Chapter 10: Icy Winds
"…So every year on Christmas, this guy would fly around in his sleigh with twelve reindeer and deliver presents to all the kids. Or all the Christian kids, I guess. And he allegedly kept a list of kids who were good or bad, and all the bad kids would get coal instead of presents."
Frodo raised an eyebrow at Quinn. "This was a legend in your world?"
They'd reached the upper part of the Pass of Caradhras, and walking through what felt like endless snow had caused Quinn to reminisce on some holidays from her old life.
"Oh, yeah. And most kids believe it's true until about ten or so. I found out the truth when I was pretty young because my friends and I got caught shoplifting by a mall Santa. He started cursing us out, so my friend Joey kicked him in the leg and he knocked over a rack of Christmas cards, and the dollar store owner came over and started wrestling him…that shattered the illusion pretty quickly."
Frodo laughed. "And what happened to you and your friends?"
"We all high-tailed it out of there. I think the only reason we didn't get into trouble is because the store owner was fighting Santa." She grinned. "Man, those were the days. What about you? You ever have a shoplifting phase?"
"Well…when I was young, Merry, Pippin, and I used to sneak into Farmer Maggot's garden and steal mushrooms."
"Wow. I would've expected that from Merry and Pippin, but I didn't know you had a criminal past."
"Those days are long behind me now," Frodo said, though he still wore a slightly nostalgic smile.
Quinn grumbled slightly as her foot sank almost knee-high into a snowdrift. It wasn't snowing anymore, but the previous day had left a thick enough layer to be slightly unpredictable in places. "Well, it's never too late to start up again. Did I ever tell you about the crazy pony heist Nori and I pulled off in Dunland?"
"I don't believe you have."
"Oh, this is a good one. We were originally trying to convince this guy to—"
Frodo gasped, and she turned in time to see the snow slide out from under his feet and send him tumbling a little ways down the slope. He hit another drift and stopped.
"Oh shit, are you okay?" Quinn snorted. "Sorry, it's not funny. Seriously, are you okay?"
"Frodo!" Sam hurried past her and went to help him up.
"I'm all right." Frodo accepted Sam's hand and stood up. "I just lost my footing, there." He brushed some snow from his clothing. His hand moved against his collar, and he froze. "The Ring."
"Did you lose it, Mister Frodo?" Sam asked.
"Uh oh." Quinn started down the slope, searching the snow. "Maybe you should keep that thing in your pocket, or something."
The others, who had stopped after Frodo had slipped, went to join them. Soon they were all searching through the snow.
"Stupid Ring," Quinn kicked at a pile of snow. "I mean, if we just left it here and went home, how bad would that be?"
"I have it."
They all turned to Boromir. He straightened, holding the Ring by the chain that usually went around Frodo's neck.
"Boromir," Aragorn said, a hint of a warning in his tone.
"It is a strange fate," Boromir said, his eyes trained on the Ring, "that we should suffer so much fear and doubt over so small a thing." His other hand drifted upwards, as if he was about to touch it. "Such a little thing."
Oh, shit. Quinn glanced at the others, who were all watching Boromir with various expressions of worry and fear. Aragorn's hand was on his sword, out of Boromir's view. We're not supposed to be fighting over this thing. Worst case scenario, I punt it over the side of the mountain and we call it a day.
"Boromir!" Aragorn said, more sharply this time. That finally seemed to shake Boromir out of whatever trance he'd been in, and he looked up. "Give the Ring to Frodo."
Frodo was watching the exchange with a tight jaw. His hands twitched at his sides, as though he didn't know what to do with them. Sam stood at his shoulder, fixing Boromir with a defensive glare.
"As you wish." Boromir descended the slope, the Ring outstretched before him. As soon as it was in reach, Frodo snatched it out of his grip and shoved it in his pocket. "I care not." He gave an awkward chuckle and reached out to ruffle Frodo's hair.
Sam's scowl deepened, and Quinn cringed slightly. She'd learned early on that touching a hobbit's hair like that was a big no-no.
Aragorn took his hand from his sword as Boromir turned and continued climbing the slope. Gradually, the others began moving as well.
What the fuck was that?
Quinn shook off the tension and waited for Frodo and Sam to catch up. "You okay? Maybe we should get you a pair of snow shoes."
"I'm fine," Frodo said, looking distracted.
"Hobbits don't wear shoes," Sam said. "Why would we need ones for the snow?"
"So your ass doesn't fall." Quinn reached over to help him over a slippery patch. "They're not really shoes. They look more like tennis rackets, to be honest. Or, uh…flat baskets, I guess. They keep your feet from sinking into the snow."
"Well, hopefully we won't need those. We'll be out of these mountains soon enough. Right, Mister Frodo?"
"I certainly hope so," Frodo said. After a while, he moved ahead to walk with the others, leaving the two of them in the rear.
"Hey, Sam, can I ask you a question?"
"All right. What is it?"
"Why do you call Frodo 'Mister?' Isn't he your friend?"
Sam nodded. "It's just a matter of respect. I'm his gardener, see, so it's only proper I refer to him that way. But we're still good friends."
"Okay." Quinn tilted her head. "So, like Batman and Alfred."
"Who?"
"Eh, never mind. Let's go catch up with the others." She turned to him. "On second thought, I could totally tell you some Batman stories once we set up camp."
Toven was beginning to realize he was not dressed for the weather.
Their second day in the pass, another snowstorm had descended upon them. It had continued for hours, and now they were struggling through snowdrifts up to their knees. Quinn was in front, carving a path through the snow, while the hobbits huddled together in the middle of the group, and Legolas brought up the rear to make sure no one was left behind.
Biting back a curse, Toven drew his cloak tighter around himself. The cold had seeped through his boots and his gloves, and the wind kept blowing his hood back. He was fairly sure he'd lost feeling in his ears.
Once, he'd briefly seen a group of Snowmen in Forochel. They'd looked strange, in their thick clothing made of fur and animal skin, but he suspected now that they would have been far more comfortable than him in this kind of weather.
"We must find shelter!" Boromir shouted over the wind. "Or this storm will bury us alive!"
Toven wasn't sure how they were going to do that. They were hugging the cliffside on the upper end of a snowy slope, but there hadn't been so much as a crack in the rock so far. The best they'd been able to do last night had been huddling against the cliff face and trying to avoid the wind. If there was a better place to take shelter, they wouldn't know until they were almost upon it—and with the sun setting, their luck would only get worse.
"We have to press on," Aragorn responded. "We are exposed to the wind, here."
"I've had enough of this!" Gimli dug his axe into the snow and began shoveling it away with the flat of the blade.
The rest of the group drifted towards him, watching the proceedings with various degrees of confusion.
"What, are we gonna dig our way to shelter?" Quinn asked. "I think that might take a while." But she stooped down to help away, scooping away snow with her hands.
Eventually, Gimli's axe struck something hard, and he exclaimed in triumph. He laid his axe down, took off his glove, and pressed one hand against the dark patch of stone beneath the snow. Toven grinned, finally catching on.
"What on earth is he doing?" Boromir asked.
"Dwarves have stone sense." Toven glanced at him. "He can see the shape of the mountain, including any openings. He might be able to find us a cave."
After a minute or so, Gimli straightened and shook some snow from his hand. He slipped his glove back on and turned downhill. "This way, lads!"
Toven caught a doubtful frown on Legolas's face, but eventually everyone began trailing after the dwarf. The winds grew stronger as they moved away from the cliff, and he winced as snow pelted the side of his face.
Gimli had better be right about this cave.
They dropped down a steep slope and stopped in front of what appeared to be nothing more than a mound of snow. Gimli used his axe to brush some of it away, and Quinn stepped forward to help. After a few minutes, their efforts revealed a dark shape beneath—a narrow cave opening.
It was just wide enough for the pony to fit through. The cave was fairly narrow, around ten feet wide, and stretched backwards into the shadows. Everyone let out a sigh of relief as they stepped inside. It was cold, enough that their breath clouded the air, but they were out of the wind.
Toven took the bundle of wood from his pack and set it down. "I'm starting a fire. Any objections?"
"Let's check the rest of the cave first, see that it's clear." Aragorn took a piece of wood from his own pack and tied a cloth around it to make a torch. He and Legolas began walking towards the back of the cave.
Quinn flexed her hands with a wince. "God, it is fucking cold. I'm actually considering lighting myself on fire."
Toven knelt down and began arranging the wood. "You know, a cloak might help."
She leaned against the cave wall. "Yeah, but I lose them faster than I can get a new one. I don't have much use for them anyway, unless I want to make a dramatic Jedi entrance at some point." She rolled her shoulders and straightened up. "I'm gonna go check on the others. See if they got eaten by a bear or not."
Quinn headed towards the back of the cave. The hobbits were kneeling in a circle, taking stock of their food. Gimli was kicking the wall to knock the snow off his boots. Gandalf was standing at the entrance of the cave, watching the swirling blizzard. Toven wasn't sure what he was looking for, but at least he was blocking some of the wind.
"Here." Boromir stepped forward, handing him some of the dry brush they'd saved for kindling.
Toven grunted a thanks and began arranging it in his fire. "You had the right idea with this."
It had been Boromir's suggestion to bring wood with them up the pass. They'd avoided lighting fires to keep their whereabouts a secret, but he'd reasoned that stealth wouldn't mean much if they were all frozen to death.
Boromir slung his shield from his back and set it against the cave wall, then sat next to him. "Well, this isn't the first time a snowstorm has driven me into a cave."
"No?" Toven took out his flint. "I was under the impression Gondor enjoyed relatively gentle winters."
"I was up in the White Mountains. They bear snow year round."
Toven finally produced a spark, and the kindling began to smoke. He blew on it gently, and soon a small flame was flickering on the floor of the cave.
Aragorn, Legolas, and Quinn returned from the back of the cave.
"It's clear," Aragorn said. "The tunnel goes further, but it's been caved in."
"What about the floor?" Quinn tapped the stone with her boot. "I got jumped by goblins once with a trap cave floor."
"It's solid as far as I can tell," Gimli said. "If any goblins come to bother us, we can throw them into the storm. See how they like that!"
Toven sat down and held his hands over the fire with a sigh of relief. He glanced at Boromir. "So, why were you in the White Mountains?"
"I was on a hunting trip. But it turned into something else entirely before I left."
The hobbits joined them around the fire, while the others set about repairing equipment and getting ready for sleep. Quinn tossed him a packet of travel bread.
Toven settled back against the wall. The cave was growing warmer, and the exertions of the day were beginning to take their toll on him. "I sense a story coming."
"I was following a trail I'd used before. Just before night fell, I came upon an abandoned tent in the trees. It had been cut open from the inside, and—"
"This isn't a ghost story, is it?" Quinn interrupted, crossing her arms. "Because normally I love those, but we're kind of stuck in a creepy cave in the middle of a deadly snowstorm. If we're gonna be hearing about wendigos ripping people apart, I'd rather do it three piña coladas deep on a tropical island."
Sam turned to look at her. "Wendigos?"
"It's… You know what? I'll tell you once the weather gets above freezing."
"We should all get some rest, "Aragorn said. "If the weather permits, we'll reach the highest point of the pass tomorrow." He shot a brief, almost apprehensive glance at Boromir before turning away.
Clearly he hadn't forgotten the incident with the Ring. There hadn't been much to do about it, since they'd been more preoccupied with battling the snow, but Toven could feel a measure of tension creeping through the confined space of the cave. There wasn't supposed to be discord among their group, not with the enemies they were facing.
He shot a quick glance at Boromir, who was tending to the fire. He sincerely hoped Elrond had chosen well in appointing the members of their Fellowship.
Quinn brushed a layer of snow from her face with a growl. "I swear to god, I'm going to invest in some fucking windshield wipers."
They'd gotten about an hour of clear weather after leaving the cave the next morning before the skies opened up on them again. It had taken them half the day to reach the highest point of the pass, and now they were all struggling along a narrow path on the side of a cliff, fighting through waist-high snow.
She didn't want to admit it to the others, but she was starting to get a little worried. The snow that landed on her didn't melt, and every once in a while she would have to clear off her face and hands to keep herself from being partially buried. She had to keep moving constantly, or she was afraid she'd actually freeze and they'd have to carry her stiff body down the mountain.
She turned to Pippin, who was walking behind her. The distance between them had grown since the last time she'd checked. "You doing okay back there?"
"I'm all right," he replied, pulling his hood forward to cover more of his face. "My legs are a little tired."
"You want me to carry you for a little?" She squatted down and motioned for him to climb onto her back.
"Thanks." He wrapped his arms around her neck, and she took hold of his legs and stood up.
Quinn let out a sigh of relief. "Oh, that actually feels a lot better. You're like a really warm backpack."
"And you're ice cold!"
"Don't worry about me." She glanced back at him. "Is it uncomfortable?"
"Well, I doubt I could get any warmer at the moment…"
"Hey," Merry said from behind them. "Why does Pippin get to be carried?"
"Because I only have one back," Quinn said as she started walking again. "Unless you want to hold onto my front or something. Or you could ask one of the big strong men to help you out."
A cracking noise sounded from above. They all looked up in time to see several chunks of rock break off the side of the mountain and plummet towards the path, right where they were all standing.
"Oh, shit!" Quinn dropped Pippin from her back, and drew her sword. They'd had a glimpse of the sun for about fifteen minutes yesterday, and she'd saved up a charge on her sword just in case. She swung it in a vertical arc in line with the falling rocks, and several of them broke into smaller pieces. They all ducked against the cliffside as stone pelted the snow and tumbled off the path. "Jesus, what the hell was that? Are there stone giants in these mountains?"
"There is a fell voice on the air!" Legolas called from the front. His footsteps were light enough that he could easily walk on the topmost layer of snow, which Quinn thought was kind of a rude flex in front of the rest of them.
She turned back to see Merry helping Pippin to his feet. "You good?" she asked. "Sorry about dropping you like that."
"Better than being crushed by falling rocks," Merry said as the two of them huddled together. "I-Is there some magic at work here?"
Quinn looked out into the open air and focused her hearing. It was barely audible over the howling wind, but she could hear snatches of a deep voice speaking an unknown language.
"It's Saruman!" Gandalf cried.
"Well, I guess that explains that," she muttered. "That son of a bitch."
Gandalf raised his staff and began chanting in the same language. She guessed he was trying to fight against Saruman's magic, but the storm didn't seem to be getting any better.
The clouds darkened overhead, turning almost black. Another sharp crack sounded as a lightning bolt struck the cliff above them. The whole mountain seemed to shake as a rumbling noise filled the air, and a white mass appeared above them.
"Oh, dicks," Quinn said just before an avalanche of snow crashed into them.
She tried to duck against the wall, but the force of the snow hit her like a river current, and she felt herself sliding towards the edge. She didn't have time to grab onto anything, or to look for the others, before she was tumbling through open air, surrounded by a shifting mass of white.
When she finally hit he ground, she immediately started rolling, fast enough that she wondered if she was going to turn into some kind of cartoon snowball. She couldn't tell which way was up, and by the time she registered the rock hurtling towards her head, it had already struck her, and everything went black.
I don't know if anyone got the Tolkien nerd joke but I refuse to let it go unnoticed so I'm explaining it here. So Quinn compares Frodo and Sam to Batman and Alfred respectively. However, their relationship was inspired by Tolkien's WWI experiences, in which some officers would have a personal servant…which was known as a batman. So Sam is actually the Batman in this scenario!
*silence from the audience*
Anyway…
The story Boromir was going to tell is inspired by the Dyatlov Pass incident, which is super creepy and interesting and one of my favorite unsolved cases. Maybe I'll have him finish telling it at some point.