I thought the foothills were bad, but the farther up the mountains I went, the more I realized "bad" was like a fluffy bunny. One time I looked back, and I couldn't see Frodo anymore. I couldn't see any of the Hobbits.
"Frodo!"
"I'm here!" I could just see his hand above the snow.
"Just stay there!"
When I reached him, I started to take off the cloak.
"No, you need it more!" Frodo argued.
"Are you joking? Your lips are blue! You put on the cloak, and I'll carry you. Then we can both wear it."
"What about the others?"
"I already thought of that."
Once Frodo was on my back, I caught up with Aragorn and Boromir, asking them to carry the other three Hobbits. Rocks and snow fell off of the mountain, almost hitting us.
"What is this..." I whispered. A few seconds later, about five feet of snow buried us. As I started to suffocate, I felt someone pull me roughly to the surface. So roughly, in fact, that Frodo lost his grip on my shoulder. It was Boromir that had pulled me up, and once he saw that Frodo was still in the snow, he pulled Frodo up, too.
"We should make for the Gap of Rohan!" Aragorn shouted.
"We go through Moria!" Gimli argued.
"Lets the ring-bearer decide," Gandalf determined.
Frodo hesitated before saying, "We shall go through the mines."
"So be it."