How long did they wander in the dark forests of Mirkwood? Elsa certainly couldn't tell; one could barely discern a change of light, and any increase in darkness could easily be ascribed to having entered a part in the forest where the trees had simply grown thicker. It was almost enough to make her believe that day and night had become one in this bizarre place, and that time had ceased to exist. It certainly didn't help the travelers on their journey; remembering the dangers that Beorn and Gandalf had cited, Thorin refused to let the company rest for any longer than he felt necessary. Elsa understood his reasons, but she was sure there were other causes for wanting to keep going; the trees around them had grown so huge and tangled together, making her feel claustrophobic, while they were forced to breathe in the stale and humid air still tinged with the smell of death and decay. No birdsong could be heard, even that of crows; only the echoes of the dwarves arguing amongst themselves kept running through the trees. It was like being in a dank cave…and Elsa wanted no more than to be out.

Thus far, the company had maintained success in keeping to the Elven Path, with Dwalin or Thorin thumping their staffs on the ground every now and then to make sure of it, or when they came across a fork in the road. In addition, Elsa walked behind the company and left a trail of frost along the edge of the path, allowing them to turn around and check where they were going every now and then. The fact that, oftentimes, the road seemed determined to throw them off made that a constant; it took them through twists and turns under, over, and around things, while occasionally some log or stone blocked their path, requiring them to climb over it. There seemed to be no end to it, and the forest around them just kept becoming more and more sinister; large cobwebs even marked parts of the path.

Along the way, Bofur called out from up ahead, "We've found the bridge!" But when they came up to see it, there was barely anything left to call a bridge; the middle section had collapsed into the dark, mist-shrouded water a long time ago.

"We could try swimming across it," Bofur suggested.

"Have you so swiftly forgotten, dear Bofur, whom we have with us?" Thorin said as he looked towards Elsa.

"You don't have to ask me twice," she said as she stepped forward. Feeling somewhat useful again, she cast forth her magic and bridged the gap with her ice (and added a handrail for good measure). With no small sigh of relief, the company moved forward across the bridge…only to stop halfway, by none other than Thorin himself.

She looked in the direction his hardened stare had gone, and a good ways off, there stood a stag coated in fur of pure white shining in the gloom of the forest. She found it to be just utterly beautiful, probably the most beautiful thing she had seen thus far in this place…

But then, an arrow whizzed by, startling the stag and causing it to bolt away from them in the trees. Saddened, she looked over and saw that Thorin's hand laid on his bow, showing the signs that he had loosed that arrow.

"Why did you do that?" she asked.

"You shouldn't have done that," Bilbo said, "It's bad luck."

"We make our own luck," Thorin countered.

Suddenly, something cracked behind them, followed by a heavy splash. They turned to see Bombur lying in the stream surrounded by chunks of ice railing, fast asleep and snoring away.

Fortunately they were able to extract him from out of the water, careful as not to touch the water, and drag him to the other side, where Elsa froze and dried away the wet stream. But still he did not wake up, forcing them, for the time being, to carry him upon a stretcher, an effort that took four of their number to do.

On and on the company went, deeper and deeper into the forest and carrying the heavy weight of Bombur upon their shoulders. Sometime along their way, things began to get strange; once or twice, Elsa noticed that, as twisted as the forest was, it somehow began to be more twisted and gnarled, but she dismissed this. Time passed, and she turned her head to look behind, and could've sworn that there was one more dwarf in their party than usual.

Still, they kept walking. Elsa began to feel her head spin, and found it harder to keep on her feet without stumbling. In her state, she could see similar effects on the others; Ori, for example, kept spinning around while they went, and Bilbo kept staring at nothing as if there was something there.

All along the way, the cobwebs grew larger and thicker as well.

Suddenly, Dwalin halted the entire company. "We've lost it," he said, "We've lost the path!"

"How did we lose it?" Nori asked, "Haven't we been keeping track of it?"

"That's right," Glóin said. He turned to Elsa and asked her, "Elsa, you've been leaving a trail for us, right?"

But Elsa didn't hear a word the dwarves were saying. She heard things on the wind…the sound of a child's voice whispering to her in the night….

"Do you want to build a snowman?"

After waving his hand in front of her for a bit, Glóin shrugged and turned to the group, saying, "She seems pretty out of it. I'm not getting anything out of her."

They sent Ori to check the path behind them, but he swiftly returned and reported, "I can't find any ice at all along the path! She must have stopped casting some time ago!"

"Well, how long ago was THAT?" Óin grumbled. No one could say for sure.

Bilbo had a very hard time thinking straight, and the arguing dwarves around him did not help at all. There had to be a way out of this mess, and they needed to find it; just earlier, Bilbo had been seeing double of himself, goodness only knew how that was possible.

After finally admitting they were lost, Thorin said, "We need to get our directions straightened. Someone is going to have to go up there," he pointed up towards the canopy, "and have a look around, figure out which way is where."

Bilbo had the suspicion that they would've have volunteered him anyway, so he set about climbing the tree himself. With two of the dwarves hoisting him up, Bilbo managed to grab the nearest branch and, having in mind the many times he had climbed the old oak in his youth, made his way up towards the top. The further up he went, the cleaner and fresher the air seemed to be, and his mind seemed to become clearer as a result of it. At last, he could see places where the sunlight broke through the thick leaves and branches, and he moved for it like a bee to a flower. His head broke through first, and he took in a deep breath of fresh, clean air, as if he had come up out of the water. It was an apt comparison to say the very least; all around him was a veritable sea of autumn red leaves that rippled in waves as the wind blew by. Up above, the sky was decked in rosy colors as the sun began to set in the west. West…where home was, Bilbo thought. Thoughts of Bag End came to mind, with its warm hearth, soft bed, and old books…

Suddenly, a large swarm of purple and blue butterflies burst into the air around him in a flurry of wings, and flew towards a distant island in this ocean of foliage…wait, an island? Realizing what it truly was, it was enough to make him shed a tear or two.

"I can see the mountain!" he called out below, "We're almost there! We've just got to keep heading east!"

But no reply came. Instead, Bilbo noticed a chill wind moving in the trees below, and bringing with it a flurry of snowflakes. That couldn't be right; autumn had barely started…

Elsa, he realized. Something's wrong.

She held the limp body of her sister in her arms, scared and alone, crying for help, any help. Surely Mama and Papa could help; they had been able to fix any problem…

They did come…but there was fear and accusation in their eyes as they stared down at her. "Elsa," her father asked quietly, "What have you done?"

"I'm sorry," she whispered, "I didn't mean to…"

Her parents were replaced by other voices, other faces, other feelings…

There is great danger in your powers Elsa…

Fear will be your enemy…

Conceal it, don't feel it…

"I can't," she cried, "It's getting stronger, I can't conceal it!"

New faces began to surround her; faces filled with fear, hate, callousness, all of them staring down at her, yelling, screaming, crying….

"Please, stay away," she begged, "I don't want to hurt you!"

Their voices were inaudible, a blur of murmuring and wailing, but there was one word she heard above all the rest:

MONSTER.

"No, please," she sobbed, "I'm not a monster! I'm just trying to protect you…"

A dark shadowy figure rose up before her, staring down at her with eyes of red fire, and spoke to her in a horrible, soul-wrenching voice.

"You are right, Elsa of Arendelle. You're not a monster. You are merely a coward."

By the time Bilbo made his way down to the forest floor, a winter storm was already at hand; bitter winds whipped by at high speed, ripping off leaves and twigs off of branches and covering the trunks and branches in white snow. Elsa lay at the center of it all; the wind whirled around her in a vortex as she knelt on the ground, covering her face in her hands.

Bilbo leapt down onto the ground from the trees, failing to see that the dwarves had gone missing. "Elsa!" he cried, deafened by the roar of the wind and blinded by the stinging cold, "Elsa! Listen to me! You've got to stop this!"

Did she hear him? He certainly couldn't say for certain; he could barely hear himself in this wind.

He pushed against the biting cold, pressing forward to her, only knowing that he had to get to her. With every step he took, the wind only seemed to increase in strength, and the temperature continued to drop.

"Elsa," he shouted, "I don't know what it is you're seeing, but it's NOT REAL! It's all that enchantment that Gandalf talked about, don't you remember? You can fight it!"

Drawing closer and fighting to ignore the growing numbness in his legs and face, he could hear her saying something under her breath; it sounded to him like, "Monster," and "coward."

"Elsa," he started, "I know you're stronger than this. You can beat this. I've seen you do great—no, amazing things, so many times. You are not a monster, and you are certainly NOT a coward."

There was one last thing he could try, one last thing to snap her out of it…something she had probably never heard in a long time, and certainly something he never expected himself to say.

"Elsa," he started, "I l…"

But then a huge gust of cold wind lifted the hobbit off of his feet and blew him into the air, crashing through tree branches, and knocking his head on a limb, putting him out cold…

Elsa felt the world around her become dark and silent, the voices dying away, and a heavy fog wash over her. Deeper and deeper she began to sink, not knowing where she was going, but welcome to the idea of oblivion taking her away…

Don't give up, Elsa, a voice said. We're counting on you.

It seemed like ages before Elsa came to her senses again; she felt something pulling her, tugging at her leg. Slowly her hearing returned to her, and she heard voices…

"The ice spirit is dead, I say! Dead and cold! No good for feasting."

"But see! It still breathes; there must be good juices inside."

"It's too skinny to have the good juices! Not like the dwarves we've snatched up! No good juices, no good juices, just dead and frozen! Not good for feasting."

"I say there IS good juices inside! It IS good for feasting!"

Slowly Elsa's vision became clear. She could see the light above, and the boughs of the trees covered in snow…and things crawling across them.

Something jerked on her ankle again. Raising her head off of the ground, she saw some white, silvery threads wrapped around her ankle. Following the line, she saw the end being held in the claws of a spider large enough to tackle a horse to the ground. Another one sat next to it, and both of them were drooling out of their hideous mandibles as they spoke to each other in harsh chattering voices.

Suddenly regaining all thought through the desire to live (that or a newborn phobia), she kicked and yanked her foot out of the spider's pull. The two arachnids jumped in surprise.

"It's still alive!" one chattered.

"See? See? I told you there were good juices inside!" the other replied.

"Snatch it and wrap it," its companion replied, "before it flees!"

Thinking fast she cast a bolt of frost at the foul creatures, blinding them and sending them away screaming. But then she heard chattering and hissing all around her; in a spin, she saw several other spiders crawling out of the brush or along the branches up above. One of the spiders leapt at her off of the snow-covered trunk of a tree; instinctively, she raised razor sharp icicles toward it, and it impaled itself on the ice. A far larger one charged from behind, but Elsa didn't raise an ice shield in time; it threw her to the ground. Grabbing it by the legs, it took all of her strength to lift it away from her body. It swished its fang-tipped mandibles at her, desiring her blood, and flicking its saliva all over the place. A layer of frost began to grow onto the spider's leg, causing it to shriek in pain. Gathering her strength, Elsa kicked the creature off of her—unfortunately keeping its frozen legs, which she promptly cast aside.

But even with their casualties, the other spiders continued to move forward. Realizing she couldn't stay in one place without getting overwhelmed, Elsa began to run, casting frost bolts at the spiders. Undeterred, the creatures followed her, hunger driving them on.

She ran through a particularly dark part of the forest, the trees here being covered in vast shimmering webs and crawling with more of the vermin. It seemed like a never-ending fight for Elsa as she went; as many spiders as she was able to fend off with icicle spears or freeze in place, more seemed to arrive in their ranks.

Fortunately, salvation came in the form of a dirt hidden beneath a large fallen log; after freezing the immediate spiders pursuing her, Elsa dived underneath the log (glad to find that nothing was hiding beneath there as well), and watched from a peephole of sorts as other spiders arrived on the scene.

"Where is it?" one spider hissed, "where is the cold spirit?"

"Can't be far," another chattered, "Can't be far at all."

"It must have magic juices in it," another mused, "If we feast on it, then do we get the magic in its juices?"

Before the other could answer, it dropped dead, the shaft of an arrow sticking out between its multiple eyes. The others shrieked, raising their forearms in defense at some unseen enemy. Elsa watched in awe as two elves in green and brown leaped onto the scene and dispatched the rest of the spiders with unmatched fluidity and grace, using nothing but a bow and arrow and a pair of daggers between the two of them.

After a few moments, the two of them noticed the ice formations left behind by Elsa in her flight. They spoke to each other in the same fluid language that Elsa heard back in Rivendell between Elrond and Gandalf, and while she still didn't understand a word of it, she was certain she could understand the meaning; no doubt they were questioning where all the ice and snow had come from.

She started to move out of her hiding place, but then a voice whispered, "No Elsa, wait!" In her surprise she turned to see Bilbo, looking somewhat bruised and covered in spider-webs. She started to speak, but then the hobbit silenced her, saying, "Don't speak, or they'll hear you!"

For two intense minutes, they watched as the two elves debated in their foreign tongue. Then, they seemed to come to an agreement, and ran out of sight. With that, Elsa and Bilbo sighed in relief.

"It's good to see you in one place," Bilbo said to her.

"What happened?" she asked. "I don't remember much."

"You don't?"

"No…but I do remember being very afraid."

"Well, that explains the snowstorm."

"Snowstorm…was that me?"

He nodded, and then went on to explain all that had happened after Elsa's storm; he had woken up to find himself and the dwarves all wrapped up in the webs of the huge spiders. After cutting himself out and engaging the spiders with his sword (which he afterwards named Sting), he went on to free the dwarves from their silken prisons, but was separated again from them after some new spiders caught him in the act and attacked.

"But why are we hiding?" Elsa asked, "Those were Elves."

"When I went to find you and the dwarves again," Bilbo explained, "those elves had taken them all prisoner."

"You're kidding," she said. She then sighed, and leaned back against the earthen wall, saying, "This is completely my fault. If I hadn't lost control back there…if I hadn't…"

"No Elsa, it's alright," Bilbo replied, "I think those spiders certainly would have attacked anyway, snowstorm or no snowstorm. Besides, to be fair, Gandalf did say there are some strange enchantments in this wood; I think we were all out of our minds for a bit."

"But what are we supposed to do?" she asked.

"Well," he said, "I know where they've gone, and I think I've got a pretty good plan for how to save Thorin and the others."

"You do?"

"Yes…but I don't think you're going to like it very much."