Hello again! Hope everyone had an awesome 4th, weather you live in America or not. Hey, it was still the 4th of July, no matter where you live. And thanks for the reviews, guys! Sorry this thing seems like it's going nowhere fast. I'm working on that...
Warnings: As usual, this story will have slash and an OC romance by the time it's over.
Disclaimer: As always, I own no part of the LOTR universe. Well, except for some action figures, board games, movies, tons of posters, etc.... Also, a lot of this comes strait from the book. So if there's a part you don't understand, blame Tolkien. Not me.
World's End
Chapter 5: For Thine Is
Legolas hoped that the others hadn't noticed his many near-stumbles. He didn't want to cause them to worry, to become a burden yet again. He knew this wasn't normal, this feeling that he had. But he also knew that there was nothing he and the others could do about it.
The bouts of dizziness had started in earnest the day before, but he had done his best to ignore them. Besides, with the dizziness came that lighthearted feeling that he so craved. The ability to laugh again, to find those moments of happiness that had been sorely lacking on this Quest... Like the snowball fight and Estel chasing him as he once did when he was a child. He'd managed to forget about their troubles, if only for a little while. And, for that, he would endure anything.
But, ever since that morning, something else had been accompanying the dizziness: a faint sense of nausea. His stomach would twist up into painful knots and he would become more lightheaded than was usual, causing him to nearly stumble and fall on numerous occasions. He always managed to catch himself---sometimes just barely---but had to wonder if that would always be the case. And if he did fall, and the others discovered that all was not well with the Elf prince? What then?
I will not let that happen, he told himself firmly. I have already been too much of a source of worry for them. I won't do it again.
He sincerely hoped that he would be able to keep that promise.
Next to him, Ylana continued to walk gracefully over the snow, her eyes constantly darting around as she kept a lookout for anything that could be dangerous. But they always returned to their place on Boromir's back.
It had been so ever since the brief encounter between the human and Frodo. Legolas knew that it had to be a hurt to his companion. Ylana, unlike himself, truly liked Boromir. The two had managed to become close friends during the time that Ylana had been with them. Oh, she knew of what had conspired at the Council. Legolas had told her of how he had wanted to take the Ring and use it for his own purposes. She had thanked her male counterpart for the warning, but refused to turn down the opportunity to make a new friend.
The two, he had come to discover, had quite a bit in common. They would often speak of the love they had for their brothers, and of the difficulty of protecting their homes against evil forces. When Boromir got angry, it was always Ylana who would step in and calm him down. He was always asking if she needed aid, and she would always laughingly refuse.
Legolas knew that he should be jealous of the relationship his fellow Elf shared with the human he could barely tolerate, but found he could not. He and Ylana were simply friends. No more, no less. If she preferred the Company of Boromir, then that was fine by him.
Aragorn, however, was a completely different matter.
Legolas was mortified to discover that when anyone so much as placed a hand on the Ranger's shoulder, or spoke to him intimately, jealousy would rear up inside of him. He often pressed a hand to his stomach in an effort to be rid of it, telling himself that it was simply an effect of this strange dizziness that had been plaguing him. That he had absolutely no reason to be jealous.
A hand landed on his arm then, forcing him to stop. He looked up in surprise to see that it was Ylana standing there. Not saying a word, she nodded forward. Looking over his shoulder, the male Elf saw a series of jagged boulders, half buried by the snow, that he had been about to run into.
A fierce blush spread across his cheeks. "Please forgive my lack of attention," he apologized. "My mind has taken to wandering when I can sense no evil nearby, and it often fails to warn my body of anything else."
Ylana laughed at his flustered appearance. "Don't worry. You do not have to be a hawk all the time. And I think we're all allowed to let our minds wander occasionally. Don't apologize."
He gave her a sheepish smile, then made to move around the rocks. Still chuckling quietly, Ylana followed. "Just be glad that the Dwarf did not see that."
Legolas groaned at the thought. "I would never hear the end of it. 'Clutzy Elf,'" he said in an imitation of Gimli's voice. "'Can't even walk strait!'"
Ylana covered her mouth to hide a very un-Elvish giggle. A quiet chuckle came from behind them, showing that Aragorn had heard them as well.
This made Legolas extremely happy. To hear his friends laughing once again was the biggest reward he could have earned.
The dizziness swept over him once more, making him feel lightheaded enough to fly. The world spun a bit more righting itself again. He gave Ylana a bright smile before skipping ahead, once again hoping that the others wouldn't notice that he hadn't been himself lately.
But he couldn't feel Aragorn's eyes on him, nor could he see the worried frown on the Ranger's face.
Something wasn't right....
--------------------
The rest of the day proved to be uneventful. It got colder---if that was possible---and Aragorn was glad that Boromir would be taking the watch that night. Legolas may have been small, but he gave off quite a bit of body heat, for which Aragorn was thankful. Besides, it would be easier for him to keep an eye on the Elf this way.
The group ate their dinner of cold cuts, huddled as close together as possible. The wind howled around them mercilessly. They were able to find some shelter from it in the form of a small ledge. No snow lay under it, and the force of the wind was cut down considerably.
As the night approached, the wind died down, and some of the members of the Company ventured out from under the ledge in search for places to sleep. Boromir left to take watch, while Gandalf came to stand beside Aragorn, who was staring out over the darkened landscape.
"Winter deepens behind us," the wizard said quietly. "The tops of the mountains are whiter than they were, snow is lying far down their shoulders. We may well be seen by watchers on the path of Redhorn Gate, and waylaid by some evil; but the weather may prove a more deadly enemy than any. What do you think of your course now, Aragorn?"
Frodo, wrapped tightly in his own cloak and huddled with Sam under Ylana's, overheard the exchange. He had a feeling that Gandalf and Aragorn were continuing some debate that had begun long before. Tuning out the chatter of the other three hobbits beside him, he listened anxiously.
"I think no good of our course from beginning to end, as you know well, Gandalf," answered Aragorn, his eyes fixed on the blond Elf who was sitting cross-legged on the ground, absently writing in the snow with his finger. He seems a bit put off... "And perils known and unknown will grow as we go on. But we must go on, and it is no good our delaying the passage of the mountains. Further south there are no passages. You know this. At least not until one comes to the Gap of Rohan. And we've already turned from that path since what happened with Saruman. Who knows which side now the marshals of the Horse-lords serve?"
'Who knows indeed!" said Gandalf. "But there is another way, and not by the pass of Caradhras; the dark and secret way we have spoken of."
Ylana had come to stand behind Legolas and, even in the dark, Aragorn could see a slight frown on her face. "But let us not speak of it again!" the Ranger said firmly, turning back to the wizard. "Not yet. Say nothing to the others, I beg, not until it is plain there is no other way."
"We must decide before we go further," answered Gandalf.
"Then let us weigh the matter in our minds, while the others rest and sleep."
The wizard nodded. "Very well, then. Good night, Aragorn." With that, he turned and left.
The Ranger stood there for a long moment, eyes closed. How did it come to this...
He sighed and raked a hand through his hair before going over and plopping on the ground next to Legolas.
The Elf turned and offered a grin, and Aragorn was struck by how utterly childlike his companion seemed. "Hello, Estel. Would you like to draw with me?"
The Ranger managed a small smile. "Not right now, Legolas. Maybe tomorrow. Right now, let's just get some sleep."
Legolas nodded and lay back, curled up on his side, away from the hobbits. Aragorn lay beside him, wrapping himself in his cloak and pressing his back to the Elf's for warmth before closing his eyes.
But it was a long time before he fell asleep.
-----------
It was still snowing when they next awoke. The ground cover was now past the hobbits' ankles, and even Gimli would soon have to admit he was having difficulty walking.
While the group ate their breakfast, Gandalf and Aragorn stepped to the side and stood together, looking up at Caradhras. The top was lost in a grey cloud that looked thick with snow. Frodo watched them discreetly, wondering which way the debate would go. When they returned to the Company, it was Gandalf who spoke, and he knew that it had been decided they would face the worsening weather and high pass. He was relieved. He had no idea what this dark and secret way was, but he had a feeling that it was the same Road Aragorn had spoken to him of before. Whatever it was, the very mention of it had seemed to fill Aragorn with dismay, and Frodo was glad it had been abandoned.
Legolas sat off to the side, alone. He could not eat. He had managed to nibble a bit on the food he had been given, but could do no more than that. He felt sick. He pressed a hand to his stomach and hoped that none of the others noticed. Especially Aragorn, who had been watching him like a hawk lately.
The Company set out again with good speed at first; but soon their way became steep and difficult. The twisting and climbing road had in many places almost disappeared, and was blocked with many fallen stones. The day grew dark under thick clouds. A bitter wind swirled among the rocks. By noon they had climbed to the knees of the great mountains. Their narrow path now wound under a sheer wall of cliffs to the left. On the right was a gulf of darkness where the land fell suddenly into a deep ravine.
Laboriously they climbed a sharp slope and halted for a moment at the top. The snow began falling harder.
They went on. But before long the snow was falling fast, faster than it had since they began the climb. It swirled into Frodo's eyes, and the dark bent shapes of Gandalf and Aragorn only a pace or two ahead could hardly be seen.
"I don't like this at all," panted Sam just behind. "Snow's all right on a fine morning, or when it's just barely falling. But I'd rather be in bed if it's going to come a blizzard. I wish this lot would go off to Hobbiton! Folk might welcome it there."
Gandalf halted. Snow was thick on his hood and shoulders; it was already ankle deep about his boots.
"This is what I feared," he said. "What do you say now, Aragorn?"
"That I feared it too," Aragorn answered, "but less than other things. We both knew the risk of snow, though it seldom falls heavily so far to south, save high up in the mountains. But we are not so high yet; we are still far down, where the paths are usually open all winter."
"I wonder if this is a contrivance of the Enemy," said Boromir. "They say in my land that he can govern the storms in the Mountains of Shadow that stand upon the boarders of Mordor. He has strange powers and many allies."
"His arm has grown long indeed," said Gimli, "if he can draw snow from the North to trouble us here three thousand leagues away."
"His arm has grown long," said Gandalf.
Aragorn never heard a word that was said. He was too busy scanning the area for a blond head. A blond head that seemed to be missing.
"Ylana?" he called, spotting the dark-haired Elf leaning against a tree. "Where's Legolas?"
"Oh, he went on ahead. To check out the path, see what it was like."
Aragorn nodded, feeling relieved. For a moment, he'd been worried that his friend had fallen into the ravine. He turned back to the others, but kept one eye open for his wayward friend. He only hoped that everything was all right.
---------------
Legolas Greenleaf was dying.
At least, he felt as though he were dying. He had been on his hands and knees for the better part of fifteen minutes, throwing up everything he'd ever eaten.
Finally, when it seemed as though his stomach was empty, the Elf fell to his side, shaking all over. He needed to get to a river or stream to wash his face and hands, but he didn't even have enough strength to stand. So he scooped up a handful of snow and rubbed it across his face. A shudder of disgust passed through him.
I need to get back to the others, he thought as he lay on the ground, panting and shivering. If not, they'll come looking for me. And I can't let them see me like this. Especially Aragorn.
Legolas managed to get a shaking arm underneath him and push up. Five minutes later, he had managed to rise to a sitting position. And after another seven minutes, he had managed to stand. He leaned against a rock, eyes closed as he took deep, calming breaths.
Finally, when his body had nearly stopped trembling, he opened his eyes and pushed off from the rock. It took him a moment to get his balance, to make the world stop spinning. Then he began to slowly make his way back to the camp, one thought running through his mind.
Something is definitely not right...
-------------
While they were halted, the wind died down, and the snow slackened until it almost ceased. They tramped on again. But they had not gone more than a furlong when the storm returned with fresh fury. The wind whistled and the snow became a blinding fury. Soon even Boromir found it hard to keep going. The hobbits, bent nearly double, toiled behind the taller folk, but it was plain that they could not go much further, if the snow continued. Frodo's feet felt like lead. Pippin was dragging behind. Even Gimli, stout as any Dwarf could be, was grumbling as he trudged along.
The Company halted suddenly, as if they had come to an unspoken agreement. They heard eerie noises in the darkness round them. It may have only been a trick of the wind in the cracks and gullies of the rocky wall, but the sounds were those of shrill cries, and wild howls of laughter. Stones began to fall from the mountain-side, whistling over their heads, or crashing on the path beside them. Every now and again they heard a dull rumble, as a great boulder rolled down from hidden heights above.
"Duck!" Ylana called, grabbing Legolas and pulling him down beside her as a scattering of rocks---big and small---flew over them.
"We can go no further," Boromir said as the Elves picked themselves up. "You can call it the wind if you want; there are fell voices on the air. Those stones are aimed at us."
"I do call it the wind," Aragorn answered a bit testily. "But that doesn't mean you are wrong. 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 Cruel, and had an ill name," said Gimli. "This was long ago, when even rumor of Sauron had not yet reached this land."
"It matters little who is the enemy, if we cannot beat off his attack," said Gandalf in a grumpy voice.
"But what can we do?" cried Pippin miserably. He was leaning against Merry and Frodo, wrapped in Legolas's cloak, shivering uncontrollably.
"We can either stop where we are, or go back," the wizard interjected. "It is no good going on. Only a little higher, if my memory serves me right, this path leaves the cliff and runs into a wide shallow through the bottom of a long hard slope. We should have no shelter from the snow, or stones---or anything else for that matter."
"And it is no good going back while the storm holds," came Aragorn. "We have passed no place on the way up that offered more shelter than this cliff-wall we are under now."
"Shelter," muttered Sam. "If this is shelter, then one wall and no roof make a house."
Legolas couldn't help but chuckle. "How right you are, Sam. How right you are."
-----------------
The Company now gathered together as close to the cliff as they could. It faced southwards, and near the bottom it leaned out a little, so that they hoped it would give them some protection from the northerly wind and from the falling stones. But eddying blasts swirled around them from every side, and the snow flowed down in even denser clouds.
They huddled as close together as they could with their backs to the wall. Bill the Pony stood patiently but dejectedly in front of the hobbits, and screened them a little; but before long the drifting snow was above his hocks, and it continued to mount. If it wasn't for their larger companions, the hobbits would soon have been entirely buried.
Legolas was leaning against a rock, one foot resting behind him, arms crossed, eyes closed. He hoped that the others would simply think that he was enjoying the snow. But he was tired. Utterly and thoroughly exhausted. He would've been worried if he wasn't so tired that he couldn't think strait. It wasn't natural for Elves to feel this way.
He wasn't the only one, though. A great sleepiness came over Frodo; he felt himself sinking fast into a warm and hazy dream. He thought a fire was heating his toes, and out of the shadows on the other side of the hearth he heard Bilbo's voice speaking. I don't think much of your diary, he said. Snowstorms on January the twelfth: there was no need to come back and report that!
But I wanted to rest and sleep, Bilbo, Frodo answered with an effort, when he felt himself shaken, and he came back painfully to wakefulness. Boromir had lifted him off the ground out of a nest of snow. Despite his lack of trust for the Man, Frodo was very grateful.
"This will be the death of the halflings, Gandalf," said Boromir, having to shout in order to be heard over the wind. "It is useless to sit here until the snow goes over our heads. We must do something to save ourselves."
"Give them this," said Gandalf, searching in his pack and drawing out a leathern flask. "Just a mouthful each---for all of us. It is very precious. It is miruvor, the cordial of Imladris. Elrond gifted it to me at our parting. Pass it round!"
As soon as Frodo had swallowed a little of the warm and fragrant liquor he felt a new strength of heart, and the heaviness left his limbs. The others also revived and found fresh hope and vigour. Legolas was no longer exhausted. But the snow did not relent. It whirled about them thicker than ever, and the wind blew louder.
'What do you say to a fire?" asked Boromir suddenly. "The choice seems now between fire and death, Gandalf. Doubtless we shall be hidden from all unfriendly eyes when the snow covers us, but that will be no good."
"You may make a fire, if you can," answered Gandalf. "If there are any watchers that can endure this storm, then I have no doubt they can see us, fire or no."
But though they had brought wood and kindling by the advice of Boromir, it passed the skill of Elf or even Dwarf to strike a flame that would hold amid the swirling wind or catch in the wet fuel. This caused Ylana to mutter curses in frustration. At last reluctantly Gandalf himself took a hand. Picking up a bit of wood, he held it aloft for a moment, and with a word of command, naur an edraith ammen!, he thrust the end of his staff into the midst of it. At once a great spout of green and blue flame sprang out, and the wood flared and spluttered.
"If there are any to see, then I am at least revealed to them," he said. "I have written Gandalf is here in signs that all can read from Rivendell to the Mouth of the Anduin."
But the Company cared no longer for watchers or unfriendly eyes. Their hearts were rejoiced to see the light of the fire. The wood burned merrily; and though all round it the snow hissed, and pools of slush crept under their feet, they warmed their hands gladly at the blaze. There they stood, stooping in a circle round the little dancing and blowing flames. A red light was on their tired and anxious faces; behind them the night was like a black wall.
But the wood was burning fast, and the snow still fell.
Warnings: As usual, this story will have slash and an OC romance by the time it's over.
Disclaimer: As always, I own no part of the LOTR universe. Well, except for some action figures, board games, movies, tons of posters, etc.... Also, a lot of this comes strait from the book. So if there's a part you don't understand, blame Tolkien. Not me.
World's End
Chapter 5: For Thine Is
Legolas hoped that the others hadn't noticed his many near-stumbles. He didn't want to cause them to worry, to become a burden yet again. He knew this wasn't normal, this feeling that he had. But he also knew that there was nothing he and the others could do about it.
The bouts of dizziness had started in earnest the day before, but he had done his best to ignore them. Besides, with the dizziness came that lighthearted feeling that he so craved. The ability to laugh again, to find those moments of happiness that had been sorely lacking on this Quest... Like the snowball fight and Estel chasing him as he once did when he was a child. He'd managed to forget about their troubles, if only for a little while. And, for that, he would endure anything.
But, ever since that morning, something else had been accompanying the dizziness: a faint sense of nausea. His stomach would twist up into painful knots and he would become more lightheaded than was usual, causing him to nearly stumble and fall on numerous occasions. He always managed to catch himself---sometimes just barely---but had to wonder if that would always be the case. And if he did fall, and the others discovered that all was not well with the Elf prince? What then?
I will not let that happen, he told himself firmly. I have already been too much of a source of worry for them. I won't do it again.
He sincerely hoped that he would be able to keep that promise.
Next to him, Ylana continued to walk gracefully over the snow, her eyes constantly darting around as she kept a lookout for anything that could be dangerous. But they always returned to their place on Boromir's back.
It had been so ever since the brief encounter between the human and Frodo. Legolas knew that it had to be a hurt to his companion. Ylana, unlike himself, truly liked Boromir. The two had managed to become close friends during the time that Ylana had been with them. Oh, she knew of what had conspired at the Council. Legolas had told her of how he had wanted to take the Ring and use it for his own purposes. She had thanked her male counterpart for the warning, but refused to turn down the opportunity to make a new friend.
The two, he had come to discover, had quite a bit in common. They would often speak of the love they had for their brothers, and of the difficulty of protecting their homes against evil forces. When Boromir got angry, it was always Ylana who would step in and calm him down. He was always asking if she needed aid, and she would always laughingly refuse.
Legolas knew that he should be jealous of the relationship his fellow Elf shared with the human he could barely tolerate, but found he could not. He and Ylana were simply friends. No more, no less. If she preferred the Company of Boromir, then that was fine by him.
Aragorn, however, was a completely different matter.
Legolas was mortified to discover that when anyone so much as placed a hand on the Ranger's shoulder, or spoke to him intimately, jealousy would rear up inside of him. He often pressed a hand to his stomach in an effort to be rid of it, telling himself that it was simply an effect of this strange dizziness that had been plaguing him. That he had absolutely no reason to be jealous.
A hand landed on his arm then, forcing him to stop. He looked up in surprise to see that it was Ylana standing there. Not saying a word, she nodded forward. Looking over his shoulder, the male Elf saw a series of jagged boulders, half buried by the snow, that he had been about to run into.
A fierce blush spread across his cheeks. "Please forgive my lack of attention," he apologized. "My mind has taken to wandering when I can sense no evil nearby, and it often fails to warn my body of anything else."
Ylana laughed at his flustered appearance. "Don't worry. You do not have to be a hawk all the time. And I think we're all allowed to let our minds wander occasionally. Don't apologize."
He gave her a sheepish smile, then made to move around the rocks. Still chuckling quietly, Ylana followed. "Just be glad that the Dwarf did not see that."
Legolas groaned at the thought. "I would never hear the end of it. 'Clutzy Elf,'" he said in an imitation of Gimli's voice. "'Can't even walk strait!'"
Ylana covered her mouth to hide a very un-Elvish giggle. A quiet chuckle came from behind them, showing that Aragorn had heard them as well.
This made Legolas extremely happy. To hear his friends laughing once again was the biggest reward he could have earned.
The dizziness swept over him once more, making him feel lightheaded enough to fly. The world spun a bit more righting itself again. He gave Ylana a bright smile before skipping ahead, once again hoping that the others wouldn't notice that he hadn't been himself lately.
But he couldn't feel Aragorn's eyes on him, nor could he see the worried frown on the Ranger's face.
Something wasn't right....
--------------------
The rest of the day proved to be uneventful. It got colder---if that was possible---and Aragorn was glad that Boromir would be taking the watch that night. Legolas may have been small, but he gave off quite a bit of body heat, for which Aragorn was thankful. Besides, it would be easier for him to keep an eye on the Elf this way.
The group ate their dinner of cold cuts, huddled as close together as possible. The wind howled around them mercilessly. They were able to find some shelter from it in the form of a small ledge. No snow lay under it, and the force of the wind was cut down considerably.
As the night approached, the wind died down, and some of the members of the Company ventured out from under the ledge in search for places to sleep. Boromir left to take watch, while Gandalf came to stand beside Aragorn, who was staring out over the darkened landscape.
"Winter deepens behind us," the wizard said quietly. "The tops of the mountains are whiter than they were, snow is lying far down their shoulders. We may well be seen by watchers on the path of Redhorn Gate, and waylaid by some evil; but the weather may prove a more deadly enemy than any. What do you think of your course now, Aragorn?"
Frodo, wrapped tightly in his own cloak and huddled with Sam under Ylana's, overheard the exchange. He had a feeling that Gandalf and Aragorn were continuing some debate that had begun long before. Tuning out the chatter of the other three hobbits beside him, he listened anxiously.
"I think no good of our course from beginning to end, as you know well, Gandalf," answered Aragorn, his eyes fixed on the blond Elf who was sitting cross-legged on the ground, absently writing in the snow with his finger. He seems a bit put off... "And perils known and unknown will grow as we go on. But we must go on, and it is no good our delaying the passage of the mountains. Further south there are no passages. You know this. At least not until one comes to the Gap of Rohan. And we've already turned from that path since what happened with Saruman. Who knows which side now the marshals of the Horse-lords serve?"
'Who knows indeed!" said Gandalf. "But there is another way, and not by the pass of Caradhras; the dark and secret way we have spoken of."
Ylana had come to stand behind Legolas and, even in the dark, Aragorn could see a slight frown on her face. "But let us not speak of it again!" the Ranger said firmly, turning back to the wizard. "Not yet. Say nothing to the others, I beg, not until it is plain there is no other way."
"We must decide before we go further," answered Gandalf.
"Then let us weigh the matter in our minds, while the others rest and sleep."
The wizard nodded. "Very well, then. Good night, Aragorn." With that, he turned and left.
The Ranger stood there for a long moment, eyes closed. How did it come to this...
He sighed and raked a hand through his hair before going over and plopping on the ground next to Legolas.
The Elf turned and offered a grin, and Aragorn was struck by how utterly childlike his companion seemed. "Hello, Estel. Would you like to draw with me?"
The Ranger managed a small smile. "Not right now, Legolas. Maybe tomorrow. Right now, let's just get some sleep."
Legolas nodded and lay back, curled up on his side, away from the hobbits. Aragorn lay beside him, wrapping himself in his cloak and pressing his back to the Elf's for warmth before closing his eyes.
But it was a long time before he fell asleep.
-----------
It was still snowing when they next awoke. The ground cover was now past the hobbits' ankles, and even Gimli would soon have to admit he was having difficulty walking.
While the group ate their breakfast, Gandalf and Aragorn stepped to the side and stood together, looking up at Caradhras. The top was lost in a grey cloud that looked thick with snow. Frodo watched them discreetly, wondering which way the debate would go. When they returned to the Company, it was Gandalf who spoke, and he knew that it had been decided they would face the worsening weather and high pass. He was relieved. He had no idea what this dark and secret way was, but he had a feeling that it was the same Road Aragorn had spoken to him of before. Whatever it was, the very mention of it had seemed to fill Aragorn with dismay, and Frodo was glad it had been abandoned.
Legolas sat off to the side, alone. He could not eat. He had managed to nibble a bit on the food he had been given, but could do no more than that. He felt sick. He pressed a hand to his stomach and hoped that none of the others noticed. Especially Aragorn, who had been watching him like a hawk lately.
The Company set out again with good speed at first; but soon their way became steep and difficult. The twisting and climbing road had in many places almost disappeared, and was blocked with many fallen stones. The day grew dark under thick clouds. A bitter wind swirled among the rocks. By noon they had climbed to the knees of the great mountains. Their narrow path now wound under a sheer wall of cliffs to the left. On the right was a gulf of darkness where the land fell suddenly into a deep ravine.
Laboriously they climbed a sharp slope and halted for a moment at the top. The snow began falling harder.
They went on. But before long the snow was falling fast, faster than it had since they began the climb. It swirled into Frodo's eyes, and the dark bent shapes of Gandalf and Aragorn only a pace or two ahead could hardly be seen.
"I don't like this at all," panted Sam just behind. "Snow's all right on a fine morning, or when it's just barely falling. But I'd rather be in bed if it's going to come a blizzard. I wish this lot would go off to Hobbiton! Folk might welcome it there."
Gandalf halted. Snow was thick on his hood and shoulders; it was already ankle deep about his boots.
"This is what I feared," he said. "What do you say now, Aragorn?"
"That I feared it too," Aragorn answered, "but less than other things. We both knew the risk of snow, though it seldom falls heavily so far to south, save high up in the mountains. But we are not so high yet; we are still far down, where the paths are usually open all winter."
"I wonder if this is a contrivance of the Enemy," said Boromir. "They say in my land that he can govern the storms in the Mountains of Shadow that stand upon the boarders of Mordor. He has strange powers and many allies."
"His arm has grown long indeed," said Gimli, "if he can draw snow from the North to trouble us here three thousand leagues away."
"His arm has grown long," said Gandalf.
Aragorn never heard a word that was said. He was too busy scanning the area for a blond head. A blond head that seemed to be missing.
"Ylana?" he called, spotting the dark-haired Elf leaning against a tree. "Where's Legolas?"
"Oh, he went on ahead. To check out the path, see what it was like."
Aragorn nodded, feeling relieved. For a moment, he'd been worried that his friend had fallen into the ravine. He turned back to the others, but kept one eye open for his wayward friend. He only hoped that everything was all right.
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Legolas Greenleaf was dying.
At least, he felt as though he were dying. He had been on his hands and knees for the better part of fifteen minutes, throwing up everything he'd ever eaten.
Finally, when it seemed as though his stomach was empty, the Elf fell to his side, shaking all over. He needed to get to a river or stream to wash his face and hands, but he didn't even have enough strength to stand. So he scooped up a handful of snow and rubbed it across his face. A shudder of disgust passed through him.
I need to get back to the others, he thought as he lay on the ground, panting and shivering. If not, they'll come looking for me. And I can't let them see me like this. Especially Aragorn.
Legolas managed to get a shaking arm underneath him and push up. Five minutes later, he had managed to rise to a sitting position. And after another seven minutes, he had managed to stand. He leaned against a rock, eyes closed as he took deep, calming breaths.
Finally, when his body had nearly stopped trembling, he opened his eyes and pushed off from the rock. It took him a moment to get his balance, to make the world stop spinning. Then he began to slowly make his way back to the camp, one thought running through his mind.
Something is definitely not right...
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While they were halted, the wind died down, and the snow slackened until it almost ceased. They tramped on again. But they had not gone more than a furlong when the storm returned with fresh fury. The wind whistled and the snow became a blinding fury. Soon even Boromir found it hard to keep going. The hobbits, bent nearly double, toiled behind the taller folk, but it was plain that they could not go much further, if the snow continued. Frodo's feet felt like lead. Pippin was dragging behind. Even Gimli, stout as any Dwarf could be, was grumbling as he trudged along.
The Company halted suddenly, as if they had come to an unspoken agreement. They heard eerie noises in the darkness round them. It may have only been a trick of the wind in the cracks and gullies of the rocky wall, but the sounds were those of shrill cries, and wild howls of laughter. Stones began to fall from the mountain-side, whistling over their heads, or crashing on the path beside them. Every now and again they heard a dull rumble, as a great boulder rolled down from hidden heights above.
"Duck!" Ylana called, grabbing Legolas and pulling him down beside her as a scattering of rocks---big and small---flew over them.
"We can go no further," Boromir said as the Elves picked themselves up. "You can call it the wind if you want; there are fell voices on the air. Those stones are aimed at us."
"I do call it the wind," Aragorn answered a bit testily. "But that doesn't mean you are wrong. 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 Cruel, and had an ill name," said Gimli. "This was long ago, when even rumor of Sauron had not yet reached this land."
"It matters little who is the enemy, if we cannot beat off his attack," said Gandalf in a grumpy voice.
"But what can we do?" cried Pippin miserably. He was leaning against Merry and Frodo, wrapped in Legolas's cloak, shivering uncontrollably.
"We can either stop where we are, or go back," the wizard interjected. "It is no good going on. Only a little higher, if my memory serves me right, this path leaves the cliff and runs into a wide shallow through the bottom of a long hard slope. We should have no shelter from the snow, or stones---or anything else for that matter."
"And it is no good going back while the storm holds," came Aragorn. "We have passed no place on the way up that offered more shelter than this cliff-wall we are under now."
"Shelter," muttered Sam. "If this is shelter, then one wall and no roof make a house."
Legolas couldn't help but chuckle. "How right you are, Sam. How right you are."
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The Company now gathered together as close to the cliff as they could. It faced southwards, and near the bottom it leaned out a little, so that they hoped it would give them some protection from the northerly wind and from the falling stones. But eddying blasts swirled around them from every side, and the snow flowed down in even denser clouds.
They huddled as close together as they could with their backs to the wall. Bill the Pony stood patiently but dejectedly in front of the hobbits, and screened them a little; but before long the drifting snow was above his hocks, and it continued to mount. If it wasn't for their larger companions, the hobbits would soon have been entirely buried.
Legolas was leaning against a rock, one foot resting behind him, arms crossed, eyes closed. He hoped that the others would simply think that he was enjoying the snow. But he was tired. Utterly and thoroughly exhausted. He would've been worried if he wasn't so tired that he couldn't think strait. It wasn't natural for Elves to feel this way.
He wasn't the only one, though. A great sleepiness came over Frodo; he felt himself sinking fast into a warm and hazy dream. He thought a fire was heating his toes, and out of the shadows on the other side of the hearth he heard Bilbo's voice speaking. I don't think much of your diary, he said. Snowstorms on January the twelfth: there was no need to come back and report that!
But I wanted to rest and sleep, Bilbo, Frodo answered with an effort, when he felt himself shaken, and he came back painfully to wakefulness. Boromir had lifted him off the ground out of a nest of snow. Despite his lack of trust for the Man, Frodo was very grateful.
"This will be the death of the halflings, Gandalf," said Boromir, having to shout in order to be heard over the wind. "It is useless to sit here until the snow goes over our heads. We must do something to save ourselves."
"Give them this," said Gandalf, searching in his pack and drawing out a leathern flask. "Just a mouthful each---for all of us. It is very precious. It is miruvor, the cordial of Imladris. Elrond gifted it to me at our parting. Pass it round!"
As soon as Frodo had swallowed a little of the warm and fragrant liquor he felt a new strength of heart, and the heaviness left his limbs. The others also revived and found fresh hope and vigour. Legolas was no longer exhausted. But the snow did not relent. It whirled about them thicker than ever, and the wind blew louder.
'What do you say to a fire?" asked Boromir suddenly. "The choice seems now between fire and death, Gandalf. Doubtless we shall be hidden from all unfriendly eyes when the snow covers us, but that will be no good."
"You may make a fire, if you can," answered Gandalf. "If there are any watchers that can endure this storm, then I have no doubt they can see us, fire or no."
But though they had brought wood and kindling by the advice of Boromir, it passed the skill of Elf or even Dwarf to strike a flame that would hold amid the swirling wind or catch in the wet fuel. This caused Ylana to mutter curses in frustration. At last reluctantly Gandalf himself took a hand. Picking up a bit of wood, he held it aloft for a moment, and with a word of command, naur an edraith ammen!, he thrust the end of his staff into the midst of it. At once a great spout of green and blue flame sprang out, and the wood flared and spluttered.
"If there are any to see, then I am at least revealed to them," he said. "I have written Gandalf is here in signs that all can read from Rivendell to the Mouth of the Anduin."
But the Company cared no longer for watchers or unfriendly eyes. Their hearts were rejoiced to see the light of the fire. The wood burned merrily; and though all round it the snow hissed, and pools of slush crept under their feet, they warmed their hands gladly at the blaze. There they stood, stooping in a circle round the little dancing and blowing flames. A red light was on their tired and anxious faces; behind them the night was like a black wall.
But the wood was burning fast, and the snow still fell.