Another update, I don't own lotr, please enjoy, you know the drill.

It got colder and colder with each day. Gideon and I had our cloaks tucked tightly all around us and pulled up to our noses when we slept. It was horrible to wake up and find that your hand had slipped out of the warm confines of your bedroll and into the open air. My fingers would be so pale and chilled that they were numb and the veins would be blue and visible.

There were three things capable of warming yourself in the cold altitudes. Fire, which we were able to sit around in the early morning long enough to unfreeze ourselves and eat our breakfast, and then in the evening to make sure we were warm enough to go to bed. Walking, so long as you kept your pace up and blood pumping, and finally when all else failed you had to rub at your hands, arms and stiff legs until you could feel sensation in them again.

It was like being numb, and stiff, and encased in a block of ice for nearly all the day.

And then we climbed so high we reached the snowy plateaus. Snow. Snow made everything worse.

"Gimli?" I asked at midday, as we paused to rest ourselves, and the pack-pony, Bill. I fought the urge to ask him if I may stick my hands into his beard. It sounded odd, but I just wanted my hands to be nice and warm again. I dismissed the idea and buried my hands into Bill's mane. Better than nothing, I supposed.

"Yes, lass?" He asked.

"Would the pass through the south have been any better?" I asked, supressing a shiver. "Any warmer?"

"There wouldn't have been snow at this height." He frowned a little. "Those poor hobbits will have cold feet from here on."

I turned to them. Perhaps there was some material somewhere, something that I could use to tear into strips and tie around their feet. Just something to keep away the chill. I worried about them in the cold, they were used to gentle winters in the Shire. Each day they rose from there bedrolls, not frozen in their sleep, I was relieved.

Sam was shivering I noticed, rubbing warmth back into his hands. "Sam." I called to him. "Come over here. Stick your hands into Bill's mane, it's warmer." I glanced at all the hobbits. "In fact, all of you should."

"Good idea, Miss Fali." Sam chattered through his teeth, and joined me. "Mister Frodo?" He called over to our Ring-bearer, who was eating a crust of bread. "Come and warm yourself up, the sun is weak today."

"The sun feels like it is weak everyday now." I sighed, pressing my hands against the warm pony. "How is he?" I asked, whispering to Sam.

"The sooner we get out of this freezing pass, the better." Sam whispered back. "That ring weighs heavy enough on his mind already. The cold is not helping any matters."

"At least we have not run low on food." I added, a small flicker of optimism. I looked up higher into the mountains, where our path led. "Hurry, Frodo, we will be moving soon. Warm your hands while you can."

I moved aside so the hobbits could all press themselves close to Bill.

Gideon was looking at the path ahead as well. "It doesn't look like it's going to improve any, does it?" He asked.

"No." I shook my head.

"It'll probably only get worse, won't it?" He blew hot breath into his hands.

I nodded. "We may have to leave Bill down here. I don't think the pony will manage with all the snow."

"Truth be told, I have doubts as to how we'll manage with the snow." Gideon wrapped his cloak around him more securely. "How deep do you think it will become?"

"Our knees?" I guessed.

/

"So it's a little above our knees." I admitted a few days later when we higher in the mountains than I had expected. "I should have suspected really, given our shorter stature." I glanced back at Gideon, and the hobbits, and the snow that reached up to my hips. "Good thing I didn't wrap anyone's feet." Indeed, with all the snow underfoot, it would have only melted, soaked the cloth and froze over. Not that we had enough material for it anyway.

"Jus-st keep m-moving." Frodo chattered at me. He had already been through enough the last few days, having dropped the ring once when he slipped on a hidden patch of ice. He had rolled down the hill and I had feared for a second that he would not stop rolling until he reached the bottom of the mountain. He did stop though, covered in snow, and the Ring was thrown from his neck. Boromir picked the dreadful token up, and held it curiously for a minute, speaking quietly of its small size, and how insignificant it looked at first sight. Luckily, was soon shaken from his tense silence and he placed it back in Frodo's palm. I raced down the hill, grabbing Frodo's elbow, and dragged him up the ground he had lost, brushing snow from his clothes before it melted down and left him soaked and frozen stiff.

"C'mon." Gideon said, taking hold of my wrist then and helping to pull me over the lumps of snow in our path. Snow stood out plainly against his dark hair, trapped in his braids.

Gandalf was at the front of our company, ploughing through the white drifts, and looking very white himself from all the effort, his robes and beard now full of snow. We all followed the narrow, stamped out path ahead of us, huddled together like a pack of wolves against the wind. Gimli was right, it did feel as though it could blow us from the mountain.

Legolas walked past, much faster and unimpeded, his steps not breaking the fragile drifts, nor his body seeming to be phased by the storm. I was reminded of the light-footing of my cousins and how unfairly they had used the advantage in hunts and spars. In that moment I was struck with jealousy again, and felt I resembled Gimli as I internally huffed at how he was able to face the winter storm so easily, while I was stuck at this achingly slow pace, in all the bitter cold.

The wind whipped my hair into my face again, and I could feel it freezing onto my skin, both surfaces wet with tears the wind had torn from my eyes and melted snowflakes. When would this end? When would I be able to feel my fingers again? When would we be able to feel something besides the terrible cold, seeping into our very bones?

When at looked at anyone (the exception being the entirely-too-fortunate Legolas) all I could see was a grim serious face, and a body wracked with shivers, pressing on through one of the world's most uncomfortable ideals.

The wind howled sharply than ever, so much that I lost everyone's voices, but Gideon's, the two of us pressed together for warmth. Between the shrill sounds of the wind in my ears, I could make out certain yells from Aragorn, who was trying to get the attention of Gandalf. How the wizard could hear him was beyond me. I discerned but two words: turn back.

Upon hearing this I had the briefest of conflictions between wanting to hurry over the mountain and be on our way again, and turning back to a warmer passage. The prospect of warmth won out. I was only human, and at this point I cared not if I it was upon my urging that we turned around.

Raising my voice to speak of my agreement was unneeded however. There was a thundering sound from above us, and I had a second to look up in surprise before a heavy layer of snow came falling down on us without mercy.

I had been hit by many the ball of snow by my brothers before, but to have so much of the stuff fall on you at once hurt. It was as if my entire body was slammed against something, especially my head. Then the cold surrounded every part of me, and then I let out a gasp I had been holding in, only to find the air did not go anywhere but back in my face.

It became a lot like drowning, only in something solid. There was no air, or space around my immediate face to open my mouth, or effectively open my eyes. Instinct took over and my hands started clawing at the icy mess. Before panic could set in much farther my hand shot up above my head and into the wind again. After dislodging clumps of snow above me, I at last freed myself enough to take in a great breath of air.

My neck swiveled in it's brace of snow, and I saw Gideon pop wildly up beside me, showering me with snowflakes as he did. As we continued to dig our way out, and heave ourselves back on top of the bank, I could hear Boromir shouting "We must get off the mountain! Make for the Gap of Rohan and take the west road to my city!"

"The Gap of Rohan takes us too close to Isengard!" Aragorn had to shout his reminder against the wind as well.

"If we cannot pass over the mountain, let us go under it. Let us go through the mines of Moria."

My mouth was kept shut, not knowing the better alternative. One thing was for certain though, we could not stay here, and continue this road. It was too dangerous now.

Gandalf looked undecided and eventually replied "Let the Ring-bearer decide."

"We cannot stay here! This will be the death of the hobbits!" Boromir argued again. He was right. Merry and Pippin were practically huddled under his cloak like little birds under a parents wing, and looking extremely pale.

I had my own argument as well, but I did not wish to lay more pressure upon Frodo. Gideon had similar thoughts to me, and quietly brought the thought up. "We cannot carry on like this into the night, Mister Frodo." He told the hobbit. "Whatever you choose, you cannot go wrong if you choose a different trail."

Frodo gazed around anxiously and shivered. "We will go through the mines." He said finally, and I felt a breath of relief was had by all.

At Gandalf's "So be it" we were already descending the mountain, header to lower, more sheltered slopes. The process of growing colder as we climbed higher reversed itself. We all thawed out, and by nightfall and a few hours around a fire, feeling was restored to our limbs. I gently handled the little elvish dagger, Gimli flexed his fingers around his axe, and Legolas carefully plucked at his bowstring, all of us grateful to find our fingers capable of weapon handling again.

It would take another day to reach the walls of Moria, but the walk was far more comfortable, and the hobbits far less likely to catch their death of frost bite. Late in the afternoon, Gideon approached me. "How do you feel about traveling through Moria?" He asked.

I was shaken from my warm and once again cheery state of mind. Moria, the wars, the sieges…my beloved uncles. The halls were probably crawling with enemies. We would have to search out the fortified corridors where our brave soldiers still sat on guard, and pray they gave us safe passage. I shook my head. Of course they would. If Uncle Balin was still among them he would open the way for us and come running to our arms, remarking how much we had grown. I briefly wondered if Oin, Balin and Ori would recognize Gideon and I. It had been years, but our appearances had not changed too dramatically.

In fact, I actually smiled then. Gideon and I would soon be useful, our kin were in this mountain and they would let us through. No trouble at all, once we found them. How ever many of them were left…I quickly dismissed the thought, and took on an optimistic air to make up for the depressing days spent in the snow.

"It will definitely be warmer than the other way over the mountain." I said.

"There's more than dwarves in that mountain…" Gideon reminded me.

"I'm sure we'll be able to manage." I said. "There are so many halls and tunnels, they cannot all be occupied. So long as we keep ourselves hidden, it should all go well." I smiled. "And once we find Uncle Balin's men, the rest will be simple enough."

I noticed Gandalf and Frodo speaking in hushed tones. This caused concern, as Gandalf had looked conflicted as to taking the way through Moria, though he had made no objection when Frodo made his choice.

"The walls of Moria." Gimli said in awe, and this snapped my attention to the smooth cliff in front of us. It looked to be just any other surface of rock, but was polished like grey glass, and sheltered in what appeared to be a sort of cove on the end of a lake.

"To think we would come here…" I mused quietly.

"Dwarf doors are invisible when closed." Gimli said, beginning to tap his axe along the face of the rock, and educating the others on the history of dwarves. Gideon and I already knew of dwarven doors though, from tales of our childhood.

"Yes, Gimli, their own master cannot find them if their secrets are forgotten." Gandalf replied, beginning to search along the rock for the entrance himself.

"Why does that not surprise me?" Legolas said, to which Gimli grumbled, but held his tongue.

"Where is it?" Pippin asked, staring at the blank surface of the mountain, confused. "I don't see anything."

"Wait." I said, watching the dim sky grow dimmer. The moon was become visible through thinning clouds. "Watch for the moon."

At last the pale light was shed against the mountain and then the surface of the rock changed. Silver-white light seeped through the rock, in the image of a gateway, an arch of two ivy covered pillars with the vines braided together. At the top a star shone, and the keystone of the arch bore an inscription.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" I asked Frodo. He stared at the captivating light, and nodded.

Gideon stepped forward and placed his hand against the rock, glancing over the image. He ran his hand across the doorway, searching as the others had done. "There is no keyhole." He said.

"And we have no key anyways Master Gideon." Gandalf said, moving beside him. He pointed up toward the inscription. "It reads 'The Doors of Durin — Lord of Moria. Speak, friend, and enter.'"

"What do you suppose that means?" Merry asked, and at this I had to run my fingers through my hair with a sigh. It was obvious, was it not?

"Oh, it's quite simple. If you are a friend, you speak the password, and the doors will open." Gandalf answered with more patience for the simple lives of hobbits than I.

The wizard then stood before the doorway, and said in a deep voice some phrase in elvish.

"Gate of the Elves, open for me." Gideon translated. He had become familiar with the tongue of the elves from all his reading and translating in Rivendell.

Nothing happened. "Perhaps you had better appeal to the dwarves…" Gideon suggested quietly.

Gandalf spoke again, and Gideon translated "Doorway of the dwarf-folk, listen to the word of my tongue."

"Nothing's happening." Pippin stated the obvious. At this Gandalf appeared annoyed and a little disheartened. "What are you going to do, then?"

"Knock your head against these doors, Peregrin Took! And if that does not shatter them, and I am allowed a little peace from foolish questions, I will try to find the opening words." The wizard snapped, his patience for questions gone.

At this we settled in for what looked to be long night, as Gandalf paced and tried to recall spells from long ago.

"I do not have that dense a head." Pippin scoffed. "Do I?" He asked after a pause.

I shook his shoulder. "Don't worry over it Pippin." I smiled, watching as Gandald tried another verse, unsuccessful.

"Thanks." He grinned back, and then after another short pause. "Wait…you didn't give an answer." He said, offended.

"You are not dense enough to break down the wall of Moria."I assured him. "You're clever when you need to be." This was a far more appealing answer for him.

"Fali! Gideon!" Gandalf called us to him.

"Yes?" I asked. "What happened?"

"Perhaps the gate will open for those who are in the Line of Durin, as this is Durin's domain." He stood us in front of the gate. "Go on, have an attempt."

"What are we supposed to say?" Gideon asked.

"Say anything." Gandalf urged us.

My brother and I glanced at each other, a bit confused, but stepped up none the less. "Hello." I said to the gate, feeling a tiny bit foolish. "Umm…I, Fali, daughter of Fili, son of Dis, daughter of Thrain, heir of Durin, ask that the gate to Moria open." Nothing happened. I had thought the addition of my lineage would be helpful, but it had done nothing. "Perhaps in khuzdul?" I asked Gideon.

He nodded, and made the second attempt, using the old, sharp edged language of our people, but this also had no effect. "I'm sorry Master Gandalf, it will accept only the password." Gideon apologized.

"It was a worthy try…" Gandalf sighed, seeming to run out of ideas.

We returned to our places on the edge of the lake, and watched as the ripples from Merry and Pippin's skipping stones had fell.

"Did you see that?" Gideon asked suddenly.

"What?" I asked, scanning the water. "A fish?" We could use more meat seeing as we only had yesterday's hunt to keep us through Moria.

"No." Gideon rose, and waded into the shallows of the water.

"Stay on the shore, Master Gideon." Aragorn said. Gideon nodded, grabbed something from the bottom of the lake and returned. He held it out to me, and I saw it shinning in the moonlight. It looke like a rock from the bottom of the lake, covered in green scum, and calcium. Aquatic plants and snails had invaded the object, but there was a uncovered portion that still showed it was not a rock.

"It's made of metal." Gideon said. "It's just been all twisted up and in the water for years."

"What is it?" I asked.

"It's a riddle." We all turned to face Frodo who had risen from his log, and spoken. "Speak 'friend' and enter. What's the Elvish word for friend?"

Gideon studied the item in his hands. "Fali…" He said, his voice sounding strained in his throat.

"Mellon." Gandalf spoke the word, and there was a great rumbling in from mountain, and the image of the archway was split in two, creating two doors which opened to a dark interior. Moria stood before us.

"Amazing." I muttered. "We finally have it."

"Fali…" Gideon sounded as though he might choke.

"Have you ever seen anything like that?"

"Fali!" He grabbed hold of my shoulder and forced me to turn back to him.

"What is it, Gideon?" I asked, a bit annoyed.

He held the item out to me. "It's Oin's horn."

Details from the book

- The wizards don't actually have a spell battle thing on the mountain, the decision to go through Moria was because of extremely bad weather

- The dwarves know that reclaiming Moria wasn't very successful, I tried to write it so they can be shocked that no one is there, but they are definitely not expecting ale, and roast meat like Gimli in the film is talking about

- Oin was killed by the giant squid monster when he went to go reclaim Moria, this is why Gideon finds his ear-horn in the pond