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Jackie sighed as she marched toward the looming mountains, blocking out the setting sun as they grew nearer to its rocky incline. It had been decided that morning that they would be taking the treacherous mountain pass, but between that and Moria the pass through the mountain was like a Sunday picnic. The rest of the company was walking beside her in varying stages of glumness and fatigue. Only Legolas, Gandalf and Herself seemed to have at least some sense of what they just avoided by surpassing Moria, although even she had to admit that she had no clue what was down there, save for a bad feeling, a dark feeling that raced through her immortal body at the thought of entering the mines. Gimli -of course- was devastated and had been grumbling, scowling, glaring and all in all scaring the shit out of anyone who dared meet the brooding dwarfs eye.
"Gimli, stop being a big fat goat turd." She said bluntly to the dwarf, quickening her pace to keep up with the almost jog the dwarf was doing.
"I'm not-"
"You are, you are being the biggest goat turd I have ever seen. Pull yourself together you overgrown lump of coal."
"But-"
"You can be a sad and depressed wet towel in your own time, the hobbits have enough on their plates without you making them think you're going to embed your axe in their backs, we all do."
Legolas continued to listen in on the elleth and the dwarfs conversation, fighting to keep a straight face as the dwarf tried weekly to plead his case to the persistent elf. Since Moria had been narrowly avoided the dwarf had been in bad spirits, it was rather funny that he threw a temper tantrum over such a small thing. Even he, who had no clue about what lay in the Mines of Moria had sensed the presence of Gandalf changing whenever traveling there was broached, his ancient scent ringing with a tang of fear that was normally never present. Even Dornessiti's scent, usually one of snow, pine and fresh wind had a leak of fear twine into it at the mention of going through Moria.
After she had fallen asleep on his lap she had carried her back to her roll, not after sitting there with her head on his lap until the end of his shift on watch. He had ignored the Gondorian when he offered to carry Dornessiti back to her tent, still annoyed at the man. He had the gall to just brush the incident at the fire away, he didn't even apologise. Legolas glared at the man as they began their trek upward the mountain. As if sensing his stare the man turned his gaze toward the elf. Legolas dropped it and resumed eavesdropping on the elf and dwarf. Ahead Gandalf pulled to a stop, his grey robes billowing around his body.
"We stop here." And that was that.
As soon as the pack was off his back Gimli began to charge at Dornessiti. Legolas just watched as the dwarf yelled; "Welcome to PAIN TIME with a dwarf! Starring YOU! Ye bug faced thumb suckin' chunk O' bat spit!" he sighed dwarves were so debassing, and their manner of speaking-
"Try ta' miss me when ye keel over ye bug brained gold stealin' stink on legs!" She yelled in return.
The fight lasted about 30 seconds before Aragorn stepped in to break the tussling pair up. Dornessiti's outfit was tousled and dusted. No longer did she wear clothing of leisure, in fact she had donated all the useless finery and shirts she had discovered stuffed in her bags courtesy of Lady Arwen to Aragorn and the hobbits for hunting, rope weaving and the like. Now she had only her traveling clothes, or suit. It was the one thing that Arwen had gifted her that Dornessiti had not thrown out, and Legolas had almost stumbled when he saw it on her for the first time. To his male satisfaction Boromir had. It was a form fitting midnight black suit with hidden blades up the sleeves, slicing outward whenever she wished with a flick of her wrists. The suit hugged her figure closely, the only thing that saved it from being a downright sin in the eyes of men - to the humans, elves would just find her daring or intriguing- was the mock corset-thing that covered the expanse of her stomach and chest, once again in blacks and greys with intricate designs all along it. Thigh high boots went with the outfit, leather and strong along with gloves to match and a onyx cloak and hood. She looked like death incarnate, the daughter of the devil, or just sin in a woman's body.
The snow was falling like the ash once did around the lonely mountain, heavy, thick, never-ending and cold. When the Crebian from Dunland passed over their heads they had known that they needed to act fast, and get through the mountains as soon as they could. Obviously that plan was failing. Only herself and the Mirkwood prince could move atop the snow and through the mountain with ease, walking lightly through the snow while the rest of the party grumbled and froze as they fought against every inch of snow that landed on the icey earth before them.
"The Hobbits must be carried, Gandalf! Look at them, they're blue!" She shouted over the roaring wind that raged without stop around them, making it almost impossible to hear for any being that did not have heightened hearing.
Gandalf nodded grimly, nodding to the taller occupants of the company. Merry and Pippin were hoisted onto Legolas's back, Sam was dropped onto Boromir's without ceremony and she carefully lifted the freezing Frodo into her arms, cradling the child sized hobbit in her arms for a few seconds, allowing the warmth of her body to seep into his, before sifting him onto her back. They had gone forward only a few steps when Frodo began shivering again. The hobbit plastered himself to her back, desperate for any form of warmth. Yes he was out of the snow, but he now braved the falling flurries, the cold in the air and the howling winds, which the snow -though cold- had offered a blockade against. She unbuckled the mini clasp on her left shoulder that kept her warm, fur lined cloak attached to her suit, set Frodo on the ground, brung her cloak corner to the right hand shoulder and placed the hobbit on her back once more. When he was again comfortably situated, or as comfortable as one could get on someones back as they froze their ass off she pulled her cloak back over to the left hand side and rebuckled it, now with Frodo between her back on the cloak, keeping Frodo not only warm from the protection the cloak had to offer but her body heat as well. She caught up with the rest of the party before they even made it seven feet away.
"T-Thank you. For the cloak." The thawing hobbit shivered right beside her ear.
"No problem Frodo." She replied as she moved herself to march behind Gimli, the stubborn dwarf having refused any offer of being carried through the dense white snow.
"Erm, Miss Dornessiti, you're from Fangorn Forest, right?"
"Yes Frodo."
"Is it true that there are trees as tall as the moon there?" He asked, animation swiftly returning to his voice, all thoughts of cold having fallen from his body at the prospect of learning more about the mystery that was Fangorn Forest.
She chuckled softly. "I supposed there could be, even I haven't explored everywhere in the forest, and I never asked."
"Asked who?"
"The trees of course."
That sparked another question, "And do the trees walk?"
"Yes, But only a few. One of my good friends is a tree shepherd. He looks a lot like a tree himself, though he's an Ent. He goes by the name Treebeard. Although he's rather hard to talk to. All the Ents are." She smiled at the memories of the great forest, and chuckled of those when she had made the naive choice to ask Treebeard questions, and the painstaking answer afterward that sometimes lasted days on end.
"I don't really understand." Frodo stated honestly.
"It's somewhat of an inside joke Frodo, you'd have to know an Ent to understand. One day I will take you to my home forest and you will see what I mean."
She could sense the Hobbit's smile, but before he could reply to her the Prince of Mirkwood cut in.
"Fangorn is not your home forest Miss Dornessiti," He said, poking fun at the title Frodo had used.
The Gondorian chimed in. "Even I can hear the Mirkwood accent in your speech."
"I was not raised there." Was all she said. She did not need to explain herself.
"What do you mean?" Boromir kept pushing. Legolas just watched the encounter, curious to how it would play out.
"I was born in Mirkwood yes but when I was four my small village near the edge of the forest was ransacked by Orc riders. My adoptive father found me days later, and raised me in his home as one of his own." She would not hide this time. She would not tuck her dwarvish uprining in a small box and lock it tight. But they must ask. An inner part of negotiated, the part that was bullied and beaten during her first years as a Mirkwood sentry after having asked why dwarves were so bad, the part that knew how cruel the world could be if you were different. They must ask to know how you were raised, who raised, where you were raised. They must ask. She agreed.
And of course Boromir was too stubborn to back down for his own good. "Who was your adoptive father?"
"Thrain, King Under the Mountain." She could feel the shock emanating of people in waves. Legolas most of all was staring at her like she had grown a second head. Screw this. "I was raised Under the Mountain until my fiftieth year when I left to Mirkwood and became…" She glanced at the gobsmacked prince. SCREW THIS. "Became a sentry of the royal household." She could have sworn The Prince of Mirkwood took a step back.
Fuck.
At that moment an avalanche of snow made its way down the mountain. Right. Toward. Them.
Double Fuck.
The world was made of pearly white's and shining silvers of all shades, the rays of olden sunlight she was sure existed somewhere in the world had vanished. Or maybe they had never existed in the first place. Just a dream she had made in her icy cocoon. The world was cold too. Very very cold. Finger biting and bone numbing. Maybe her skin would turn a pretty glacier blue and she could be the Queen of Cold. Or princess of Ice. Princess. She was a princess once, or maybe that was just another dream. Probably. There was only cold in this world, cold and ice and snow and- fire there was fire to. Her parents used to dance around the fire. That was the last thing they did, dance around the fire. The riders had brought the fire that night, her parents and the rest of the village had danced around it. But they wouldn't let her dance. Not that night. They had forced her under the bush. She found her parents in the morning though. She thought they were sleeping. They didn't wake up.
The little boy beneath her wasn't waking up either. When the cold came she had shoved him under her. She had done that before. Shove someone under her. A long time ago. When rock was falling from the ceiling and the snake with wings and fire was destroying her home. She had survived then. But it hadn't been cold, it had been hot- hot and heavy and hard, or maybe that was a dream too. This was real though, this was cold and heavy and soft, this was all there was in the world. She hoped the child could wake up. Then he could be the cold prince with her, she could have him as a family, a little brother. She always wanted a little brother. She had some in her dream, a family, a little brother, a little sister, she was a princess in that dream. She had scars in that dream too. Princesses with pointy ears aren't supposed to have scars. Thinking of dreams made her hurt. She smiled. She should get ready for her big entrance, all the snowflakes will love their new Snow Queen, she could stay with the snow and the ice and the cold forever. When her skin began to turn blue, she just smiled, happy to join the snowflakes at last.
Legolas was the first to pull himself out of the snow. He had been so shocked at what Dornessiti had said that he did nothing when the wave of white hit them. Now is no time for that. He chastised himself. There will be time for answers later. He pulled Merry and Pippin out from the snow, then went searching for Aragorn. He dug around until he found the ranger's head, brushed the snow off it and then went searching once more, knowing the man could handle it from there. Instead he went searching for Dornessiti. He unearthed her several feet beneath the snow, wrapped around Frodo, she probably used her body as a human shield as the snow fell. He moved a chattering Frodo into the arms of Aragorn, who had unburied himself and all of the others.
Gently he lifted the frozen Dornessiti out of the snow, his heart going as cold as the cruel landscape around him when he saw the pale shade of icey blue that had replaced her buttermilk skin. He cradled her into his chest and she whimpered, a small sound he had never heard escape her mouth. "We must go back, Gandalf. There is a fell voice in the air."
"It's Saruman." The wizard replied grimly, shaking the last of the snow off of his hat.
As if in answer the wind howled, Aragorn yelled over the din. "He's trying to bring down the mountain, Gandalf! We must go back"
"NO!" The wizard cried, raising his staff in the air. The rest of the fellowship just moved closer together, at least one or two of them probably questioning the sorcerer's mental stability. "Losto Caradhras, sedho, hodo, nuitho I ruith. Sleep Caradhras, be still, lie still, hold your wrath."
All of his chanting did nothing as a second wave of snow crashed and the voice of Saruman grew louder still. The fellowship hugged the wall and Legolas himself -shifting the female elf in his arms- pulled the wizard out of the upcoming wave of cold.
"We must get off the mountain! Make for the gap of Rohan and take the West road to my city." Boromir said urgently.
"The Gap of Rohan takes us too close to Isengard." Aragorn argued.
"We cannot pass over the mountain. Let us go under it. Let us go through the mines of Moria." Gimli intervened. Legolas glanced at Gandalf as he tucked Dornessiti closer to his body and pulled the side of his cloak over her small, frozen figure. She was shivering just as hard as the hobbits. The wizard had a concerned look on his face.
"Let the ring bearer decide." Was all the magic user said. Frodo glanced up, still wrapped inside Dornessiti's cloak, which was probably the reason she was shivering so bad. He looked at Dornessiti with sorrow when he realised just how badly she was frozen and how warm he was thanks to her. Then shifted his eyes to Merry and Pippin who were shivering just as badly in the arms of Boromir.
"Frodo?" Dornessiti whispered, her voice ragged. "I will-" She coughed. "I will f-follow y-you no m-matt-ter y-your ch-choice." Legolas held her closer.
Her proclamation seemed to break the hobbit. "We will go through the mines."
Gandalf slowly nodded. "So be it."
Legolas was still carrying Dornessiti when they reached the narrow dark strip of land covered in slimy seaweed green slime that back onto the edge of an equally dark lake. She has stopped shivering a few hours ago, only occasionally did shivers rack through her body. Her skin was still cold to the touch but it had returned to its soft buttermilk shade, and as she slowly became warmer and warmer -pressing herself against his figure in doing so- he became more and more aware of her outfit, the black bodysuit from before. And what it was doing to him. As soon as she got better he would ask her his questions. She was -she had been- a sentry for the royal family at Mirkwood! And she was raised by dwarves. Under a Mountain. By their King. By the Valar…
A large powder white moon shone as it climbed upward steady and slow over the mountains. The lines along the border of the dwarven door grew broader and clearer, forming a glowing arch of interlacing ancient letters and symbols, glowing softly in the moonlight. He had to admit for dwarven work it was … beautiful.
Gandalf stared at the door before speaking "It reads, "The door of Durin, Lord of Moria. Speak, friend, and enter."
"What do you suppose that means?" One of the hobbit's- Merry asked.
"It's quite simple. If you are a friend, speak the password and the doors will open." The wizard stated confidently. "Annon edhellen, edro hi ammen!"
A strong gust of powerful cold wind blasted through the area and Dornessiti shivered in his arms. The Gondorian scoffed, his eyes taking in Dornessiti's figure with pure male entitlement. He growled, low in his throat, letting the human man -never male- know to back the fuck off. Boromir just rolled his eyes, but turned the other way all the same. Why did he care? Why did he go tense when any of the fellowship aside from the old man looked at her? He glanced at elleth in his arms, her eyes still shut tight, still pressed against his chest, still wrapped in his cloak, still carried bridal style in his arms. Gosh what had become of him? Was he fussing? He could always blame it on his instincts of course. That was probably it anyway, the need in every elven male to protect and defend those unable to do so for themselves, the impulse to shelter and care for those too weak.
She shivered again and he pulled her tighter still to his body. Shit. I am in deep, unrelenting shit.
"Ando Eldarinwa a lasta quettanya, Fenda Casarinwa!" She giggled, such a funny saying. Gate of Elves listen to my word, Threshold of Dwarves!
She did not feel cold anymore. Just numb. She wasn't with the snowflakes. She- she couldn't remember her own name… Maybe I don't have a name. Maybe I can be snowqueen for the rest of my life.
She felt heat carrying her though, burning the cold and snowflakes away. A strong, unrelenting pillar of heat and warmth and fire and strength and- sadness, fire and sadness. The pillar wasn't sad though, the pillar made her sad. Because she knew this incarnation of heat. Didn't she?
Legolas just stood bemused as Sam said a teary goodbye to the donkey, Gandalf lost his temper, Merry began to chuck stones at the water and Pippin tried to follow suit before Aragorn stopped him. Dornessiti had been mumbling about snowflakes and fire balls for a solid twenty minutes now and the elven door was beginning to get on his nerves.
"Do not disturb the water." He heard Aragorn murmur.
An exasperated Gandalf cried out, his voice booming in the still silence the fellowship had lapsed into. "Oh it's useless!"
Frodo stood. "It's a riddle. Speak "friend" and enter. What's the elvish word for friend?"
Mellon.
"Jackie, going there is punishable by death!"
"Quiet!" He heard Jackie hiss. "I have to figure this out, something is happening Tauriel, darkness is returning to Mirkwood. The ravens are returning to the lonely mountain!"
"Is this about the Lonely Mountain? Because if it is it is not worth losing your life over!"
"It's not about that! But if it was it would be worth it. It would be and nothing you can say will change that!" He could picture her trying to calm down. "You have never been outside of Mirkwood, you do not know or understand the beauty of the outside world. Besides, even if I don't go I may be kicked out."
"What do you mean?"
"I may have had a slight disagreement with the prince this morning."
"WHAT!" All the other elves, including the prince turned to look at them. Cursing Tauriel in her head for her big mouth she waited for everyone to turn around before responding
"It was about my past Tauriel, you are the only elf I trust with it. I will not tell the prince! It's almost the same as telling the king and he hates dwarves with a passion."
"Fine, but don't change the subject, if you're going to Dol Guldur I am too."
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
"Yes."
"NO."
"YES."
"Fuck you, fine."
A small smirk appeared on Tauriel's face. "I knew you'd give in."
"Very mature, I only gave in because I don't want attention, and wipe that smirk off your face."
"I am your Mellon Jackie, like it or not I will look out for you, it's what friends do.
Flashes. Always flashes. He assumed that they were dreams because he never experienced them. Dreams that always seemed so real. They were alway about her.
But she was a guard at Mistward, she said so herself, I could have known her, could have seen her, could have overheard her conversations. I am a prince, I do not remember every name of every elf I have ever met. He reminded himself.
"NO, NOOOOOOOOOOOO!" The dwarf's cry pierced his wonderings.
He took in the entrance of the tomb. The dark smell wafting from the mines. The fallen dwarf corpses littering the cavern. The crude ugly obsidian black arrows that sprouted from many chests around the self made tomb. "Goblins." He stated dryly.
Aragorn, Bormomir and himself pulled out their swords, he shifted Dornessit in his other arm.
"We make for the gap of Rohan, we should never have come here!" Boromir cred.
The water rippled out of the corner of his vision, no…
"Now get out of here, get out!" The Gondorian tried again.
Frodo was grabbed from behind and dragged toward the inky black water of the lake by a long, slimey, fleshy pale pink coloured tentacle. Shit.
Sam -curse that little hobbit- ran toward the arm and began hacking at it. He set Dornessit on the ground and ran to the aid of the foolish Hobbit. He watched in horror as the creature of the dark depths feigned the release of Frodo only to have ten times the amount of tentacles rise from the shining surface of the lake.
"Into the mines!" Gandalf yelled, and one by one the fellowship followed. He loosed an arrow toward the beast's eye, his aim straight and true.
Boromir picked up a slowly reviving Dornessit as they rushed into the death trap they called a mine.
"We now have but one choice. We must face the long dark of Moria. Be on your guard. There are older and fouler things than orcs in the deep places of the world." Gandalf spoke softly as if not to disturb the dark around them.
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