AN- This is Merry's perspective.
I had never met an elf, man, dwarf, or wizard before, so it was a shock to me when I joined the Fellowship of the Ring. I had been curious to know what an elf did when he wasn't shooting arrows. I followed Legolas Greenleaf to the stables. I was surprised that he actually went to the stables- I thought elves just used horses as working animals, and they didn't care for their steeds. I didn't know that the redheaded elf had been taken captive while taking Frodo here to Rivendell. I had just thought that she was busy doing other things. Perhaps serving in the court. Legolas explained the horse connection to me after I accused him of injuring the the redheaded elf's- Tauriel's- horse, when in reality, it was the elf who was injured.
"Merry?" my friend Pippin asked. "We're leaving tomorrow morning. Aragorn says to pack our belongings and prepare for the road." I nodded and continued to stare out at the magnificent scenery of Rivendell. I still never understood why elf lands seemed to flow so much more gracefully together than Hobbiton.
The next morning, I wasn't surprised to see Legolas leading a white mare out from the stables. It wore no saddle and the knife wound was carefully bandaged. I saw a few members of the company exchange confused looks, but I understood. He wanted to keep a piece of his friend with him wherever he went. He wanted to know if she died. I was suddenly struck by how gloomy it sounded, to keep a horse to see if it's owner died. And yet I felt deep sympathy for the elf. I tried to put myself into his shoes. Pippin had vanished. He had been hurt. I had no way except for a horse to know if he lived or died.
"Are we all set?" Boromir asked grumpily. "It's taken you long enough to pretty that horse up, Legolas." The elf remained stonily silent, staring straight ahead as if he had not heard the Gondor man's snide remark. We set off, leaving the beautiful elvish city. I wondered if Legolas felt at home there. I walked beside Pippin, and the graceful elven buildings and structures slowly melted into harsher landscapes.
We trekked on for days, and I grew closer to my companions each day. I learned of Gimli and his odd Dwarven customs, and of Boromir's father, the Steward of Gondor. Aragorn was a Ranger, and Legolas was the prince of another elven place called Mirkwood. Frodo and Sam were as closely knit as Pippin and I. Slowly we began to walk uphill, and the terrain grew thin and the plants were scrawny. It was a huge contrast from the Shire. Soon we passed the tree line. I felt curiously vulnerable as the air got thinner and nothing prevented us from being seen from the air. Soon the air grew cold and there was snow on the ground.
As the incline of the slope grew, I found myself lagging behind the rest. Legolas and the horse tread lightly and were soon ahead of all of the rest of us. I envied the light-footed elf and his ability to stay up on the snow. It was nearly impossible to keep my footing. The snow was up to my knees soon enough. I heard a slight commotion and turned. Frodo had dropped his ring. Boromir turned to give it to him, and he and Aragorn exchanged a few sharp words. Then we continued. The snow seemed to stretch endlessly upwards. I grew tired.
Soon it grew darker and we trudged through waist-deep snow. The weather grew more foul and I could hear someone shouting into the wind. Legolas hurried ahead to check, and a gust of wind nearly blew me off the mountain. I guessed that it would be night soon, but there was no hint of shelter anywhere. Gandalf's hat was covered in snow. The cliff began to break under us.
"We must go through the mines!" Gimli shouted over the roaring wind. I looked over at Gandalf. His face darkened at the mention of the mines.
"The Gap of Rohan!" Boromir suggested. "It would be safer, and less difficult."
"Saruman guards the Gap of Rohan! We would never make it!" Aragorn shouted back. Gandalf let out a big sigh and turned to Frodo. I did, too. I knew that it was Frodo's quest, and he should decide.
"We make for the mines." Frodo decided. Suddenly, the horse's scream of agony cut through the air. Blood ran down the white horse's back. Legolas stroked the horse's face soothingly and murmured to it in elvish. In addition to the knife wound on the horse's back, there were now many lash marks, too.
AN: Sorry for the inacuracies of the story. I'm taking the freedom of writing here. Let me know if I missed any important events in the film- I'm doing it from memory.