Disclaimer: I don't own The Lord of the Rings or any of its characters. I only own Leûra, Aearion, Undûme, Cassiopeia, Balanidhren, Aefaradien and any other original characters – so no stealing. However, I don't own Cuiviénen. That place belongs to J. R. R. Tolkien, but the stories of it in Chapter 1 and 2 are all mine.
Chapter 9: The Path of Caradhras
Our new path in the long journey takes us far into the snowy frigid north. I've never seen snow; I didn't even know what it was until the Hobbits explained it to me. Even though I'm chilled to the bone, I've grown fond of the snow. So much so that I even threw some at Gimli. He was furious but he kept quiet, whereas the Hobbits had a good loud laugh. I noted that the others chuckled under their breath at the Dwarf's misfortune and my success. But, our small joy was short-lived as our bodies grew numb and shivered under the winds.
While climbing up the mountain pass, noises arose from the back. We stop and look back to see what had happened, we discover Frodo has tripped and fallen backwards. Luckily, Aragorn catches him and helps him to his feet. Frodo begins to check himself, not a scratch on the boy remarkably, but he soon panicks. My heart jumps to my throat. Where is the Ring? Valar, it must have fallen off when he tumbled down the pass!
I immediately start to head down to help them look for it when I spot Boromir. He has the Ring, holding it at eye length by its chain; he gazes at it in a trance of sorts. Never in my life have I seen such an act, especially not by a man, over a piece of jewelry. But, I know what the Ring is capable of and I believe my distrust of Boromir is within good reason. After a small threat from Aragorn, he returns the Ring to Frodo and chuckles before he starts to walk up hill again, ruffling Frodo's hair.
My worry about Boromir doesn't leave me. I stare at him, scowl and wait for his next move.
A storm soon brews at the mountain. It was so sudden and now the snow is at our waists! Trying to cross the mountain while the bitter winds blow and more snow piles onto us, it is not an easy task. I am shivering and my teeth are chattering and I notice Gimli grumbling about Elves. I'm confused until I look down; I'm walking ontop of the snow! So is Legolas! I guess that has to do with our unique ability as light steppers; everyone else is trudging.
Wait. What is that sound?
A voice? Yes, it is a voice, carried in the winds. It echoes through the mountain valley. I can hear Gimli grumbling about Legolas and I walking ontop of the snow as the ellon passes him. He must hear the voice as well for he is walking in the direction I sense it is coming from. I stop next to Aragorn, who is carrying Sam and Frodo against the wind; Boromir is doing the same for Merry and Pippin.
The voice is louder. Thundering almost. I can't ignore it. It hurts my ears, makes them ache even more than the cold does. I walk past Gandalf to stand beside Legolas, listening to the wind circulating around us.
"Cuiva nwalca carnirassë nai yarvaxëa rasselya!"
Quenya! I know that tongue anywhere! It was first developed in my home, by my ancestors, before they encountered the Vala Oromë!
"Only a wicked soul could speak such in our tongue!" I shout over the wind to Legolas on my right.
"There is a fell voice on the air!" he shouts back to Gandalf.
"It's Saruman!"
A disturbing cracking comes from above us and, upon looking up, I see a large chunk of the icy mountain fall towards us. Leaning against the mountain to avoid it, I see we are all lucky and avoided being hit, but this Saruman continues to chant his spell. Aragorn advises Gandalf that our enemy is trying to bring the mountain down upon us, and that we should turn back.
"No!" Gandalf raises himself on the snow so he is positioned like Legolas and I. I watch and shiver as he begins to chant a counter spell. "Losto Caradhras, sedho, hodo, nuitho i'ruith!"
"Cuiva nwalca carnirasse; nai yarvaxea rasselya; taltuva notto-carinnar!"
A bolt of lightning suddenly strikes the mountain, causing more rocks to come tumbling down. We all lean against the mountain again, but I am not so lucky this time. I do not know about the others, but I am completely buried under the snow. I don't know who came out first; all I know is that I am pulled to the surface with a gasping breath and see Legolas. His pale skin almost glows an unhealthy blue as he squints to see through the blizzard.
"Sut naa lle?" he asks.
I nod, shaking his hands off of me and rise to my feet on my own. I don't need his help. I look around and see Aragorn behind me, pulling Frodo and Sam to their feet. Legolas had, thankfully, left my side, to pull Gimli up and Boromir had a good hold of Merry and Pippin. Gandalf was the last to rise. I suppose he is not as strong as I thought.
"We must get off the mountain!" Boromir points out, stating the already obvious. He seems to do that a lot. "Make for the Gap of Rohan and take the West Road to my city!"
"The Gap of Rohan takes us too close to Isengard!" Aragorn argues over the wind.
Isengard? The city of the White Wizard? He's our enemy, too? Is this Saruman I keep hearing about the White Wizard? He must be, if he is the one that cast the spells to bring down the mountain. I did not know this. How is this even possible? I suppose the will of Sauron stretches to even the most powerful beings of good.
"If we cannot pass over a mountain, let us go under it!" Gimli suggests yet again. "Let us go through the Mines of Moria!" Gandalf gazes at Gimli with fear in his eyes, I note, as he tries to think of an excuse to avoid Moria at all costs.
"Let the Ring-bearer decide. Frodo?" Frodo looks up at Gandalf, then at the rest of us. This one decision could affect the rest of our journey. For better or worse, he doesn't know, but he has to make a choice. If he doesn't, we'll never hear the end of Gimli's complaints and we'll continue to freeze to death.
"We'll go through the mines." I watch Gandalf stiffen and pause for a moment before agreeing, albeit reluctantly. I honestly think he doesn't want to go anywhere near Moria. It looks as though I am not the only one in the Fellowship with a secret.
Translations:
Cuiva nwalca carnirassë nai yarvaxëa rasselya: Wake up cruel Redhorn! May your horn be bloodstained!
Losto Caradhras, sedho, hodo, nuitho i'ruith: Sleep Caradhras, be still, lie still, hold your wrath
Cuiva nwalca carnirasse; nai yarvaxea rasselya; taltuva notto-carinnar: Wake up cruel Redhorn! May your bloodstained horn fall upon enemy heads!
Sut naa lle: How are you?
P.S.: Three pages total.
