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The weather began to turn cold, and snow floated down from the clouds. Eruwaedhen now wore a coat and mantle by reason of the weather. Whenever she breathed out, a white puff of frost appeared in the air. The sharp, frigid temperature stung her nose and cheeks, turning them rose-red. Even the people of the Eldar, hardier than Men though they were, were not unaffected by such chances of climate as heat or frost.
"Cold, is it not?" remarked Galawen, a maidservant, who walked upon the ground.
"Aye," replied Eruwaedhen.
Galawen merely nodded. "I wonder if this is as cold as the Helcaraxë."
"Nay, it is not," countered Celebrían. "The Grinding Ice was more terrible far than this. My mother endured it once long ago ere the Sun first rose, and told me of it. It was so cold that these light shoes that we now wear would not suffice. Our people, through their great haste to return to to Middle-earth to make war upon the Great Enemy, journeyed ill-provisioned for the difficulties they would encounter. They were reduced to tearing off parts of their cloaks to make stockings for their feet and coverings for their faces."
"I believe we are halfway to Lórien," said Aearon, also on foot.
"That is well," Eruwaedhen said. "Though I do hope it will be warmer when we arrive."
After another hour had passed, the sun began to set, and the company set up camp. As usual, Celebrían and her maidservants slept in Celebrían's tent. When Eruwaedhen arose the next morning, it was deathly cold out, and she was glad for her warm clothes.
So the company of Elves journeyed on over hills and valleys, singing to pass the time. The days grew shorter, and the cold grew harsher. It was too cold to speak much, but when the evening came, it was comforting to sit before a warm fire once again. The company neared Caradhras, and expected to reach the Redhorn Pass by the next day.
"What are Orcs like?" Eruwaedhen suddenly asked Aearon one day. Uidor, who was sitting nearby, gave Eruwaedhen and Aearon a worried look.
"Horrible, foul creatures," Aearon replied. "You do not want to meet them."
"What must I do should they attack?"
"Were you not present at the Lord Elrond's instructions for the journey? If we are assailed while on the move, you and the other ladies are to ride amidmost. If we are surrounded, then you are to dismount and crouch beside your mount in the centre of the ring. We will fight for you."
"And if you are slain? What then?"
"They shall not overcome us," Aearon said confidently, with the air of a youth who has seen little of battle. "We are well-armed and valiant."
"But supposing they did?" Eruwaedhen persisted.
Aearon sighed. "Flee at once for Imladris, on horseback if you can, on foot if you must. Whatever happens, you must avoid capture at all costs. But," said Aearon hastily, seeing Eruwaedhen's face, "none have seen Orcs near the Pass for a great span of years. So you have little reason to fear."
"It is a new moon," Melwen, one of Eruwaedhen's fellow maidservants, whispered that night as the company lay wrapped in slumber.
"The night is dark but for the stars," whispered Uidor, another maidservant.
"The stars of Elbereth," a maidservant called Aeriel replied.
The maidservants lay quietly for some minutes. The silence of the night was suddenly broken by a sharp howling.
A howl pierced the night. Aearon and Gondithen, on guard with bow and spear, remained silent. Eruwaedhen lay huddled fearfully, listening intently for further cries. The howl began again, but was cut short suddenly by a yelp, which died away all at once. Eruwaedhen knew then that the guards of the company did not watch in vain.
She eventually entered into a state of motionless slumber, her hands folded, her eyes open, blending wakefulness with dream, as is the manner of the Elder People.
A/N: All right so I finally got out my third chapter as scheduled! I hope you liked it! Reviews are appreciated and often responded to.