Chapter ten: Let it go.
In the late afternoon, while the nine of us were finishing our breakfast, Gandalf and Aragorn went aside together and stood looking at Caradhras. When they came back, Company Gandalf spoke, and then we found out that it had been decided to face the weather and the high pass.
"From signs that we have seen lately," Gandalf began, "I fear that the Redhorn Gate may be watched; and also I have doubts of the weather that is coming up behind. Snow may come. We must go with all the speed that we can. Even so it will take us more than two marches before we reach the top of the pass. Dark will come early this evening. We must leave as soon as you can get ready."
"I will add a word of advice, if I may." Boromir said, stepping between Gimli and Pippin to approach the others. "I was born under the shadow of the White Mountains and know something of journeys in the high places. We shall meet bitter cold, if no worse, before we come down on the other side. It will not help us to keep so secret that we are frozen to death. When we leave here, where there are still a few trees and bushes, each of us should carry a faggot of wood, as large as he or she can bear."
"And Bill could take a bit more, couldn't you lad?" Sam said as the pony looked at him mournfully but determined.
"Very well, we will bring the wood." Gandalf allowed with a sharp nod, waving a finger at the Gondorian. "But we must not use it, not unless it is a choice between fire and death."
Laboriously we climbed a sharp slope and halted for a moment at the top to catch our breath and rest our feet and legs. I flinched as something cold and wet fell onto my face. Frodo must have felt it too, as he put out his arm and I saw the dim white flakes of snow settling on his sleeve. Regardless of the snow fall, we carried on, but before long the snow was falling fast, filling all the air, and swirling into our eyes so fast that the dark shapes of Gandalf and Aragorn could hardly be seen.
"I don't like this at all." Hobbit Sam panted, only a step behind me. "Snow's all right on a fine morning, but I like to be in bed while it's falling. I wish this lot would go off to Hobbiton! Folk might welcome it there." He complained as up ahead, Gandalf paused, little drifts settled on his shoulders and hat rim, he was standing in ankle deep snow.
"This is what I feared." He proclaimed, turning to look at the Ranger with a grim smirk. "What do you say now, Aragorn?"
"That I feared it too." Aragorn answered. "But less than other things. I knew the risk of snow, though it seldom comes down this heavily so far south, save high up in the mountains. But we are not high yet; we are still far down, where the paths are usually open all the winter." Shivering, I wrapped my arms around myself, grateful for my raincoat now, offering a little more protection than the cloaks everyone else had; at least my raincoat wouldn't soak through from the snow as it had with the rain.
"I wonder if this is a contrivance of the Enemy." Boromir muttered suspiciously as Sam and I nodded to each other, trying to keep warm. "They say in my land that he can govern the storms in the Mountains of Shadow that stand upon the borders of Mordor. He has strange powers and many allies."
"His arm has grown long indeed." Gimli sniggered. "If he can draw snow down from the North to trouble us here three hundred leagues away."
"His arm has grown long." Sam grumbled as Legolas looked around with wide eyes, as if seeing this dark presence Boromir had suspected. And he was right, the wind and snow had stopped while we were waiting about, indecisive, but now that we were on the move again, oh boy. With the fury of a crackhead in a Belgian border bathroom, the snow and window became and blizzard that even Boromir and Gimli couldn't plant themselves against; the Hobbits were taking the brunt of the cold, since they didn't wear shoes and their trousers cut off just below the knee. Stopping in my tracks, I waited in Sam's footsteps for Pippin, who had fallen behind.
"Walk in Sam's footsteps, he's got enormous feet." I suggested and he looked over, seeing the shuffling footprints Sam had left. Pippin scurried on ahead and spread the word to his fellow Hobbits. One by one, the Fellowship came to a stop, eerie noises echoed around in the darkness as we huddled closer to Gandalf, every now and then, a dull rumble would carry howling laughter to us on the wind, stones whistling over our heads or falling to our feet.
"We cannot go further tonight." Boromir panted; face red and hands shaking from the cold. "Let those who will call it the wind but there are fell voices on the air and these stones are aimed at us."
"I do call it the wind." Aragorn snapped, rubbing his hands together. "But that does not make what you say untrue. There are many evil and unfriendly things in the world that have little love for those that go on two legs, and yet are not in league with Sauron, but have purposes of their own. Some have been in this world longer than he."
"Caradhras was called the Cruel, and had an ill name." Gimli said while shaking his head. "Long years ago, when rumour of Sauron had not been heard in these lands."
"I'm not sure it matters who we're fighting if we can't beat them." Sam added and Gandalf nodded.
"But what can we do?" Pippin cried miserably, leaning on Merry and Frodo and they were all shivering, even poor fat Hobbit Sam, who had a little more insulation than the other three.
"Either we stop where we are or we go all the way back." I stuttered, trying to keep some of myself warm. "It's no use pushing on through this lark."
"Only a little higher, if I remember rightly, this path leaves the cliff and runs into a wide shallow trough at the bottom of a long hard slope. We should have no shelter there from snow, or stones or anything else." Gandalf muttered, to himself more than us as Aragorn nodded.
"It is no good going back while the storm holds." He agreed with me at least. "We have passed no place on the way up that offered more shelter than this cliff-wall we are under now."
"Shelter," Hobbit Sam muttered, 'if this is shelter, then one wall and no roof make a house."
We huddled close like penguins, under the cliff, which at least faced south and should have given some cover from the wind, stones and snow…but no, no, the snow fell denser and the wind howled bitter…bitter-er? I don't know. On their own, the Hobbits would have been buried after an hour or so of huddling there, partially shielded by Bill the Pony; beside me, Hobbit Sam began to nod, Frodo already asleep on his shoulder, I let him sleep, seeing that Sam was laden with both Merry and Pippin, snoring soundly. I decided to try and follow the example of the small folk and closed my eyes, wondering how nice it would be to sleep as a pile of ash inside the sun. When I woke up though, Sam was still slumped against me, snoring as Boromir lifted Frodo off the ground and out of a nest of snow, dusting him down gently.
"This will be the death of the Halflings, Gandalf." He said softly, getting the snow from Frodo's hair. "It is useless to sit here until the snow goes over our heads. We must do something to save ourselves. What do you say to fire?" Boromir asked suddenly. "The choice seems near now between fire and death, Gandalf. Doubtless we shall be hidden from all unfriendly eyes when the snow has covered us, but that will not help us."
"You may make a fire, if you can." Gandalf answered gloomily. "If there are any watchers that can endure this storm, then they can see us, fire or no." But though we had brought wood and kindlings on Boromir's orders, no flames could catch because of the swirling wind or wet fuel. At last reluctantly Gandalf himself lent us a hand in the matter; picking up a small bundle of twigs he held it aloft for a moment and then with a word of command, a great spout of green and blue flame sprang out and the wood flared and sputtered. "If there are any to see, then I at least am revealed to them, I have written Gandalf is here in signs that all can read from Rivendell to the mouths of Anduin.'
