on this mountain!" Boromir fumed, his voice rising to nearly a yell. "It will be the death of the little ones!"

"But what other choice do we have? To go through Moria?" Aragorn said angrily.

"If necessary, yes," Gandalf replied. "Whatever evils once lingered there may well have left long ago – there is no proof of them; and what if Gimli is correct and Balin has indeed become the Lord of Moria? Then we will be risking our lives on this mountain for nothing!"

"But there is no proof he succeeded!" Aragorn raged. "Indeed, there is no proof Balin is still even alive!"

Long had members of the company fought about their next path, and no agreement had yet come close to being reached. All were in attendance, some quieter in their opinions than others, save for three of the hobbits and the girl. Sam, Merry and Pippin were busy preparing breakfast and were bothered little by the argument, and the girl was still sound asleep. Boromir noted that although she still looked perched on the brink of death, some colour had returned to her cheeks, and she had managed to stay awake for a few hours this morning. Hopefully they would not be forced to carry her down.

"I still say there is no need to take either path! Let us take the pass of Rohan!" Boromir spoke up for what had felt like the hundredth time on the matter. "Théoden will aid us! The men of Rohan are strong and proud – they do not pay tribute to Sauron, mark my words - no matter what your tainted sources may say!"

Though Gandalf brought word that the horse-lords were aligned with the Dark Lord, Boromir refused to hear any of it. The men of Rohan would not bend so easily – most especially when it was their steeds that were the price. If there was any doubt in Boromir's mind in the veracity of Gandalf's claims, they were immediately dashed when he mentioned the extent of their tribute. The people of Rohan guarded their horses almost as dear as their kin – they would not offer them in service to the Dark Lord, even if their lives paid the forfeit.

"Enough!" Aragorn exclaimed loudly. "We must decide a path before noon! We will not survive another night on Caradhras! The small ones especially! We must choose!"

Silence followed almost immediately, as the company weighed the options in their mind.

"Let the Ring-Bearer decide," Gimli said loudly, puffing at his pipe after some consideration.

"Me?" Frodo questioned, his voice small and timid, surprised at being called upon.

"Why not you? We're here because of the blasted thing you carry – this should be your choice." Gimli replied. "Risk the Mines of Moria, or spend another night here, and freeze to death on this mountain!"

Another long moment of silence followed as Frodo weighed the decision carefully.

Finally he spoke up, "Let us take the Mines. It seems there is little other choice."

Boromir did not miss the gleam of triumph in the old wizard's eyes. He had known him too long not to. Long ago had Mithrandir - or Gandalf as he preferred to be called among the company - come to his city and spoken with his father, rummaging the vast library of the Stewards in search for things unknown.

His brother was fond of him, that he also knew. He spoke highly of him often, much to the malcontent of their father, ashamed at having a wizard's pupil for a son, but Boromir had seen little harm in it. Indeed, with some effort, he could even understand Faramir's appeal for it all. Books and lore had always fascinated his younger brother, and he had always found every opportunity available to revel in them.

Perhaps Boromir himself could have even learned to love it – had not his attentions been forced elsewhere from such a young age. He was the son of Denethor, heir to the Stewardship of Gondor, and forced from birth to understand, and to earn that right. Defending his people was of the highest importance, and he was forced to learn that with it came the highest of prices – the price of blood. And all of his he would spill, to see his people safe and content once more in their city, free to live their lives as they pleased, and not under the constant fear and shadow of the mountain.

"Then it is decided," Gandalf spoke, putting an end to the matter once and for all. "We go through the Mines of Moria."

Few in the company were appeased.


"Pip, is it just me, or do you have no idea how we're supposed to get down there?" Merry asked, as the company readied themselves to continue on their journey. "I don't know about you, but my legs aren't long enough to walk through that!" he said, motioning to the wall of snow that had piled around their camp in every direction.

The difficulties of the hobbits had thus far gone unnoticed, and for the first time since their decision to leave Caradhras, they were utterly perplexed.

"Perhaps if Gandalf would go first and melt the snow in our path, we might make an easier time of it," Legolas said, gesturing towards to path off the mountain.

"And perhaps if Elves could fly, you could go and bring us the sun!" Gandalf responded grumpily. "If there is wood, I can light a fire, but I cannot burn air!"

"Very well," Boromir replied loudly. "As we say in Gondor, 'when minds fail, strong bodies must make do'. We will clear a path through the snow for the little ones. I will do it – Aragorn as well, if he will help me."

"That I will - you are right. There is no other way," Aragorn replied.

Vivienne sat watching from her place in the snow drift as Boromir and Aragorn began trudging along, pushing against the snow. She highly doubted that it would work, and was fairly sceptical that it would be that simple to get off of the mountain. Even if they did clear a path, she had no idea how she would make it; she might not admit it out loud, but she doubted she would be able to stand, let alone walk more than ten feet with the way she felt.

Within minutes they had pushed a large path through the snow – Aragorn behind, and Boromir in the lead. While Aragorn was taller, easily reaching six and a half overwhelming feet, he was also thinner - more wiry than muscular. Boromir on the other hand, only an inch or two shorter, and still reaching far above her in height, was much more muscular and powerful in his build - both heavily set and strong; soon they were far out of sight as the path curved around the bend of the mountain.

"Well, I'm off!" Legolas exclaimed cheerily after a few minutes silence, a bright smile still on his merry face. Throughout the entire ordeal on this accursed mountain, he was the only one to remain light of heart, and it seemed at times as though all this misery had no effect on him. Vivienne wasn't sure whether this was due to his Elvish nature, or simply his optimistic outlook; he remained unchanged nonetheless.

"And where are you off to, now?" Sam questioned, his hands on his hips and his eyebrows raised, seeming as though he were berating a young child for their foolishness instead of questioning a powerful Elven prince.

"To go see how our big strong men are faring!" he called out, as he easily hopped above the giant pile of snow, and began to run across. "Farewell! I go to find the sun!"

"Is it just me, or do you totally wish you could do that?" Vivienne asked, looking over towards Merry and Pippin.

"Mm-hmm," they both said in unison, nodding vigorously in response.


Long minutes passed as they continued to sit in silence, watching the blank whiteness – the only thing that surrounded them for miles.

"So, maybe I missed it, but how exactly did they say we're going to get down?" she questioned, turning to the hobbits. She had already spent enough time eyeing the path doubtfully. It was hard enough before – it would be near impossible for her now.

"Likely, we will have to carry you," a deep and annoyingly cheerful voice said from beside her, causing her to jump in surprise.

She turned her head to find that Boromir and Aragorn had returned, covered in snow and weary, but cheerful at their accomplishment.

'Oh, hell no,' she thought silently.

She continued to look at Boromir – the owner of the unwelcome merry voice.

There was no way in hell she was going to be carried, especially by that man.

'No – way – in – helllll!'


Oh, and as for summers comments, thank you for checking out my videos, i'm glad you like them! :) and i use windows movie maker. it came installed on my computer, so i dont know if you have to buy it or not. sorry, i wish i could be of more help! but again, thanks for checking them out, and i'm glad you liked them! the king arthur one i think it my favorite! i just think that song has always fitted them so well! :)