The ten travelers stopped in what men now called Hollin, near Khazad-dûm, to make camp and rest from the long days that had passed. Gimli had been entertaining them all as of late with tales from Moria and of Balin, his cousin who sought to take back the great dwarven kingdom after the reclamation of Erebor. It was his hope that the Fellowship would go to Dwarrowdelf to receive a warm welcome and a good bit of rest before setting out again, and while the premise sounded lovely, Gandalf urged against taking that path.
Sam nursed a small fire, above which a pot of water boiled for stew. Aragorn and Aeardis sat next to one another watching with attentive gaze and broadening smiles as Boromir instructed both Merry and Pippin in the art of sword fighting. It was Pippin's turn again, the small hobbit stood steadfast with his Barrow-blade, parrying each of Boromir's attacks, sometimes more successfully than others. "Get away from the blade, Pippin," the Steward-Prince instructed between blows, "...on your toes...good, very good...I want you to react, not think," he admonished.
"Should not be too hard," Sam quipped, just loud enough that Aeardis and perhaps Frodo could hear. She chuckled and looked over her shoulder at the stout hobbit with a bright and cheery smile. "Move your feet," Aragorn reprimanded, and that drew her attention back to the lesson at hand.
"Quite good, Pippin," Merry complimented, lifting up his own small sword in preparation for his next turn. "Thanks," Pippin replied slightly out of breath and so the clacking and ringing of steel swords filled the air once more.
Either Boromir's sword slipped or he momentarily had forgotten the inexperience of his sparring partners because Pippin threw his sword down, holding his hand that now bore a small cut, nothing worth fretting over. Aeardis furrowed her brows and stood but the Steward-Prince stepped closer to the injured hobbit, apologizing. The young hobbit suddenly kicked Boromir in the shin and Merry raced forward, "Get him!" Both hobbits lunged toward the Gondorian and wrestled him to the ground, but the esteemed warrior was grinning and returning the churlish antics in full. Aragorn and Aeardis both exchanged amused looks, laughing at their gleeful display. "For the Shire! Hold him down! Hold him down, Merry!"
Aragorn sighed and stood, "Gentlemen, that's enough." But Merry and Pippin took hold of the Rangers legs and threw him backward onto the ground. The laughter died when Sam stood, his eyes trained on the sky where a dark cloud was just visible. "What is that?" he asked and both Aragorn and Boromir stood from their scuffling.
"It's moving fast," Boromir stated, it took but another moment before Aeardis realized that it was moving against the wind too. "Crebain! From Dunland! Legolas announced and then the Fellowship was scrambling to put out the fire and take cover beneath the shrubs and rocks. Aeardis raced to slide beneath the low shrubs and bushes, but her foot caught on an upturned root. She landed on top of Boromir with a dull thud and buried her face in the crook of his neck when the black birds began crowing. An awful, shrieking sound that was so unlike the songbirds of Minas Tirith.
The birds circled round them, then flew back south. Everyone slowly reappeared from their hiding spots, though now the wizard had a particularly grim and worried looked about him. "The passage south is being watched," Gandalf said, no doubt it was due to the treachery of Saruman of the White. "We must take the Pass of Caradhras." Dread filled Aeardis as she looked up at the snow covered peaks of the Misty Mountains. It appeared the safety and comfort they had all enjoyed on the road thus far had come to an end, now the journey truly grew perilous.
The path turned east and as the day's light had come to an end, once more the Fellowship found themselves around a fire already having eaten the stew Sam and Frodo had prepared and told stories from a golden age that had come to pass. Aeardis stood, placed her hand on Boromir's shoulder and turned toward the hill on which their bedrolls had been spread out.
Pippin came scrambling after her when she was out of the Fellowship's earshot. "Miss Aeardis!" he called and she turned to look down at the young hobbit. "Yes, Pippin?" she raised a dark brow in question at his sudden outburst.
"Pippin!" Merry clambered after his younger cousin in great haste and that was when Aeardis realized that the two must have been up to mischief.
"What are you two plotting?" Aeardis demanded, finding that she rather enjoyed their schemes, it gave her joy in dark times. Pippin shuffled on his feet and nudged Merry forward. The elder of the two stuffed his thumbs into the pockets on his waistcoat and looked up at her with red, bashful cheeks. "We only want to know if you've ever been in love." He asked.
Her amusement faded and she glanced back down at the small fire around which the rest of the company sat. "Did Gimli put you two up to this?" The dwarf had become just as bad as Merry and Pippin as of late. Just two night's past he had purposely tripped her so she tumbled into Boromir, knocking both of them to the ground. They both shook their heads. Aeardis huffed, not answering a question such as the one posed was just as bad as telling them the truth of it. "That seems like an irrelevant question at the moment, but yes, I do think I've been in love." I am in love.
"What was he like?" Merry asked and for some stupid reason, she decided to answer him in earnest.
Aeardis closed her eyes for a second, "He's a soldier of Gondor, you see," she began with a sigh, remembering how valiant and handsome he had looked in his silver armor before riding to Osgiliath. "He's a leader and rather selfless in battle, but can be arrogant and bullheaded at times." He rarely listened to her when it came to taking care of himself, his concern was always elsewhere. "He has a proud and noble face that is stern of glance, greyish eyes, and hair that is shorn at his shoulders-," she paused, unsure of what else to tell them but they needed no further insight to know of who she spoke of.
"It's Boromir," Pippin laughed. A question formed on her lips, disbelief, and confusion was written across her face. "You just described Boromir," Merry affirmed, grinning.
"You two are not to say a word or I'll –I'll," Aeardis could not think of a threat cruel enough that the hobbits would actually believe her capable of carrying out so she sighed, crossed her arms and tried to give them a menacing glare, but the tall figure that had approached was enough to startle all three of them. "It would be wise to let her sleep, master hobbits," Boromir implored, "she can be quite sour in the mornings." There was a hint of mirth in his voice at the statement. No doubt he was remembering the few times he had woke her in the early hours only to be slapped or kicked.
Aeardis crossed her arms and glowered as he sat on his bedroll. "That is not true!" She bit back, but the Steward-Prince was smiling in the silver light of the moon and the two young hobbits had taken to their own rolls. Boromir laid on his side, as did Aeardis and for a moment their eyes met and it was as if the world had stopped moving. Feeling her heart rise into her throat, Aeardis closed her eyes and forced the image of him from her mind and alas she found sleep.
Sleep had evaded him for the third night. Even with eyes closed, Boromir could not will himself to surrender to the exhaustion of the journey. Conceding to wakefulness, he had become aware of Aragorn's song. Though not a court singer, the man's voice had an honest and unexpectedly soothing quality to it. For a few moments, the Gondorian's heart felt a little lighter. His head lifted up from his chest and he watched the Ranger from across the fire. "Do you know of the tale of Beren and Lúthien?" Aragorn then inquired, awaiting an answer from the other, as he approached the fire and allowed the silence of the night to fall upon them once more.
"No. Some tutor attempted to teach me the stories of old, but as they had not battles, I was not eager to learn. Faramir was always the scholar, yearning to know all of the songs and tales of the elves." And then he thought of Aeardis and the way she loved to read and how he had once tormented her and her books. She knew the tale that the Ranger spoke of, it was a tune he had heard her playing on a harp.
*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
The next morning dawned even brighter than before. But the air was chill again; already the wind was turning back towards the east. For two more nights they marched on, climbing steadily but ever more slowly as their road wound up into the hills, and the mountains towered up, nearer and nearer. On the third morning Caradhras rose before them, a mighty peak, tipped with snow like silver, but with sheer naked sides, dull red as if stained with blood. There was a black look in the sky, and the sun was wan. The wind had gone now round to the north-east. Gandalf snuffed the air and looked back, troubled.
The snow was already knee deep for the hobbits and they had yet to even reach the top of the mountain and the pass. Aeardis trudged forward, Merry and Pippin following after her in the path she had left behind. Aragorn, Boromir lingered at the back. Frodo was in front of her, holding his cloak tightly around his shoulders until he took a misjudged step and tumbled backward toward Aragorn.
What held Aeardis's attention now was Boromir and the silver chain that he held in his hand. The One Ring hung from it, a heavy weight that the Captain was looking at with a deep longing. His home had been in peril for generations. Should the Company fail the white city would be the first to be destroyed. Then the shadow would spread. To the sea, to the forests, and the mountains. And the people would be powerless to stop it.
That power was within his grasp, whether he surrendered to the call of the Ring or not. Boromir seized that thread of his mind that disregarded the words whispered in his head. Aeardis grasped onto his arm and the trance was broken. He passed the Ring back to Frodo and turned back toward the path ahead.
While they had slowed, 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 a fresh fury. The wind whistled and the snow became a blinding blizzard. Soon even Boromir found it hard to keep going. The hobbits, bent nearly double, toiled along 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, as stout as any dwarf could be, was grumbling as he trudged.
The Company halted suddenly as if they had come to an agreement without any words being spoken. They heard eerie noises in the darkness round them. It may have been only 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. "We cannot go any further tonight," said Boromir and all agreed.
"Where's my blanket?" Aeardis asked, searching through her pack, it was a cold night and she would need it, but it was not to be found. Her brows settled in a deep furrow as she had remembered folding it up just that morning to be stowed away with her mat. "It must have been left behind," someone answered, she thought it had been Legolas.
For the first few minutes, she tried to be obdurate, pulling her knees into her chest and making herself small to conserve warmth. Boromir sighed, "Aeardis, I won't have you freezing because of your own stubbornness." When she would not move he picked up his straw stuffed mat and laid it next to hers. The coarse wool blanket covered them both easily, but he pulled her flush against him and wrapped his arm around her waist. Aeardis grumbled, tucking her head beneath his chin and unable to stop the foolish way her heart fluttered.
It took a couple of minutes but she recalled the morning hours. She knew she had packed her own blanket, but then Gimli had called her over and Merry and Pippin were nowhere to be seen. Aeardis cursed the two halflings and their churlish tricks, but with the warmth of Boromir against her she couldn't find it within herself to be angry with them.