A/N: Thanks for all those that reviewed.

Enjoy.

Eriador
January 5, 3018 T.A.

Iri was exhausted. Over a week of non-stop traveling, and he had yet to see hide nor hair of the fellowship. The good news was that the tracks were becoming progressively fresher. Iri thought that he was now only a few hours behind them.

He continued on, and by late afternoon had caught sight of them. Iri was thankful for his much improved eyesight which would allow him to observe from a safe distance.

If he had been a bit more alert and well rested, Iri would have realized that as the day wore on, he was beginning to become sloppier; allowing a certain blond-haired elf to catch glimpses of him several times that evening. But the truth was that in order to catch up to the fellowship Iri had been resting for only a few short hours per day before heading out again. And the past day he hadn't slept at all, so excited was he to finally catch up to his quarry.

By the time morning came, Iri was ready to drop from exhaustion. And he became a bit more aware of his brash decision. Just because he had caught up with the fellowship didn't mean that he was going to be welcomed into the company. And just how was he going to make his presence known? He couldn't just approach them and say "Guess who!". In fact, it was more than likely that if he tried to approach them, he'd be struck down, thought to be an orc or a spy of Sauron in the distance.

Mentally berating himself for acting so foolishly, Iri decided to sleep. The fellowship was just ahead, so he had no fear of losing them, and hopefully he'd get an idea of what to do once he was fully rested.

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January 6, 3018 T.A.

Frodo wearily trudged onward behind Gimli. It had been 12 days since leaving Rivendell and Frodo felt as if he'd never been so tired. A typical day involved endless walking and stumbling until about midday, when the company would find a cave, or thick bushes to hide beneath, to use as shelter and rest. In the late afternoon they would be awoken by whoever was on guard-duty to have the main meal – which was usually cold and bland, since no one wanted to risk lighting a fire and attracting the attention of any of Sauron's servants. Then they would set out again and the cycle would continue.

Despite the fact that all they ever did was travel, it seemed to the hobbits that they were gaining no ground and were going nowhere. The scenery all looked the same and the pace was very slow. The only condolence was that the distant mountains seemed to be gradually becoming larger – unless it was just wishful thinking on the hobbits' part.

"We'll make camp here for today." Gandalf, who was leading with Aragorn (being the only two people who had any knowledge of the area) stated.

Merry and Pippin slumped to the ground in relief. They barely took the time to arrange themselves more comfortably in the grove they were using as shelter before drifting off to sleep. Sam wasn't far behind them. Frodo although weary, wasn't quite ready to succumb to slumber. He felt kind of bad for putting his friends through this hardship; they were unaccustomed to traveling or dealing with perilous situations. That wasn't to say that Frodo was, but at least he had had a better idea as to what he was getting into (thanks to Bilbo) than the others.

Frodo lied down and let his mind drift to Bilbo - his dear uncle whom Frodo didn't think he'd ever see again after his abrupt departure during the party last year. He had spent much of the two months at Rivendell in the elder hobbit's presence; telling stories, talking, and helping Bilbo with his book. Bilbo had even convinced Frodo to write down his own adventures up to Rivendell, and bade him to finish it once the quest was finished. If it was ever finished.

Frodo frowned at that depressing thought and pushed it out of his mind. Now was not the time to be downcast. Not when the journey had just begun and they had come across no enemies. And if any orcs did approach, Frodo would know, thanks to Sting.

As a parting gift, Bilbo gave Frodo two things which he had attained in his adventure with the dwarves. The first was an elvish dagger – Sting. Whenever orcs where around, the blade glowed blue. The second gift was a mithril shirt of mail, which was very light yet would protect Frodo from the hardest and sharpest of blades. Though everyone knew that Frodo bore Sting, Bilbo requested that Frodo keep the dwarf-mail a secret; so none knew what lay hidden beneath Frodo's clothes.

Frodo then let his mind wander to Iri, another person that Frodo had spent a lot of time with at Rivendell. Since he hadn't been allowed to come with them, the green-eyed man insisted on helping them as much as he could before they left. He had helped them pack and insisted that the hobbits take lessons with him from his family on how to fight. Iri was also working on a way to lessen the influence that the ring had (or would have) on Frodo.

It basically entailed that Frodo calms himself, breaths deeply, and let his mind relax and become empty. Frodo didn't know how well it worked (though he did feel less motivated to check on the ring every now and then to see if he still had it and didn't drop it somewhere), but he did know that it always helped him sleep easier, more deeply and with no dreams.

Speaking of sleep, Frodo decided to make the most of the fellowship's stop. He got into a comfortable position and started clearing his mind, falling asleep in a matter of minutes.

But not all of the fellowship's members were planning to rest right away. Legolas who, having the keenest eyes within the company, was acting as the rear guard while traveling, made his way towards Aragorn about something he had seen.

"There is something following us. I do not know for how long – it moves swiftly and silently and ensures that it stays far enough away to be out of sight. I had felt eyes on us since yesterday morn, but have yet to see it until late in the night." Legolas told his friend.

Aragorn looked thoughtful for a while. "Come, let us go see who it is and whether they are friend or foe." Aragorn decided.

"What of the others?" Legolas asked.

"We shall leave them to rest under Gandalf's watch. They need their rest, and if there is only one, he will not be that much of a threat." Aragorn responded.

After a whispered conversation with Gandalf, Aragorn and Legolas silently made their way towards the place that Legolas last saw the unknown follower, weapons at the ready in case of an enemy. After a few hours march, they came across an unexpected sight.

They would have missed it entirely if it were not for Aragorn's knowledge of the land and skills of a ranger, and Legolas' keen eyes. There, in a small grove in the ground covered by bushes, was a slumbering figure. A very familiar slumbering figure.

Aragorn lowered his weapons and sighed wearily. After hearing all those stories about him, and spending so much time with him in Rivendell, the ranger felt as though he should have expected this. Aragorn wondered how long Iri had tracked them for, since he was obviously exhausted if he and Legolas were able to sneak up on the dark haired man. Aragorn knew from experience that Iri's life had made him a very light sleeper, ready to defend and attack at a moment's notice.

Legolas, who didn't know Iri that well, let out a string of curses at seeing that the human had followed them here. No later than after Legolas let out the first curse, than did Iri jump up and draw out a pair of daggers defensively. After a moment in which Iri's brain caught up to the situation he found himself in, he lowered his blades and smiled sheepishly at the two warriors, at a loss for words.

"Hello Iri. Fancy seeing you out here. Correct me if I'm wrong, but you seem to be very far from Rivendell, which is where I believe you are supposed to be. Let me guess, you told no one about your little trip?" Aragorn asked.

"Well, they'd know about it by now..." Iri responded.

Looking over at his elvish friend, who seemed to be trying his hardest not to start yelling, and therefore attract the attention of any nearby enemies, Aragorn decided to handle the situation.

"Come Iri, we are going back to the others."

It was a silent trip back. Aragorn was torn between joy and frustration about Iri's presence. Legolas was still silently fuming, though his anger seemed to be lessening with time. And Iri's face was an unreadable mask; he was just silently carrying his bag, trailing in the back behind the ranger and elf.

By the time the three reached camp, everyone was awake and eating. Upon seeing Iri, there was a moment of stunned silence as everyone stared at the green-eyed man.

"Umm…hi?"

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January 9, 3018 T.A.

Iri watched as Boromir worked with Merry and Pippin, teaching them how to swordfight, using their daggers. Aragorn was occasionally giving pointers to the hobbits while smoking a pipe.

It was now a few days after Iri had become an unofficial member of the fellowship and things were much smoother between him and the other members, of whom not everyone had been thrilled to see him (to put it lightly). The hobbits had of course been thrilled and grateful for his sudden appearance. Aragorn, Gandalf and Gimli had been both upset that he had come (fearing for his safety and lack of skills with fighting with weapons), happy for his company since they had become friends at Rivendell (especially with Aragorn), but mainly resigned to his presence. Boromir and Legolas, whom Iri also knew the least, had been displeased and felt that he would only be a hindrance and liability to the company. It was only after hours of reasoning (i.e. arguing) that Iri was allowed to continue on with them. Mainly because going back on his own (if he could even be trusted to actually return on his own to Rivendell) would be too dangerous and might alert spies that something was happening.

Suddenly in the mock fight, one of Boromir's attacks nicked Pippin's finger. Pippin dropped the dagger in shock and cradled his wounded hand.

"Sorry!" Boromir said, dropping his weapon and approaching the hobbit to see how bad the damage was. Pippin took that opportunity to kick the Gondorian in the shins, while Merry swung at Boromir's legs with the flat of his blade. Boromirs stumbled and fell from the unexpected attacks and the hobbits yelled out a war cry and jumped on him.

Aragorn let the hobbits enjoy there victory for a few moments before he decided to interfere and help the other human out (since Boromir was only half-heartedly fighting back against the hobbits, both enjoying their amusement and afraid of hurting them). But when the ranger tried to pry the hobbits off the Gondorian, they each grabbed a leg and yanked, making Aragorn land flat on his back. Iri, Frodo and Sam continued to cheer on as the two humans teamed up against the hobbits to deal with them once and for all.

Unfortunately their fun was cut short as everyone came to notice a growing dark shape in the south, it looked like smoke and was gradually becoming larger and closer.

"What is that Strider?" Sam asked.

"It's nothing," Gimli responded, dismissing the fellowship's unease "it's just a wisp of cloud."

Boromir straightened and squinted to better see the steadily approaching dark mass. "It's moving fast. Against the wind."

Legolas was finally able to discern and identify the individual shapes which formed the throng of darkness. "Crebains from Dunland!"

"Quick! Hide!"

Everyone rushed to put out the fire and gather and hide all their equipment and themselves before the crow-like birds caught sight of them. They remained still and silent in their respective hiding places as the birds soared, circled and dived overhead searching for anything they could report back to their master. Finally after what felt like an eternity, they flew off.

The fellowship waited longer to be sure that the threat was gone before emerging from their hiding spots. They continued their journey towards the pass of Caradhras slowly and cautiously since dark forms were commonly swooping around to spy on the landscape. A few days of travel later brought the company to the base of the mountain.

"The weather gets colder as winter continues, the peaks are getting even snowier and more dangerous to navigate, the road is narrow and open to attack, and we will undoubtedly be seen by spies. We should not take this path." Boromir stated, trying one more time to convince the fellowship to take the Great South Road to the Gap of Rohan.

Gandalf sighed from the old argument. "We cannot take that road as you well know – we have already been sighted by the crebains and the Gap of Rohan will be even more heavily guarded. When you came north to Rivendell using that road, you were but one man of no importance to the Enemy, which is why you encountered no danger. But now you travel with the Ring's company and it is no longer safe going back using the same route. Both Sauron and Saruman watch the road and it passes too close to Isengard for us to travel by it and remain unscathed. And as for Moria," Gandalf continued, interrupting Gimli before the dwarf could put in his two cents, "I would only take the road through Moria if I had no other choice." With that note of finality, the fellowship let the matter rest as they prepared for their trek up the mountain.

Boromir, resigned to the fellowship's current course decided to at least make sure that their route would be traveled as safely and comfortably as possible. "I grew up under the shadow of the White Mountain and have some experience with the high places of the world. We shall meet bitter cold, if no worse, before we come down on the other side. Pack as much dry wood as you can carry for fire – it would do us no good to keep our position hidden if we are frozen to death because of it."

The company spent the next hour gathering wood and bundling in the warm clothes that Bill had been carrying in packs up until now. Once everyone was ready they began their slow ascent.

Though they made good speed at first, it wasn't long before the road became narrow, steep and twisty. There were many parts where the road had faded to nothing, or that it was blocked from fallen stones and boulders. The solid clouds made everything dark and gloomy, and the bitter wind seemed to surround the company and crawl over their skin, despite how thick their clothing was. And as time wore on, it began to snow – lightly at first and then becoming so heavy that you couldn't even see two feet in front of you. Even Gimli, as stout a dwarf as any you could meet, was grumbling by the time the fellowship had decided to make camp long after nightfall.

The hobbits huddled together behind Bill for whatever minimal protection he could offer, trying to ignore their leaden and frozen feet buried in the ankle-deep snow. The others tried to build and light a fire, realizing that in this snow-storm that not only was it unlikely that any fire would be spotted through the thick snowfall, but they may be frozen to death if they don't find some warmth in the night. Unfortunately, each time someone tried to make a fire, the flames would last only a moment before sputtering and dying due to the strong wind, heavy snowfall and increasingly damp wood. Iri was able to control the fire enough so that it wouldn't sputter and die, be he knew that it was only a matter of time before he became too tired to keep it up. Finally Gandalf decided to forgo caution and added his own brand of magic to keep the fire going merrily for the rest of the night, much to the company's pleasure.

"Well there is no use worrying about spies now," Gandalf stated after making sure that the fire would last the night "I may have well written a giant sign that reads 'Gandalf is here' which can be read from Rivendell to the mouths of Anduin." But the rest of the fellowship no longer cared if their position was now given to the Enemy thanks to Gandalf's magic – they now had a warm fire to rest beside and that was all that mattered.

The next morning the fellowship set out again, but thankfully the snowstorm seemed to have ended for the moment, though dark clouds still loomed overhead promising another storm to come. By late afternoon the company had made good progress and despite their numb and exhausted bodies continued onward. It was during a climb along a straight and wide portion of the path that Frodo slipped and tumbled a few meters back down the incline, where Aragorn who was bringing up the rear, was able to catch hold of him and prevent him from falling even further down the path. Frodo stood up, feeling a little dizzy but mainly alright. While checking to see if everything in order, Frodo noticed that the Ring which he always wore on a chain around his neck was no longer there.

The hobbit tried to push down his rising panic (and the reasons as to why he felt so panicked and bereft without the Ring's solid presence against his skin) and desperately looked around to see where it had fallen to. It wasn't long before he noticed that Boromir's attention was fixed on something in the snow further up the path were he had originally fallen. It took even less time to realize that the object Boromir was so captivated by was the Ring.

The heir to the Steward of Gondor held up the Ring by the fine chain that looped through it, transfixed by the way the light gleamed and reflected off of it, making the powerful and perilous object seem innocent and inviting. "It's a strange fate to suffer so much fear and doubt for so small a thing….such a little thing…." Boromir mumbled, completely oblivious to the world around him and the ranger trying to gain his attention. Still involved in his little world where all that existed was himself and the Ring, Boromir began to subconsciously reach out towards the Ring itself.

"Boromir!"

Aragorn's shout brought the Gondorian back to earth so abruptly that Boromir's grasping hand missed the Ring entirely and he stumbled a little.

"Give the Ring to Frodo." Aragorn instructed, noticing that Boromir was once again aware of his surroundings. But even though the ranger's words may have seemed like a request, no one failed to miss the fact that it was in fact an order; an order that promised swift retribution if it was not carried out.

Boromir took a moment to further center himself and then slowly made his way towards the young hobbit. With more reluctance than he thought he'd have, the Gondorian captain handed out the Ring which Frodo took no time snatching back. Boromir tried to push away his unease – both about his reluctance of being separated by the Ring and the sudden resentfulness it caused towards the hobbit bearing it. Not to mention his concern about the fact that he, the best warrior of Gondor, was so transfixed by a small piece of jewelry that he had been completely oblivious to his surroundings. Trying to get rid of his unbalanced feelings and convince the others (as well as himself) that no harm was done and everything was fine, he tousled Frodo's hair and turned his back to the Ring and its bearer, continuing his way up the mountain and pretending as if nothing had happened.

Had he turned back, he would have seen Aragorn's hand relaxing from the hilt of his sword.

It was the next morning that the impending storm hit; no one could see a foot in front of them and the wind howled and tore at them mercilessly. Gandalf led the way along the narrow path, forging a trench through the hip-deep snow using his body and his staff. Legolas was the envy of the rest of the company as he walked upon the snow as easily as if it were paved road, leaving no footprints and seemingly unperturbed by the wind, snow and freezing temperature. While Iri could just as easily walk on the snow leaving no marks, the weather and temperature affected him as much as the others, and therefore he opted to join them in the trench to soak up as much warmth and protection the trench walls and the others' body-heat would grant him instead of traveling beside or in front of the others with the blond elf.

Among the howling wind the Mirkwood elf noticed a foreign voice – one that spoke with ill intentions. "There is a foul voice in the air!" he notified the others.

It wasn't long before the voice gained in strength and volume, enough so the others' were able to hear it and Gandalf recognized it. "It's Saruman!"

No sooner did Gandalf exclaim the perpetrator than a large bolt of lightning hit the mountain above them, making a small avalanche of snow and rock rain down upon the fellowship.

"He's trying to bring down the mountain! Gandalf, we must turn back!" Aragorn yelled, hoping to spare them of any catastrophes.

"We cannot stay here!" Boromir agreed "This will be the death of the hobbits!" It was a statement that seemed increasingly true when observing the pale and shivering forms which didn't even have shoes to warm and protect their feet from the cold snow.

"No!" Gandalf replied, standing up to counter the white wizard's magic. Iri could feel the magic crackling in the air, as Gandalf's and Saruman's deep voices intoned spells in a language few remember, each trying to overpower the other. The build-up of combating magic seemed to reach a standstill until another bolt of lightening struck the mountain once again, creating a larger downpour of rock and snow. The company desperately threw themselves away from the edge and towards the wall of the mountain, hoping to avoid the worst of the avalanche as large boulders and snow ripped off parts of the path and covered the rest of the small ledge they were on.

When the avalanche subsided the fellowship struggled to reach the surface and helped unbury those still under the heavy amount of snow. It was clear to everyone that pursuing this course would be the death of them all.

It wasn't even an hour later that the company began their descent of the mountain. Caradhras had defeated them.

And thus ends another chapter. Only a few more chapters of The Fellowship, and The Two Towers should start chapter 18.

Sorry for the long wait; I'll try and have the next chapter done sooner.