A/N: Hey, it's Reala here…I just finished typing this after so long…geez, been a while, eh? Well not quite, Lindi just posted. Thank you all for your reviews! They are very much appreciated, and Lindi and I are really starting to pump these chapters out. Woot! Later ^_~

Chapter Eight: Of Retreating Prey

The time drowned with their voices in the howling of the winds, and when the sun slowly began to retire behind the distant hills into nothing more than an orange glow they had reached the far off cave Legolas had spoke of hours earlier. It could not even be called a cave, rightly, because it was in truth just a hollow in the mountain where the snow had not touched; but it was dry, and it kept the wind from biting them as hard as it did when they trudged through the endless piles of snow.

Eddies of snow threatened the entrance as the eleven companions wearily dragged inside their belongings, as well themselves, and moved hastily into the far back of the hollow to huddle against it for warmth. Samwise was first to open his pack with trembling bare hands, and shakily pulled out four or five large pieces of dry wood that he had collected before starting to the mountain trail, and Gandalf commended him for this. After the feverish manipulating of two sticks and a moderate level of cursing, plus a bit of reluctant help from Gandalf, Sam had a lapping yellow and orange fire going, and the Fellowship greatly appreciated the warmth, though not everyone voiced it.

"You see? The cave is ten times better than the mountain." Lindi spoke breathlessly and her tone was bleak, despite how she smiled to convey an optimistic attitude, especially so the Hobbits would not see her act as miserable as she really was. Her clothing was beginning to dampen because of the melting snow, and one little fire was just not warm enough. Eventually, however, the warmth filtered throughout the entire hollow. Still, many of them still huddled together despite this.

"Sam," Boromir spoke from somewhere against the back of the cave wall with his strong arms crossed about his chest in an attempt to conserve his body heat. Aragorn was beside him, and though it was clear that the men were sharing the heat from their bodies, they both tried their best to act as if they were not. "Are you ready to cook, now?"

The hobbit came back from the cave's entrance with his large pot filled with snow and set it over the fire to melt and boil, looking up briefly to acknowledge Boromir's query. "Yes, is there anything specific you would like to request, Mr. Boromir?"

"Something hot and solid would do nicely, if you please." Aragorn put in with a polite smile on his sharp features; he was far to weary and hungry to start teasing Sam now. Gandalf remained at the cave's entrance, looking out to the swirling, clashing snow and winds that awaited them when next they set out. He said over his shoulder firmly,

"Samwise Gamgee, it is very cold and we are all very hungry. Make haste."

"Yes, Mr. Gandalf."

"The Halflings certainly owe you their thanks, Boromir," When the captain heard the words he repressed a shudder and turned to face Ranger, regarding him silently in the quiet of the cave – a few sounds of Sam's bustling was all that disturbed the chilled air. Aragorn continued, "It was good of you to cart them over the passes."

"Is it not what I volunteered to do as part of joining this quest?" Boromir let his head rest against the cold rock behind him and exhaled hard through his nose, still keeping his eyes on the fire as the shadows of the wandering company danced on the surrounding grey walls. "They owe me no thanks, Aragorn, for if I were in their shoes and they were in mine they would have done the same for me."

"I suppose they would," Aragorn said with a slight laugh, pulling his cloak tighter around his lithely muscled frame and then locking his jaw in a firm pout as his thoughts traveled elsewhere, to less pleasant landscapes and times and events. "The little ones look up to you."

"As well as you."

"Nay, they see me as Strider still." Aragorn's voice was in not nearly as dry and disinterested as Boromir's was – he was trying to make some sort of connection with the other man, knowing how important trust and agreeing on the common goal was. He felt Boromir had a good and noble heart, and the noblest of intentions, but he feared for him. The bitterness Boromir held toward the ranger because of the higher bloodline would in no way bear fruit of any kind, and Aragorn wished to eradicate it. "I was not focusing on first impressions when I met them."

 "Nor was I." Boromir said flatly, and did not bother to meet the eyes of his comrade. First impressions had not been an issue when Boromir had first laid eyes on Aragorn – he had been very polite and offered friendship, but at the council when he had discovered the wanderer's true identity he wished that he had been firm, and bold. Not friendly. Aragorn knew this, and fell silent after Boromir's last comment, which made the Steward's son, somewhere deep inside, stir with faint guilt. Boromir was stubborn and refused to admit to himself how he would have liked the ranger's friendship.

The hour passed and by the end of it Samwise had filled Elven deep-scooped bowls with a thick hot stew made with greens, potatoes and carrots, as well as nearly the last of their salted meat. Peregrin Took was hunched greedily over his loot, gorging himself in the third of his three meager meals of the day, while Merry shamelessly did the same, along with Sam. Reala sat with her legs crossed under her, and though her stomach growled in vicious hunger, she picked and poked at the stew's contents before eating it.

Boromir, as if to contradict her in everyway possible, ate quickly and hungrily like a starving animal but managed to keep his dignity (unlike a certain Hobbit everyone knew). Lindi drained her bowl of broth and swallowed gratefully, casting a kind look in Sam's direction.

"That was delicious!"

"Thank you," Sam beamed with pride and squared his shoulders. "I've always been quite the cook, if I do say so myself, miss Lindi."

"Samwise, you have truly outdone yourself." Gandalf smiled at him and set his bowl down upon finishing, then propped his old body back onto the surface of one of the rocks and wrapped his grey cloaks about his body protectively to thwart off the remaining cold. Pippin offered no compliment but a slurp of his bowl and a request for seconds. The hobbit cracked a wide smile as more stew was poured into the wooden dish and he towed his new treasure back into a corner with more avarice than before. The wizard snorted and rolled his eyes, but folded back into his thoughts.

"Slow down, you'll choke."

Pippin had been so avidly consuming his second helping of supper that he had not noticed Lindi come and sit next to him; her voice startled him so that he nearly leapt from his skin and swallowed his food with so much difficultly it was a wonder he did not choke! "Lindi!" he scolded, eyes the size of Sam's cooking pots. "You need to make more noise when you walk!"

"You have my apologies, but I was making more noise than your average human," Lindi's pale cold face broke into a smile as she teased him. "You were just too concentrated on your food. But next time I promise I will throw a rock at you, or something."

"Make sure you aim for my head."

"Oh, I will."

Pippin wrinkled his nose in playful distaste and once again crouched over his bowl and continued spooning the stew quickly and hungrily into his mouth while he watched Lindi suspiciously all at once. The girl of Imladris had carted her dinner over when she had come to sit with him, and ate hers slowly and politely as possible while trying not to laugh at the halfling. When the silence was broken and the two of them finished their meal Pippin slammed his bowl onto the cave floor and shouted, "I win!"

Gandalf looked over to see what the ruckus was about and gave Pippin a harsh command to be quiet as a mouse and a deep scowl before turning back to try to sleep. Lindi laughed silently into her gloved hand at Pippin's reaction.

"If you had told me it was a race I would have won." Lindi straightened herself and inched back to the wall so she could easily wrap her large wool cloak around her body when the chill returned. She arched a brow sardonically at the halfling. "I'll have my rematch, Peregrin Took."

"Well now you sound like Boromir," Pippin accused delightfully, and stood tall to intimidate her. "But then again I always beat Boromir – "

"No, you don't." Boromir contradicted from across the cave, and Aragorn laughed from beside him.

"Alright, well, maybe sometimes he won – "

"All the time."

"We hear you, Captain!" Lindi said, shooing Boromir away, and the man rolled his eyes but turned back to talking with Aragorn, the girl turned back to Pippin. "So it is agreed then? The battle will commence tomorrow at breakfast?"

Pippin held a hand out boldly. "It's a challenge."

Lindi shook his hand. "Good. Now what?" She glanced around the cave and took in the sight of her companions trying to sleep and lowered her voice, brushing her long pale hair, still flecked with snowflakes and bits of ice, behind her ears. "I think we should try to sleep. Get some rest. We have a big day tomorrow, you know."

"I know." Pippin settled down beside her with his green jacket buttoned up and his blankets bundled around him, and he curled his legs curled beneath it. "I wish I could go huddle by Bill. He's warm and it's so freezing in here, despite the fire."

"Yes, I know. It is very cold. Makes me uneasy." Lindi said thickly in a trembling voice, tucking her chin so that her hair obscured her face. "Do you know any good stories?"

"I cannot think of anything in this cold!" Pippin replied, and as if to prove his point, a cold burst of air blasted into the cavern and made the fire roar and struggle to keep burning, destroying it's warmth with harsh retribution. The wind left as quickly as it had come, and the company, though startled and shaken, said nothing and continued their attempt to rest. Pippin, eyes wide and body tremoring under the new cold, shifted into his blankets and whispered, "Can you?"

"No. I wish I could." Lindi's cheekbones were tinged a bright pink from the toil of the winter wind of Caradhras' madness, and her voice was low and breathless as if she thought lifting it would provoke the mountain further. Pippin moved his eyes to the ground and blinked several times to clear away the chill the wind had left on them.

"Me too." He as well had lowered his voice. "Well…I mean I have a few stories from when I was growing up in the Shire, but they are not funny. They make me sound like a child, not a hobbit about to come of age."

"How long until you come of age?" She inquired in a lighter tone, and it lifted Pippin's spirits. He replied with the shining pride of a Took,

"Five years."

"Ah." Lindi awarded him with an approving nod. "Of course childhood stories make us seem like children, but Pippin, that does not mean you are not grown-up." Lindi's cold, fair face broke into a wide smile. "You are older than I am."

"Yes, well…" Pippin shrugged beneath his blankets and ducked down further in the creases of the comfortingly soft material. "Everyone sees me as a mischievous tom-fool. But I do try, Lindi. I try very hard to be brave on this quest – "

"And you are doing a splendid job. Pippin, just coming on this journey to aid your cousin in these dangerous and dark days makes you a hero on your own!" She interrupted him, and her whispering voice reminded him of a quiet breeze sweeping gently through the grasses and porches of the Shire's little villages on a warm summer day. "Anyone that decides to stay beside their friend through times both good and bad is just as valiant as someone like Aragorn."

Pippin exhaled sharply. "Gandalf does not think so."

Lindi hugged her arms around her chest and pressed her shoulder against him supportively. "He does, Pippin, he does." The girl's reassurance came from years of her own experience of being so young around folk so old and wise, and in her heart she ached for Pippin in his struggles. As the youngest of the traveling Fellowship, she felt she could relate to the hobbit, and in doing so felt for him. "But you must understand. Gandalf has so much on his mind – he daily balances our safety, the safety of the Ring and the bearer, and the fate of Middle Earth all on his shoulders. He does not always remember to tell you how proud of you he is."

"Do you really think he is proud of me?"

Lindi nodded and turned her head to the side, speaking through the wisps of steam that followed her words, "I see it in his eyes."

"Well somehow I don't believe you – "

"Peregrin Took, keep your voice down! Others around you are trying to get some much needed rest and your babbling is doing nothing to accommodate that!" Gandalf rumbled from where he was perched on the ledge he had picked out for his bed, scowling before pulling his head over his eyes once more. Pippin muttered an apology, then cast a skeptic look to Lindi.

"See?"

"Well you were being loud." Lindi scolded good naturedly, loosening her cloak and blankets enough to lie herself down upon the stone ground, angling her head onto her pack. "Now talking is over. We must do as Gandalf says and sleep."

"Oh, fine." The Hobbit followed her example.

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Lindi?"

"Yes?"

"Tomorrow at breakfast."

"Yes. Now sleep."

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

"Sleep tight, don't let – "

"Pippin, close your eyes and sleep."

"All right. Good – "

" – Night!"

The long hours of the night passed and the watches rotated. When Gandalf had been roused by Aragorn to take the fourth watch their whispers and the voices of the wind were shattered with misbeaten howls and shattering, mournful cries of the Dark Lord's servants. Gandalf came to his feet in a half seconds time, bare gnarled fingers gripping his staff defensively as he shot a look to the entrance of the cave and backed up. Aragorn's gray eyes were alarmed and wide, but he said nothing.

"What is it?" Frodo sat up straight and his blankets fell carelessly off of his body, his capacious blue eyes focused on the menacing open of the cave that left them vulnerable. "Are they wolves? Is that what I hear?"

"Dark minions, no doubt." Gandalf growled through his instantly shredded wall of sleep and ushering the slowly waking company to the back of the cave. "Prepare yourselves for battle, but do not attack unless attacked – if we may avoid confrontation then it is for the best."

"In the folly of these days a good night sleep is unheard of," Aragorn's voice was lost in the scurrying of the hobbits and Caradhras' vicious call, but Andúril sang as it slid from his sheath and he gripped it hard in both hands as he backed into the cave. Frodo clutched Merry's arm as the Brandybuck shakily looked from Boromir to Aragorn.

"What is going on?"

"I don't know for sure," Frodo replied distantly, drawing Sting and glancing back to the darkness beyond the walls of the cave fearfully. "Gandalf," he breathed as his cousins and gardener stood in guarding formation around him. "Gandalf says that wolves are lingering outside. We must leave before they realize we're here."

"I reckon they already know, Mr. Frodo," Sam jammed the last of his steel pots into his bag and drew the strings tightly before securing it on his back and drawing his sword. "Them birds we saw earlier probably told the wolves, and they're all coming to get us. What good is leaving?"

"It is better than staying here and having them attack us for sure." Frodo spoke quietly in the frigid silence of the cave where the company waited, holding their breath in anticipation. The howling grew louder, along with growls– they could not tell if the sound was the snapping and snarling of the wolves or the cackling of Caradhras at their misfortune.

Pippin reluctantly parted with his blanket as he stuffed it back into his bag, shaking with the newer, harsher cold and wishing more than ever that he were back in his bed at home. He pressed his lips, that he was sure were blue, together tightly to muffle the sound of his chattering teeth.

Over by the space he and Lindi had shared when they slept Gimli had already woke the girl up, and she, too, was quickly packing her things while readying her bow and attaching her quiver by a thick leather strap to her back that went across her chest and hooked at her hip. The others were scrambling as she was, while also standing defensively.

Boromir began to follow Gandalf's forward step when something that had been eating at his awareness finally struck, "Where is Reala?" he asked quickly, earning confused glances from the rest of the company. Legolas, however, ran on light feet to just outside the cave, where the wind was at it's hardest because of the resistance, and shielded his eyes with a long-fingered hand to see beyond the white blanket of snow.

In the whirling scene his keen eyes picked up Reala's dark form in all of the consuming white hate of the mountain side, sword drawn and glinting in the half-moon light that managed to break through the clouds. The black shapes of the beasts were creeping up the side of the hill over the snow, snapping and growling as they circled their prey.

"Reala!" Legolas cried out over the ruckus, but all for naught, for Reala was standing firm, even in the wind and the snow, and she could not hear him over it. "Reala, do not provoke them! Come back in here with us!"

The twenty or so wolves were approaching hungrily, and Reala heeded no calling back, whether or not she heard, and Legolas stepped out further, drawing an arrow expertly from his quiver and notching it into his bow. He waited, and waited, until the one wolf at the front of the pack leapt at Reala, then he let fly; the beast yelped and fell lifelessly to the ground with the arrow lodged in it's chest. It was then that Gandalf gave the order to move out.

"Follow me," He ordered, Glamdring in one hand and his staff in the other as he maneuvered out of the hollow in the rock face, calling over his shoulder, "Steer away from the onslaught, look not in their direction! We must evade them!"

Legolas shot at several more of the beasts while Gandalf lead the company to hold them off, his speed efficient and his aim perfect, despite the cold he felt sinking through his clothing. He waited for Bill and Sam, who took up the rear, to at last exit the trap of the three walls, and then called to Reala once more, "Reala, come!"

Boromir stopped his pursuit of the wizard's footsteps and, sword in hand, turned back to trudge down the line of travelers. "Let me," he said, pushing Aragorn back when the ranger began to follow him to aid his effort, and on his way to Reala he seized the elf's shoulder, shouting over the roar of chaos, "Go, I will take it from here!"

"See that you come back to us." Legolas ordered, lowering his bow and retreating back with the others. Boromir nodded at the elf as he left and as quickly as possible ploughed through the sea of white snow with his hand shielding his squinting eyes and his sword drawn. The wolves gathered around Reala seemed more hesitant than before after four of their pack members had been slain, and only watched and waited while Reala stood firm.

"You stupid thing, get back here!" Boromir shouted angrily, finally getting Reala to whirl her head and around and regard Boromir with wide, indignant eyes, her hair whipping to the side violently and her sword stained with only a tip of blood.

"No!" She snarled back, her pale features almost blending in with the weather. "I will not yield!"

"No, but you will die!" Boromir shot her a withering look and seized her arm with unforgiving fingers, yanking her from her stance and pulling her along. "Come, this is foolish, woman! Now run!"

"For the last time, no! You may run if you wish, but – " Reala's voice was abruptly cut off in an unearthly yelp when Boromir stooped briefly and captured her knees in a lock with his great arms, standing straight when he held her so that she fell over his shoulder like nothing more than a sack of potatoes. He began to take long strides in the snow that quickened as his legs grew accustomed to the force of the snow. "What are you doing?! Drop me this instant!" Reala hit Boromir between the shoulder blades with the hilt of her sword, but only connected with her current neighbor: the shield.

Boromir paid no heed and followed the Fellowship as they fled the scene, but the wolves regained their courage at the sight of retreating prey, and lashed out over the snow as if they were running on miles of open meadow with nothing but silken grass to hinder them. Aragorn shouted to Legolas and Lindi, who positioned themselves to briefly stop and try to pick off some of the wolves with their arrows. It did not avail the effort.

"What now, Gandalf?!" Pippin asked as they finally came to a stop, sword slicked with frost and snow clinging to his lashes as he looked to the towering Gandalf. "What now, what do we do, Gandalf?!"

"Defend yourself, young Took." The wizard replied grimly as he gazed ahead in anticipation, holding his staff out to the side. "I will do what I can, but you must be prepared to protect yourself and your cousin." Unexpectedly did Gandalf suddenly look down, and Pippin locked the gaze. Gandalf's brows rose. "Protect the Ringbearer. Can you do that, Pippin?"

Pippin boldly held his sword as Boromir had taught him and lifted his chin. "I will, Gandalf."

"Good." The wizard smiled and turned back to the coming wolves as the Fellowship lined up beside him. "Servants of the Dark One!" he shouted over the wind and growling of the enemy. "I warn you to turn back and leave us, or I will smite you and leave you to death and ruin! Turn back now, and avoid your destruction!" The wolves paid no heed, only growled and snapped and snarled as they stalked. Gandalf knew that outrunning the wolves was no option. They were far too fast, and Caradhras itself was against them and their effort. There was but one option left: to stand and fight. "Very well." Gandalf muttered, awaiting the attack. "Let it begin."

Boromir let Reala slide down his snow screened body and dropped her with no more than a second glance, readying his sword in his hand and twirling it over his finger expertly, narrowing his eyes against the assaulting winds and preparing to engage. Pippin, filled with the warmth of Gandalf's faith, took Merry's arm and stood firm with Sam in front of Frodo, swearing to himself that the Ringbearer would ride this battle unscathed.

Reala, after getting back up from the snow and stepping four paces closer to the enemy, could not help her gaze from traveling back to Frodo. Her dark hair whipped around her face and obscured her vision of anything else but the hobbit with Isildur's bane. The opportunity was perfect, flawless…the wind, the snow, the chaos – it would take days for the rest of the company to even find a start to her trail, and the Ring would finally be in her grasp –

"Enough, fool!" She snarled to herself, swiping the long wisps of hair from her dark eyes irritably and scowling against the cold. "There is no other way."

"What are you babbling on about?!" Boromir growled at her, edgy and nervous – too so to actually look at her. He knitted his brows and finally gave her a very brief snapping glance, "No other what?!"

"It is nothing." She hissed cruelly, in no mood to dispute anything with the Captain at the moment, and Reala called over to Gandalf, "Do we attack, or do we not?!"

Lindi waited for no signal, and released an arrow into the night, and then another, but no sound followed to prove she had hit home. She notched another arrow and bent her bow but hesitated to fire because she could not aim properly, or even see in the whirling white wall before her narrowed eyes. Her pale frosted brows knit in concentration, and she said to the companion beside her,

"Legolas, it is impossible! Do not waste your arrows!" Her words were contradicted by an arrow from the Prince's bow whizzing past her golden head and into one of the approaching beasts. Lindi stood amazed, and knew she should not have been, but said no more in reply.

"They will not go to waste." Said Legolas confidently after another of his arrows thudded into the chest of a wolf, and then another. Lindi pursed her lips and waited for a clear shot, though none were offered to her.

"Great shot, Legolas! Look, Pip old boy, he's pinning them one by one!" Merry cried with utter excitement as the Prince of Mirkwood claimed another life. There was a wail, low and eerie, and out of the darkness leapt several of the bolder wolves, and then warrior and beast began to clash. One of them tackled Merry and Pippin to the ground, and its companion threw Sam into the snow, while the largest made a pounce for Frodo. The hobbit positioned Sting for the kill but not in time to take action.

With the Ringbearer down the company fell into chaos, and the wolves breached the barricade of arrows.

"Frodo!" Gandalf cried, trying his utmost best to cut down the four wolves that plagued him to reach his friend. The wizard signaled to his companions after driving Glamdring hard into the throat of the nearest creature, shouting over the madness, "Go to Frodo! He is in need!"

Aragorn seized Gimli by the shoulder guard and tried his best to haul the Dwarf over to Frodo with him, but every time they got close enough the wolves attacked twice as fast and twice as hard. Aragorn was hip high in snow, and he worked tirelessly to cut down the opposing force of the wolves, slashing and stabbing until his sword was bathed in blood. But he could not reach Frodo. Lindi was cornered by several herself, and she was now reduced to her sword.

Gandalf struck one of the animals down with Glamdring in it's back, and continued to scramble for ideas. Frodo was still fending the wolf off, but he was alone – not entirely. Only a few feet from the hobbit was Reala, on her knees in the snow, staring wide eyed and dumbstruck at Frodo – whether or not she was frozen with fear, he did not know, but shouted, "Reala, get the Ringbearer, you foolish girl!"

Reala shot him a blank look and shook her head, moving her mouth but barely speaking above a whisper, "I can't…" She began but could not finish, and a million thoughts and cares and fears ran through her head /I can't do it if I do I'll take the ring…I can't/ \I have to\.

Reala seized her sword from the snow and cried out, tearing from her position and thrusting the blade into the open side of the wolf that tormented Frodo, and blood rained down upon her when she raked it back out from between it's ribs. The wolf turned on her this time, but she met it with a lucky strike to the side of its neck and decapitated it with one swift stroke.

The other wolves fell back when Reala, emitting steam from the blood on her clothing, seized the bloody carcass and tossed it aside with much effort, then yanked Frodo out of the snow and locked him protectively into her arms. He cried out in pain as she held him so tightly against her chest, but Frodo was thankful to be safe, and as Reala's grip tightened he was vaguely aware of Gandalf shouting, and then a bright burst of light slashed the scene. The wolves fled.