Chap 8
Drizzt couldn't get an adequate explanation out of the party as to why they turned around. According to Aragorn it would take another eight days to get through the pass. A grueling journey, to be sure, but they were already seven days in. To turn around when they were so close was madness as far as she was concerned.
It was true that there was talk of freezing hobbits and eyes on the pass and some enemy wizard at work but she failed to see how turning around would help any of that much at all. If Gandalf wasn't a complete fraud he should be able to find some way to magically warm the hobbits. Legolas's trick proved the magic was possible, even if he still hadn't bothered to teach her how to do it. But instead they listened to Frodo for some reason or another, despite him being the furthest thing from an adventurer.
With some trepidation she'd returned to the saddlebag after recovering from the avalanche. She took the opportunity to practice casting faerie fire, the light bringing comfort in the small space. Sadly it was a heatless fire, but pretty nonetheless. Strangely she'd never noticed the beauty of the violet flames before, only using them to paint targets for her blades.
While annoyed that they were backtracking, Drizzt was glad that soon she'd be out of these wretched mountains. She was fast learning that not all weather was good, and that winter was far less pleasant than fall. Hopefully it wouldn't last too much longer.
It was three days later before she permanently left her leather sanctuary. It was still bitterly cold, wind whipping at her skirt and snow wetting her slippers. But it was an inconvenience she had to endure. Just like amongst the drow she suspected the only way to gain respect as a member of the inferior sex was to defy expectations, not meet them. If the hobbits could continue marching through the snow (albeit with Boromir doing most of the hard work) then so could and so must she. Besides, she'd been skimping on her exercise of late and the walk could do her good. She'd never get back to fighting trim if she didn't keep pushing herself.
Arms crossed over chilled and curiously stiff nipples she padded after the rest of the group. In her old body she'd never had such a thing happen. If her blouse was made of something less smooth and soft she suspected there would be rubbing issues as well. The strange achy bloaty feeling in her abdomen was more immediately worrisome. It didn't feel precisely like indigestion but there was still so much about Arwen's body that she didn't know. Her best guess was that surface elves were warm-weather creatures and either the thin air or chill of the mountains was affecting her body negatively. If it got any worse she'd have to swallow her pride and ask the haughty elf-prince about his warming spell again.