Cough.
The snow was getting thick, now. Really, really thick. I was dejected that soon we were going to have to turn around, but for the nonce we were stood, trying to find north from south.
"Legolas?" I asked, my face getting blasted by pelts of snow. I looked like some sort of crazy yeti.
The Elf in question, of course, was doing fine. Oh yeah, as is typical of him and his bloody race when you are flopping around like a fish out of water – a horrifically undignified one, he'll be standing near enough to you so you can see that his hair is perfectly straight and is, as they say, cool as le cucumber.
Stupid Legolas. "Yes?" He answered, sweetly.
"Do you – Plegh Plegh - know what isn't a funny word?"
"Cough?"
"No, I just inhaled the snow that is forcing itself upon my lungs."
"No, I mean, I hate the word cough. There isn't a word for it in Sindarin, you know."
I was pensive. "I never noticed before. Maybe you should invent one."
"And go down in history not as the one who helped save Middle-Earth but as the one who invented the word for cough in Elvish?"
"It would be a noble cause."
We travelled in silence for a little while, mainly because most of us couldn't remember what it felt like to be warm. One of the hobbit's asked if we were there yet and got a clout round the ear from Gandalf, and as a result dropped behind next to me.
"I like the word cough." He said. I think it was Pippin, although it was getting hard to tell with the weather. They all looked like miniature snowmen. "I like the way it's spelt. Cooooowwwwww-phhhhhfff. Or Coooooooooow-ghhh. Or even Co-Ghhh."
I blinked away the frozen rain of doom and looked at him.
"You are a font – no, a well of information, Mr Peregrin." Legolas laughed.
"But I'm Merry."
"Whatever." I mumbled. "No, great. Thanks for that, I've forgotten what my unfunny word was going to be."
"Was it flannel? I hate the word flannel." Legolas volunteered.
"No!"
"I bet it was Cabbage"
"No, damn it! And why cabbage?"
"It reminds me of the word Babbage, and I hate that even more."
I scratched my head, sending a flurry of snow of my hair. "Is Babbage even a real word, Merry?"
"Yes, it means to-"
Gandalf span around and glared at me, as if it was my fault that the snow was falling up to our ears. "Are you going to hang behind and chatter about Babbage's, or are you going walk with the rest of us?"
We all looked at him with wounded hearts, and doe eyes, like children scalded.
"But Gandalf-" Merry began.
"Enough."
He gave a big an act of rebellion as he dared too, kicking a pile of snow, but went ahead with Pippin, muttering. Legolas raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow. "Well. I suppose we'll never know." And with that, he leaped ahead, too, leaving me struggling in the snow.