On the Threshold of Peril
Aranel; 2004
The Fellowship of the Ring trudged wearily over the rugged mountain landscape, all exhausted from the day's travel, save Legolas. The elf had remained light of step and energized throughout the day, thanks to his race's Eru-given strength and longevity. Most of the others would have been amazed at this (and possibly slightly envious) had they not been used to it by now. At length, Gandalf ordered a halt. The Hobbits and others were only too eager to unshoulder their packs and weapons. The clear night air refreshed the travelers, though Gimli found their resting spot too open and exposed for his pleasure. Being a dwarf, he would have preferred a cave, or at least a rock outcropping, to shelter them, but he kept his opinion to himself.
Legolas left the company as he often did to scout the terrain ahead. Slowly, night covered the land in shadow and the overcast sky offered no view of stars or moon (but the light diffused throughout the clouds to provide a slight glow that illuminated the landscape); yet the elf preferred it that way, for tonight the absence of light would provide much-needed concealment for their exposed camp. He stood perfectly still on the weatherworn ledge, looking northeast towards the foreboding mountains of Caradhras, occasionally sweeping his keen Elvish gaze over the rest of the surrounding land. A far off howl caught his attention and he strained to hear from whence it had come. Judging it at least a league away, he put to rest his fears. Wolves wouldn't be much of a nuisance to them anyway. No wolves would attack a large group of fully armed warriors, not unless they were rabid and had completely lost their wits. Legolas smiled. Or they wanted to see what hobbit tasted like. He suppressed his mirth and brought himself back to the task at hand. Now— now he was the Fellowship's protector, though he had not yet bonded with the assortment of strange creatures with which he was traveling. He wasn't really certain of his feelings toward them (except Aragorn and Gandalf, both of whom he knew quite well and admired). Yes, they were odd, especially the dwarf, but they did share a common purpose in this quest, and that made them friends, or at the very least, companions. And, as such, it was each member's duty to protect the others, even if he did think them slightly odd. Especially that dwarf, Legolas brought up again. Finally, deciding that nothing was amiss in the wilds beyond the camp, he returned to the others.
The next morning, well before the sun was up, Legolas stirred. Everyone else was still snoring away, heedless of aught else but dreams. Merry, one of the Hobbits, twitched and said something about "apples." Walking noiselessly past his sleeping companions, the elf came to a rise that overlooked most of the mountainous terrain ahead. The morning chill didn't bother him; if anything, he found it invigorating. Though the moon was nearly gone and the slightest hint of light was seen reflecting a pallid pinkish glow on the clouds, the sun still had yet to be seen. Legolas long stood motionless on the hilltop, a gray silhouette against the rapidly rising sun, casting its warm rays upon the sublime peaks of Caradhras. He watched the light creep slowly from the heights down to the plains and finally to the very knoll on which he enjoyed his brief respite from the quest. At last, the sun was a good space above the mountain slopes. Legolas noticed a pristine river running through an extent of mostly level land about a half a league away and was visibly pleased at the change in topography after passing not the slightest bit of moisture for miles. Though he had expected to find a body of water in the vicinity, he wasn't certain until now. At length, he turned and made back to camp. Presently, the others woke from their repose, having slept far longer than they had intended on account of the previous day's arduous travel.
At Gandalf's bidding, everyone assembled for a hasty meeting before departing. "Our course will not turn towards the river," began the sagacious wizard. "Legolas has informed me of the surrounding area. I believe it would be in our best interests to stay in the mountains."
"But Gandalf," interjected Boromir, "I know for us this path poses not much difficulty, but for the sake of the Halflings, chose the less demanding way. They cannot go on like this for much longer. If there is any peril near the river, you should have faith in your protectors."
"I have no doubt in your skills," continued Gandalf, "but there is only a certain amount of risk we can afford to take on this quest, and I believe that that would prove too much."
"I am sure I will be able to continue here," put in Frodo. "We Hobbits are not as weak as Master Boromir suggests."
"I know," answered Gandalf, smiling. "What say the others?"
"I'm going with Mr. Frodo," said Sam matter-a-factly, crossing his arms. Frodo had to laugh. As if they could ever be separated!
"Of course you are," affirmed Gandalf. "But come now, our discourse is consuming our travel time. Let us be off."
The terrain here was rough and jagged, far more rock than dirt, at any rate. Flat-faced cliffs plummeted down some twenty feet here and there along the edge of the hill, divided in a sort of natural tiers. To their left, the cliffs rose up, to their right they plunged down, creating a natural, though very narrow, rocky path. It continued for a good ways, Legolas saw, and it opened up after perhaps a quarter of a league. Beyond, the snow-capped peak of Caradhras rose eminently as their guide. After they had picked their way carefully along for quite some time, Pippin (at the back), looking downwards, spied something that interested him. It wasn't far down, but a fall onto sharp rocks would be nasty. What the hobbit had seen, however, was far more interesting for the moment. It appeared to be a strange, shiny rock of some type. It was rather small and rounded and was nestled in a small indent in the gravel by the base of the cliff. Had someone dropped some silver? Well, it was no use if they had; there would be no getting at it. As he was about to turn away, he felt something slip off his neck. His scarf! But it was too late. Down it flew to rest by the silver rock. Pippin winced. That was his favorite scarf, too. It had been given him by his Aunty Prisca. It was brown and green wool, lovingly knitted. And now it was gone. It was just too bad. Or was it? Pippin looked at the Fellowship, busily chatting away and pointing at this and that as they moved along the cliffs. Well, they wouldn't notice, would they, if he quickly scurried down and got it…and the silver, perhaps? Yes, it would be a two for one!
At last, desire and curiosity won over common sense. He began searching for hand and foot holds down the cliffside. Here it was maybe 15-17 feet high, and it looked even less from higher up. Pippin lowered a calculating foot over the edge and found a hold, and then the other. The cliff was abundant with pockets and shelves, and so was quite easy to descend. Soon, he was halfway down. He knew he was moving more quickly than he should, but he wanted to be back before the others discovered he was missing. He had just found a suitable foothold when he made the poor choice of using dry grass as a handhold. The roots tore out of the dusty cliff-side and Pippin was falling. His first instinct was to curl up into a ball, but he scarcely had time before he hit. Unusually lucky, he succeeded in landing directly on top of a large, scraggly bush, thus avoiding serious injury. Just a few scrapes and scratches. He looked up to see most of the Fellowship leaning concernedly over the edge observing the situation.
"Peregrin Took!" shouted Gandalf, peering over the ledge. "Of all the nuisances in this world, you are the worst!"
Pippin felt slightly embarrassed as he painstakingly clambered to his feet and made his way out of the bush. "Well," he called up to the others, "I'm still in one piece!"
"You most certainly are," continued the wizard. "Sometimes I regret that fact."
"Any wounds?" asked Aragorn.
"Well, no," stammered Pippin. "At least, nothing serious." The hobbit watched his companions conversing earnestly about what was to be done. Legolas turned and whispered indistinctly in Gandalf's ear. The wizard's face visibly paled. He said something to Legolas in reply and then turned back to the stranded hobbit.
"Pippin," he called, "Legolas tells me we will have a storm soon. We must help you up as swiftly as we may and then find shelter."
"A storm here?" Pippin wondered aloud. "It's sunny!"
Gandalf apparently didn't hear him. He was occupied with the task of solving the irksome problem. "Does anyone have any rope?" he entreated those around him as he left the edge of the cliff.
Pippin didn't know what to do besides wait… and retrieve his scarf, of course. He tied it tighter around his neck this time, and then went to have a look at his silver rock. There it lay, still shining brightly in the sun, very small in the dirt. Pippin eased it out and held it up to examine it. Small, rounded, shiny… It also had some markings like either a decoration or writing of some kind around its circumference, quite faint. Very peculiar, he thought. I wonder what it is.
Legolas strode to the edge of a lofty cliff and noted the ominous clouds gathering around the peak of Caradhras…storm clouds. A most unnatural weather change, and probably, Legolas thought, exactly that. Unnatural. All manner of birds fled before them; that was a sure sign. If you trust nothing else, trust the birds. Where could they all find shelter? Legolas sent his gaze over the landscape for any possible cover. There was nothing that struck him at the moment as an ideal retreat from an impending tempest. There were few places along the cliff-walls that would offer even the slightest bit of refuge. A chill wind whistled past him. Soon it would bring the storm that he could sense in the air.
- - - - - - - - - -
"Peregrin," called Gandalf, tossing the rope down, "catch this, my lad. Quick! We haven't much time!" The rope had been made by joining two shorter ropes to get the desired length. Pippin grasped the rope tightly in both hands. He looked up, regarding the wizard. Gandalf held the rope, his hair blowing wildly in the uncanny breeze. Aragorn and Boromir stood behind him, ready to assist. The Hobbits looked on worriedly. Merry held Gandalf's staff and hat.
"Should I tie it around myself?" Pippin asked over the roaring wind.
"Yes," came the reply. "But hurry!" Pippin quickly made a loop and put it over his head, securing it around his chest and under his arms.
"All right," said Gandalf. "Pull!" They easily heaved the hobbit up, Pippin pushing off of the cliff with his feet. He was nearly up by the time the first raindrops were felt.
"Come, my lad," said Gandalf, helping him remove the rope. "We must find shelter."
Legolas had managed to find a slightly hollowed out space in the rock wall, down the path where it widened out considerably and split off into smaller cliffs along the incline, which would offer meager shelter, but was better than nothing. Next to this, a ponderous stone projection, jutting out from the cliffside, slightly curved around, forming a small alcove-like recess. The cliff above would throw off most of the rain. The elf saw from afar his companions sprinting forward to find him, Aragorn and Gimli in the lead. Legolas motioned behind the towering rock and Aragorn nodded as he came.
"Behind the stone!" the man called over his shoulder. Legolas turned and stared toward the clouded horizon. The rain now poured down in torrents, sloshing along natural stone channels in rushing rivulets. A flash of lightening lit up the sky near the mountain slopes. The thunderous boom rumbled through the cliffs, sending the Hobbits' hands to their ears. Another streak of lightening only seconds apart and another rumble. The overcast sky blackened, covering the land in darkness like that of night, frequently lit up by the lightening.
"Come!" Legolas urged them. Aragorn hurried behind the boulder, the others following. The elf remained outside for a moment, monitoring the magnitude of the storm. Aside from the deluge of rain, he observed not much trouble, and had resigned himself to go inside with his companions, when he saw one last thread of lightening strike the topmost peak of Caradhras, followed by the distant report of a tremendous crash and the tell-tale cracking of great sheets of ice.
His eyes widened in unbelief. "Valar save us," he whispered, watching the snow and ice break loose from the peak and begin cascading down the slope. With a deafening roar, the thundering avalanche sped down the mountainside, covering all in its path. Legolas was paralyzed for a moment, not certain what to do. As the snow neared the cliffs, still he did not move, frozen in place. Here was an enemy he could not fight, and that was something the elf was not accustomed to. At last, he tore his gaze away from the wall of ice and dove behind the boulder, saving his life by a mere second. The avalanche poured over the cliff, taking with it anything not rooted securely to the ground. Legolas heard the scrawny trees cracking and snapping as they were hit by the sheer force of the snow's impact. The others listened in disbelief as the waves of snow rushed by.
"What's going on?" grunted Gimli, unnerved. "Does the weather usually…dothis…here?"
"It's an avalanche," answered Gandalf. Legolas nodded. The wizard continued. "Caradhras is releasing its wrath. Although I wouldn't be surprised if Saruman had something to do with it."
"If you had delayed a minute longer," panted Legolas, long hair soaked and dripping, "you would all be dead by now."
The company nodded. Though the accommodations inside the hollow were cramped, the close conditions aided in keeping them warm. They stood, their backs to the hollowed-out area of cliff, listening restlessly to the mournful wind outside.
Pippin was sobered by Legolas' pronouncement; by the trouble he had caused and their subsequent close escape. He felt bad that he had risked all of their lives for a scarf and a shiny object. "Here," he said, taking off his scarf and handing it to Frodo, who was shivering. "You can wear it for a while."
Frodo looked up gratefully. "Thank-you," he said.
The tempest had ceased. Not a trace of the howling wind could be heard. And in the Fellowship's refuge under the snow, not a sound was heard anywhere. A silence. A dead silence. Aragorn stirred from his sleep and groggily turned to see if anyone else was awake. He noticed Legolas' eyes open once and then close again.
"Legolas," whispered Aragorn, "we must see how deep a drift we are buried in. Come help me."
"Aragorn," replied the elf, "I have already been out today. We are buried in perhaps ten feet of snow. For miles in either direction. Though we could go out, I fear that we would make no progress. You'd all fall in over your heads and we'd have to burrow."
"Ah, I see." Aragorn chuckled. "So we must wait."
"Yes," agreed Legolas. "Unless Gandalf can melt the snow."
"No," said the wizard, suddenly. "I can make fire, but I cannot melt snow. I must have something to work with."
Waiting for the snow to melt would not take long, Aragorn had assured everyone. He estimated that they would be free in three days, more or less. The snow had already begun to melt and the constant drip-drip was heard throughout the day. Boredom resulted in other pastimes. Stories flowed freely from each member of the Fellowship and the snow was nearly forgotten so merry was the time. Each took his turn relating songs and tales from his land.
The Hobbits enjoyed it most of all, for they delighted in learning of the outside world and all its mystery and wonder.
Legolas told of the present state of Mirkwood and also of the first time he had met the cheeky hobbit, Bilbo.
Gandalf told humorous tales of his own journeys, mostly for the amusement of the Hobbits, Legolas presumed, though he could not help but be drawn in by the learned Wizard's stories of his own travels, especially the manner with which Gandalf told them. In the chilling darkness of the cave-like shelter, the wizard's voice spoke, softly echoing off the stone. Though his dark silhouette was all that could be seen, his gestures and facial expressions were somehow easily read in the gloom and added to the story.
Aragorn and Boromir needed a bit more prodding, but eventually each gave a tale. Aragorn told of Lúthien Tinúviel and her love for the mortal, Beren. Legolas smiled. How often had he heard this story, yet the ranger's voice still seemed to capture him, and it was as if he was hearing the tale for the first time.
Boromir's story was quite different from all the rest, as he told a tale of his childhood sweetheart, Nari, and the lengths he had gone to in order to impress her, often ending up quite laughable.
The Hobbits told of their charming frolics in the Shire, though Sam felt inclined to tell of Rosy Cotton and his' first meeting. Pippin stifled a giggle in the corner and Sam looked as though he wanted to smack him, but restrained himself, resulting in laughter from everyone. Sam shrank down lower, attempting to remain unnoticed.
Pippin, finally remembering his newfound treasure, the silver bauble, pulled it out and handed it to Gandalf.
"What's this?" asked the wizard.
"I don't know," replied Pippin. "I was hoping you could tell me."
Gandalf held it up to the small trickle of light filtering in. "Hmmm. It says something around the…. It's hard to read it in this light. Hmm… I can't quite… No. No, it's too faint. I can't read it." He handed it back to Pippin. "Take care of it, my lad. When we return, perhaps Lord Elrond can offer us the answer. I believe the writing is Quenya."
Pippin was excited. Even Gandalf didn't know what it was! Then again, it would probably drive him crazy until he knew, so it was both a blessing and a curse. But he would find out…eventually. Maybe it was a lost treasure! Who knew? Very, very valuable… which meant he should try very, very hard not to lose it. He put it back in his pocket.
Though the melting of the snow took several days, to each member of the Fellowship, it seemed far less. As they left the shelter into the frozen world of white, each person felt much closer to the others than he had in all the days before. Secretly, Legolas was glad of the avalanche, for even though it had thrown them off schedule for a few days, those days were some of the best of his life. Now the impenetrable wall of snow was gone, as was the wall around his own heart that kept him from bonding with his companions. Seeing how they all cared for and protected one another had helped him understand. Though their differences sometimes set up barriers, especially between himself and Gimli, in the end it made him appreciate the uniqueness of each member of the Fellowship and the part it had to play in the Quest.
The End