Author's Note: What is the Middle-earth equivalent of the phrase:
Out of the frying pan and into the fire...?


Chapter XXV
Wolf Council

The chill wind chased them down from the mountain, but no other threat accompanied the fellowship as they made their descent. They were all very weary, but moved on slowly while the grey light lasted, looking for a place to rest that would offer them some shelter against the coming night.

Legolas walked at the rear, his ears and eyes still open for any sign of a threat. The icy claws of panic he had felt, after the avalanche had released him, but now his nerves were on a knife's edge. He groped after the memory of the sunlight on distant fields to warm his spirit as he walked, hoping that it would last through the night until he could look upon Her face again. Somehow, the portent of this night seemed more threatening and darker than any he remembered, and even the memories of two millennia of sunrises was insufficient to lighten the wood elf's soul.

Legolas had lived with dangers all his life, dwelling in the deep forest of Mirkwood where the beautiful trees were home to creatures such that hobbits and men might regard as legends or myths. Many times he had faced death or pain, but always his trust in himself and his ability had brought him through.

But this was different; he was far from the familiar trees, far from aid or solace. And his companions were not Elves, but men and halflings and a dwarf, and they had all just narrowly escaped death. Freezing, falling, being crushed by stones or tripped into the void-- it mattered not that Legolas did not fear these things for himself. The further they moved from the peak, the better Legolas felt, though there was still a nagging anxiety plucking at his senses. He shook his head; he was wearier than he had been for many long years!

Ahead of him, Pippin lagged behind the rest of the group. The littlest halfling stumbled, seeming unaware of the tears of exhaustion leaking down his cheeks. Legolas moved to his side and offered his hands to him. Pippin took one of his hands; he could not have stood back up without the Elf's support.

Legolas dropped down on one knee beside him. "We still have a short ways to go, Master Peregrin. If you will consent I will carry you. Surely Gandalf will find a place for us to rest soon."

"Please," Pippin's voice was a mere whisper, "I don't want to slow everyone down further. But you are tired, too, Legolas; do not carry me, but if you don't mind I could use the guidance of your hand in this growing darkness."

Legolas held firm to Pippin's hand as they walked, and indeed the halfling grew steadier and did not stumble again. Their shorter paces drew them apart from the rest of the company, but only by a few yards. Gandalf looked back but said nothing. Sam was clinging to Bill's rope, muttering under his breath. Merry walked on one side of the pony's flank, keeping one hand on Bill's warm, thick coat to steady himself. Frodo was walking with his head bowed, and Aragorn stayed near him, making sure that the weary halfling did not stagger off of the path. Boromir and Gimli walked in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. The wizard led them down the path toward a hillock where some trees made a crowning silhouette before the last embers of sunset.

Pippin looked up at his tall companion. The Elf's warm hand heartened him, and feeling a measure of his former cheerfulness come back over him, he said, "I am very tired, but I am glad that we are away from that place! I don't think that any of us hobbits would have lasted much longer up there on that mountain. Thank you for pulling us out of the snow. And for finding Frodo."

Legolas glanced down at Pippin and gave him a touch of a smile. "I did but a small part, Master Peregrin. Give your thanks rather to Boromir and Aragorn, whose strength made the way of escape possible."

"Oh, but you did a lot, too!" Pippin tried to walk quicker, but the effort made him puff for breath. Legolas slowed their steps again. "You did a lot," Pippin continued, when he had caught his wind again. "You came back! And when you spoke of seeing the sun, it was like I could see it, too. I wanted to go and see it, and that gave me strength to try harder. I wish the sun could have stayed up a little longer. It was nice to see after all that snow and darkness."

Legolas had been listening to the wind's hinting murmur, but something that the hobbit said had caught his attention. "Of course I returned." Legolas cocked his head and looked closely at Pippin's face. "Did you truly think that I would not?"

"I hoped that you would. I was afraid when Strider and Boromir went down the path-- that something would happen to them that they couldn't come back." Pippin lowered his voice. His face was reddened by the burn of the wind, but Legolas noted that there was also a flush of shame there. "I wanted to be brave... to help Frodo... but I was scared. And when you left, too, I was afraid that you wouldn't come back. Gimli seemed to think that we would see you no more."

At Pippin's words, the small glow of warmth within Legolas seemed to go out, like an unshielded candle-flame in a draft. He said nothing, letting Pippin chatter on softly as they walked, keeping a steadying grip on his small hand, but his mind was churning with emotions reawakened.

So the Dwarf had thought he would abandon the Quest, just because of a little snow and ice? How dare he say so!

But hand in hand with his anger came another feeling, that nagging doubt of self that recalled the failings of his duties. 'It is right that they do not trust you, Legolas,' said a nagging voice in his mind. 'Did you not let Smeágol escape? What of your word to your King-father?'

A wave of miserable despair crept over the Elf's heart when he thought of Thranduil. How he would like to speak to him at this time and touch his wisdom once more!

Something of Legolas's distress must have shown on his face. Pippin fell silent and clutched his hand, drawing Legolas to a halt. The halfling must have realized that he had said something to cause upset, because he looked the Elf straight in the eye and said, "Don't be mad at us, Legolas. We were just afraid. We all show our fear differently; that is what Cousin Bilbo told me once. He said that fear can freeze you or fire you up; freeze you in place so you can't do anything, or fire you up so that you can do what you never thought you could. It was just so cold up on that mountain that we were freezing instead of firing. I feel better now," he added softly, as if he hoped that would cheer Legolas again.

Legolas looked down at him, this time in surprise. He could sense something-- something light as the touch of a sunbeam on the face and gentle as the taste of pollen on the wind-- and it was emanating from the halfling walking at his side. His despair was reduced in an instant and a smile came to his tired face. Pippin grinned up at him and began to walk forward again, but his toes caught on a stone in the path.

Legolas caught him as he tripped, then swung him up onto one of his shoulders in a smooth, fluid motion. "Can you keep a secret, my chattering halfling friend?" he said.

"I can. I promise!" Pippin whispered eagerly, taking delight that he must look down to see Legolas's face.

"I was afraid, too," the Elf confessed.

"But— you are never afraid! You ran right through that avalanche to save Merry and me!"

"I have been afraid many times," Legolas said. "In Imladris I feared for your cousin's life, for I have no skills in healing and could do nothing to help. And up on the pass I felt fear again, because no matter how swift I can run or how true my arrows my fly, I could not hold back the wind and snow." Legolas rolled his shoulder so that Pippin was bounced upward lightly, causing the halfling to emit a slight giggle. "So I am glad to have come down from the mountain, too. And I am glad that I brought you up out of the snow, for I have grown fond of your cheerful disposition, Peregrin Took. You lighten my heart."

He lifted the halfling down gently, setting him on his own feet again, and they continued to walk after the others, still hand in hand, through the growing dusk.

Gandalf led them to the base of a hill, where they all slumped down to rest their aching feet and legs. It was a few moments before anyone moved at all; they sat and breathed and stared up at the darkening sky, or down at the ground below their feet. Gandalf brought out his leathern flask and passed it around once again. The light flavour of the miruvor brought some life back to them, and the hobbits realized how hungry they were. They took out some of the food they carried and broke their fast as the stars appeared meekly in the clearing sky.

Now came the time for talk, and once again anxiety settled on Legolas. He listened to Gandalf's words and although he trusted the Wizard's counsel, the Elf's heart shuddered when mention was made of taking the road through Moria. Not once had that possibility entered his mind, when he had sat in Rivendell musing on this journey. The Redhorn pass, the Gap of Rohan, even the long southern journey along the wide coast of the Bay of Belfalas he had considered, but never the Black Pit!

There is a deep pool of thought that Elves draw their wisdom from, and in that pool are memories that belong to another time, to others who lived long ago when the shape of Middle-earth was other than it is now. Dark things stirred in the fathoms of Legolas's mind while he listened to the others speak of the Dwarrowdelf. The doors are shut! They will not open! Black fire swept the land and an entire city of Elves was destroyed. Beyond the granite walls of Moria the Dwarves remained safe; they came not to the aid of the Elves... not even to bury the dead.

Legolas blinked, realizing that Boromir had said his name aloud. The debate had reached a vote: Who would follow Gandalf if he led them to Moria's hidden gate and into the darkness therein?

Gimli, of course, was eager to go; he believed in his heart that he would find word there of his cousin Balin. Aragorn agreed to try, but his acquiescence was coloured by a warning most dire—a warning for Gandalf himself. Boromir was against entering Moria, and the hobbits were all reluctant, but only two had spoken against that road; Frodo and Merry had said nothing yet.

Legolas could feel the eyes of the company upon him. Softly and without raising his head, he said, "I do not wish to go to Moria." The feelings of fear inside him were blinding, and he felt as vulnerable and helpless as he had ever felt, not since he was a child a very long time ago. He did not want to go that way, and yet there was no other way to go. They could not approach the Fords of Isen, and the other road was too long and would take them even further from what little aid there was to be found.

Legolas watched a similar struggle take place on Frodo's face, for as Ring-Bearer the burden of the final decision was his. Coupled with his other burden, it was a heavy weight indeed. Legolas did not envy Frodo nor did he resent the Bearer's desire to postpone the vote until morning, when after sleep other paths might be seen more clearly.

Wrapped in these thoughts, Legolas slowly became aware of a noise. He stiffened even as Frodo made mention of the howling of the wind. Aragorn leapt to his feet, a fraction faster than the Elf. "'How the wind howls'? It is howling with wolf-voices. The Wargs have come west of the Mountians!"

Now the companions were beset by another dire danger, but instead of dread or panic such as he had experienced upon the snows of Caradhras, Legolas felt a wave of determination and strength return to him. His bow felt good in his hands, the string taunt and ready to sing. His eyes were sharp and his weariness fell from him like an unneeded cloak. Here was an enemy that could be fought with skill and with courage. Fear left him, for he had no room for it in his heart at a time such as this.