A/N: before I begin the twelfth chapter of Legend of the Lionheart, I would just like to say 'thank you' to those who have already reviewed this story.

It means a lot to me, it really does.

And I am talking to you: Katarina Aguilar, Eradicator Joker Drake , Silverhand9028 (and please note, I am NOT a Mundie), AlphaGirl224, Book Soldier.

Have some pieces of virtual Lembas bread! *gives bread*

Oh - and MERRY CHRISTMAS!

AAAAAND on with the chapter!

Celeste's POV:

The way back down the mountain was equally as difficult as getting up, the only difference was that we were all FREEZING! I kept sneezing, and to be honest, I could tell that everyone was getting very annoyed with it. But hey, you can't help being sick - even though me sneezes were also getting on my nerves.

We hiked back down, but around two miles or so (at a guess) we had to stop because the Hobbits were slowly getting pneumonia, despite being carried again. We all sheltered next to a single wall, that was actually an upright part of the mountain. It didn't give us much cover from the wind, or the snow, but we all felt warmer, though only slightly. The snow seemed to be piled higher than before and all I wanted to do was sleep. I was getting tired, and was fighting to keep my eyes open.

I sneeze again, which helps to clear my head slightly.

I take a quick glance at Ron, who was standing to my left, to see his normally tanned skin, now pale and his lips with a tint of blue, and I'm guessing that I looked similar. We were all slowly freezing to death, and there was nothing anybody could do about it.

To Ron's left, I could see Gandalf pulling a flask from his bag before handing it to Merry, telling him something, which even I couldn't hear over the raging winds. Merry opened the flask, before taking a quick sip from it, and finally handing it to Pippin, and talking to him. I'm guessing he's telling him some sort of instructions.

As I watched, I saw that colour flooded to Merry's cheeks, and he seemed to not feel the cold as badly. After Pippin took a mouthful, he tried to hand it to Boromir, but seeing as he and Merry were being carried by him, Pippin held the flask up to his mouth and tipped it, so Boromir could take a drink.

He passed it onto Ron, who stared at the flask weirdly as Pippin shouted something down his ear. He gave the lid a quick wipe with his sleeve before drinking a mouthful and passing it along to me, then shouting something in my ear.

"Okay, so apparently, this has some sort of drink in it." Ron bellowed over the wind. "I think Gandalf said it was Miruvor or something like that."

"Mirvu- what?" I say, confused at the weird name.

"The name doesn't matter." Ron replies, dismissively. "But it's supposed to make you feel better. But only take a mouthful; everything we have of the stuff is in your hands right now."

I nodded, and then looked to the flask in my hands. Just holding the thing made me feel more awake. Discreetly wiping the lid, I took the designated mouthful, keeping the liquid in my mouth for a few seconds, before handing the flask to Sam; swallowing and telling him what Ron told me.

The drink burnt on the way down my throat, but in a good way, as if swallowing pure sunlight and heat. I went to sneeze, but the sensation dispersed rather quickly.

I stared at my hands to find that they were no longer pale, but had regained part of my natural and slightly dirty skin colour. Slowly, I began to adjust to the cold like all the others, and eventually stopped shivering altogether. I seemed more alert and most likely with better reflexes. It also seemed to make my heart lighter, as if I had more hope. I felt normal.

Pretty soon, we'd all taken a mouthful and passed the flask back down to Gandalf, who sealed the flask once more and returned it to his bag. We then all attempted to make some progress in our descent, but we got nowhere. We were pretty much stuck where we were standing - for the time being anyway. But the snow whirled about thicker than ever, and the wind grew louder. I kept wondering how long it would be until dawn.

"What do you say to a fire?" Boromir suggests, shouting over the wind. "The choice now, seems to be between fire or death, Gandalf. I doubt that we shall be seen by any unfriendly eyes when the snow has covered us, but that will not help us."

To be honest, how can you spot something in the middle of this snowstorm, we can all barely see three feet in any direction, let alone across the sky to spot any black birds.

Reluctantly, Gandalf agreed with Boromir, and allowed us to build a fire. Boromir grabbed some pieces of wood from his stuff and placed them in the middle of the clearing, with Gandalf throwing a maggot in the fire, exclaiming "Naur an edraith ammen!"

The fire began to burn straight away, their unusual green flames making everything in the vicinity become illuminated by an eerie green glow.

"I have written 'Gandalf is here' in signs that all can read from Rivendell to the mouths of the Anduin." Gandalf said to us. "If there are any to see through the snow, then I at least am revealed to them."

But I honestly couldn't care less, if anything could see us right now, and I think they all felt the same. I've been feeling crap for days; freezing and now soaking wet too, and I had no hope left, But looking at the fire, warmed me, not just physically but also mentally. It was as if my very soul was rejoicing at the sight.

We cowered around the fire, our backs to the violently biting winds, seeking comfort in the burning embers, and the crackling flames.

But we were hours from daybreak, and the fire was burning out quickly.

Hours later, we were all still cowering around the dying flames of the fire, as Gandalf threw the final maggot onto the embers, lighting them for the final time.

"The night is growing old." Aragorn said soon after, looking at the sky. I glanced upwards too, and through the dark snow clouds, I saw that the sky was lighter.

Wait - sky?!

I suddenly became aware that the freezing, deafening winds had died down, and the snow was now falling slower, with larger flakes. The light sky grew lighter and eventually, the snow stopped falling altogether.

I smiled and looked back to the others, who I noticed had realised the snow had stopped and were looking up, just like I had done.

I glanced at the flames to see their green and blue light isn't as effective to see as it was before, as they finally burned out.

As the light from the sun grew even brighter, we all saw an entirely different world. The snow was piled in drifts higher than the Hobbits, everywhere apart from the small ring where we were standing; the snow under our feet had melted into mush. Our tracks from where we'd been walking had vanished from sight, not that we were desperate to climb back up, anyway.

The clouds refused to move from their positions in the sky, and still looked heavy with yet more snow.

Gimli, who is still looking up, shakes his head before addressing us.

"Caradhras has not forgiven us." He said.

Wait a minute, I thought it was Saruman's fault, so why make it seem that the blood mountain is alive, and is trying to make us all freeze to death?

Why are people so confusing?

But Gimli continued. "He has yet more snow to fling at us, if we dare to go on. The sooner we go back down, the better."

This was something we all could agree on, but it might as well be impossible, with how high the snow had become.

"If Gandalf would go before us with a bright flame, he might melt a path through for you." Legolas said. Even through all the crap this bloody mountain had thrown at us, he still acted as if he was light-hearted and hopeful. How can Elves be that perfect?

"If Elves could fly over mountains, they might fetch the Sun to come help us." Gandalf answered. "But I must have something to work on. I cannot burn snow." Well, duh (!)

"Well," Boromir began. "When heads are at a loss, bodies must serve, as we say in my country. The strongest of us must find a way. See that shoulder of rock over there" He indicated, and we all looked. "...it is where the snow first began to hinder us. If we can reach that point, maybe it will prove easier beyond."

"Then let us force a path there, you and I, Boromir!" Aragorn remarked and the two set off. Why is everyone speaking like we're back in medieval times, today?

Though Aragorn was the tallest out of the Eleven of us, Boromir was broader in build than he was, so he led the way, with Ranger-boy following.

We could see them struggle after a while, and at one point, it seemed that Boromir was swimming through snow, rather than pushing his way through the stuff. It would've been a really funny sight for me to laugh at, if it was the way we didn't have to go.

Legolas stood watching them try and advance for a while, before saying with a smile on his lips "The strongest must forge a way, says he? But I say; let a ploughman plough, but choose an otter for swimming. For running light over leaf and grass, or over snow - pick an Elf!"

And with that, he jumped up and shot away quickly. "Farewell! I go to find the sun!" Legolas said before leaving, easily passing the other two, as he sped into the distance and vanished around the rocky turn.

Without the fire, we were all much colder; the effects of the drink must be wearing off.

As I wrapped my arms around myself, I turned to Ron. "Remember what I said the other day? 'Snow is ruined for me?'" I asked and he nodded. "Well, I was wrong; Snow is dead to me! I said through clenched teeth, hoping they'd find a way out of the snow. Fast.