Chap 5:
It was winter, Frodo had eventually explained. Winter… it was a foul word, she decided. He had compounded her displeasure with the season by mentioning that high, in the mountains it was even colder and the air grew thin and hard to breathe. She'd thought it simply a random fact until he mentioned they planned to travel over said mountains. Boromir had piped in then, declaring in stilted Sindarin that the route past Gondor was far more sensible. She was inclined to agree with him, though she knew nothing of the area's geography. They shared their complaints between them for a time rather amicably until he moved to the head of the party as the snow grew thick.
He served a purpose up there, tromping the snow down so that the hobbits and pony could pass more readily, but she was a bit peeved at him for leaving her behind. He was her only source of friendly conversation save for Frodo after all. Frodo was nice but he was prone to long bouts of silence as he clutched the necklace beneath his shirt.
She herself had taken to perching atop Bill - the pony's name, she had learned -. He'd tried to shake her off once or twice but after lowering her weight with another levitation spell he'd mostly decided to put up with her. Even with the sun out she'd grown more adept at the casting over time but without a forest to aid her she couldn't extend the spell to Bill or the satchels she carried. Not yet, anyways. Given that her feet would freeze solid if she left the pony for too long she had plenty of time to practice.
She frowned as her eyes moved to Legolas. The forest prince was entirely too light-spirited on the snowy slopes of Caradhras. Without tiring his magic he had stayed atop the surface of the snow seemingly effortlessly while staying warm with little more clothing than her. That he managed it despite the wind was amazing and slightly infuriating.
He seemed to sense her glare, cocking his head at her in question. "What spell is that," she asked. "The one that keeps you warm?"
He switched to walking backwards. "It is the same trick as is used by the elves of Rivendell, I would imagine."
"And what spell is that?"
"Lady Arwen, if you are testing me I'm afraid I'm doomed to failure. It's been many centuries since my schooling and I was always more of an instinctual learner than one who gained by memorization and equations."
Drizzt felt her too-full lips purse in confusion. "Centuries? You don't look more than 150."
"I am 634 years old Arwen."
"At least try to make it believable," replied Drizzt. "That would make you older than my mother."
Legolas paused, Bill stopping next to him as we slowly fell behind the rest of the fellowship. "Undomiel… I fear I am playing the fool for asking this, but how old are you?
"Forty-three," said Drizzt. "Perhaps forty-four now."
For the first time she'd seen he lost his balance, shoes sinking through the snow before he regained his composure.
"Arwen, you were born over 2700 years ago."
*A/N*
Going with Hobbit version of Legolas that had him seem younger, roughly Tauriel's age (which I heard was around 600). Next chap probably Gimli-perspective.