A/N: Plot development! And hopefully you shall realize why I hate Lizzie so much! No dialog in this chapter, so sorry to all of you skimmers. XD you'll just have to read it now, won't you? Oh, and REVIEW! I love to hear about what you guys think of the development of the chapters. Tell me if there's a special scene or a trait that you want to see in any of the girls. :D Enjoy, Adoring Readers!

Disclaimer: Don't Own Nutin.

Everything, everywhere was snowy white and bitterly cold. Frosty winds whipped around the twelve members of the Fellowship, cutting cruelly into any inch of unprotected skin. Icy daggers sliced into Sam's cheeks; when she rubbed her eyes, pink smears came away on her fingertips. The ice was literally making her bleed. Her teeth were chattering loudly, and she tried to lock her jaw so as not to show her weakness, but it was no use. She had never felt this cold before in her life. What wasn't numb was becoming dangerously warm, such as the tips of her toes. The only parts of her that were actually cold were her fingertips, which were jammed beneath her arms. Her whole body was shivering noisily as she staggered behind them, clinging desperately to Bill the Pony. Ahead of her, she saw a glimpse of Amy's flaming red hair and saw her collapse in the snow, sinking up to her waist in a snowdrift. Gimli knelt down and pulled her back up, helping her climb back to her feet. Amy's lips were blue and her face was shockingly white and deathly pale. Sam supposed she must look the same way, but at the moment she could not think of how she must look, because her brain was frozen. Sluggishly they inched along, and she was thought she was about to give up and sag to the ground when she saw Aragorn doubling back for her. On his back was Merry, who seemed in a state of half-consciousness. Without saying anything - the howling winds would have whipped away his words before they reached Sam's ears - he shrugged himself out of his outer cloak. Sam knew he would be terrifyingly cold before a minute was through, but she accepted it gratefully. The thick, warm oilskin cloak swallowed her completely, covering her from chin to ankle, and when she donned the hood, some of the sharp winds were deflected. She saw him slump forward, trying to hide the pocket of warm air he had so jealously stored as he trudged up the mountainside. Sam's brain was too cold to even think of how grateful she was, or how shameful she felt by taking his cloak. But eventually, she didn't care; the cloak was keeping her alive, if only for now.

Lizzie stumbled for yet the fifth time, crying out weakly as she tumbled into the snow. She coughed up icy particles as she tried to pull herself from the drift with painstakingly slow progress, until she felt a pair of strong arms yank her upwards. She was pulled protectively against a broad, muscular chest, and she inhaled the heady aroma of the masculine musk which she always associated with Boromir. His cloak was thrown tightly around the two of them, and the went forward, Lizzie completely and thoroughly unaware of the effect she was having on him. He had never seen such a dainty feminine creature such as herself, and even her casually flippant gestures were driving him wild. She heard the steady beat of his heart in his broad chest and she snuggled against him. Had he not already been struggling so much with the drifts, she would have made him carry her. Her blonde hair had been tucked into her shirt in an attempt to keep it untangled, but it half of it had fallen out in the heavy, piercing winds. She buried her cold face in his collar and tried to fight back the waves of nausea that were rapidly swelling in her stomach. It took her a few minutes to realize that Boromir had stopped, and when she did look up she felt something move. A vibrating sensation was thrumming somewhere close, and she could feel the mountain literally tremble beneath her feet as they held each other tightly. Dimly she heard Legolas roaring something about a fell voice in the air, but she was too tired and sleepy to pay any attention to it. Then there was a rushing, booming noise as something very similar to lightning cracked through the air.

Half of the mountain collapsed on top of them, showering them with a deluge of snow, packed ice, and rock. Amy felt herself being pummeled by frosty snow, and she was laid flat out against the hard-packed ground as the mountain fell upon the Fellowship. She felt as though she were underwater, and she remembered trying to claw her way to the surface. But everything was suddenly warm and she was so sleepy. It would be really wise, she decided, to take a quick nap. Just a short one, to rest up before they trudged on. Even if her brain had realized that this was the first onset of hypothermia, she wouldn't have cared. Everything was too warm and comforting… rather like a soft, downy blanket. Instead of tearing her way to the surface, her limbs slowed and she stopped fighting the waves of exhaustion. Walking all day in the wind and snow had worn her out, and this was the perfect … place … for a nice, long … nap. She felt someone pull her arm roughly, felt nails dig into her skin as she was forcibly yanked upwards. The brief flash of momentary pain as she was pulled agonizingly slowly from the snowdrift melted as she was slapped into a drowsy state of consciousness. She saw Legolas's face above her, saw those sparkling blue eyes … damn, he had nice eyes … but his voice was abnormally slow and thick, although he were speaking to her through several large mattresses, or a well filled with chocolate pudding. Then the sensation of deeper pain, harsher and more bright this time, located in the vicinity of her knee. She arched her back and her eyelashes, almost frosted together, snapped open as her chest ballooned with air. Legolas helped her stand, and she realized he had nearly bruised her kneecap as he tried to wake her.

Lizzie was one of the first atop the snowdrift, mostly because Boromir had propelled her to the surface quite quickly. In an amazingly selfless act that she wouldn't have thought of two weeks ago, she began digging in the snow trying to find survivors. All that kept flashing through her head were all the TV shows she had watched about avalanches. Obviously, this hadn't been a normal avalanche, because none of them had shouted or made a loud noise, but she didn't care about that right now. She remembered from somewhere that if someone stayed submerged in a pile of snow for more then ten minutes they died slowly. She wasn't sure if it was right, but she wasn't paying attention to the voice in the back of her mind right now. A thin Hobbit face came into view, and she realized it was one of Sam's best friends, that dwarfish thingy called Frodo. She pulled him by the front of his shirt as she hauled him to the surface, and as she did so, something fell out onto the snow. Something that sparkled. And something that sparkled quite prettily against the backdrop of snow. It was a ring of sorts, nothing special if you just glanced at it, a simple band of beaten gold. It could have been on any proud newlywed's hand, but it was uncut and very plain if you only glanced at it. But Lizzie was giving it the most attention she had given anything in her life, because this ring was special. She was sure of that now.

Moreover, the ring was talking to her.

Oh, not in words that she recognized, but some gutturally thick speech that somehow she could understand. The ring was quite simply asking her who she was, and then it said, in the sweetest and most irresistible voice she had heard in her life, to put her on her finger. Come on, the ring cajoled nicely, I just want to see if I fit. A pretty finger like yours should be adorned with much more beautiful rings than I, but I'll have to do, now won't I? Lizzie gripped the ring in her hands, feeling the chain that was attached to it loop around her fingers. She let the chain fall through her fingers a few times, never taking her blue eyes - now very frightening looking and strangely hollow - off of the gold band that was whispering seductively in her heart. Oh, how sensible it would be if she put that ring on! And come to think of it, Sam and Amy weren't wearing any jewelry, were they? They would be positively green with jealousy when they saw such a pretty ring like this. And somehow, in the back of her mind, she knew that something good, something really good would happen if she put it on her finger. And she realized she had never wanted anything so much as she wanted this ring. She wanted it to be hers. Come to think of it, she had just saved Frodo's life, hadn't she? So he owed her something, didn't he? Her soul was doing some very strange flips as she caressed the smooth metal surface, feeling it, tasting it, wanting nothing more then to possess it entirely…

It was yanked out of her hands sharply by a pair of grubby fingers. She snapped back to attention and saw Frodo staring at her like she had just slaughtered a goat with her bare hands in front of his very eyes. For a minute, an insane wave of pure hatred washed over her as she saw the ring in his hands. How dare he! How dare he just snatch it from her like that! Didn't he know who she was? She was Elizabeth Thompson, and he was only Frodo Baggins, the miserable little wench! She had a powerful urge to wrestle it out of his hands had Boromir not appeared at her shoulder and begun talking to her. She was dazed, her mind still over in Frodo's hands as she remembered the silky feeling of the ring against her palms. Boromir snapped his fingers in front of her, then gave up and simply slung her over her shoulder. Lizzie let out a protesting yell as he carried her back to the group, but it was muffled by his cloak and the high winds.

The Fellowship huddled together with the Hobbits and the girls in the center. Sam was doing her best to appear strong, but it was very hard to appear strong when she was leaning up against Gandalf as she fought to keep her eyes open. They were shouting something, discussing something in loud voices, and eventually Frodo - who was glaring mistrustfully at Lizzie for some reason - voiced his opinion. Sam's ears were still frozen, so she had no idea what he had said, but the Fellowship began moving down the mountainside. Her legs were shouting in protest, and her arm was shrieking in pain as she began to painfully lug herself down along with the rest of the Fellowship. Beside her, she was faintly aware of Legolas carrying Amy, and she saw that the elf was striding confidently atop the snow like he was the Yeti with snowshoes on.

Lucky bastard.