A Promise- a LOTR Fanfiction (Legolas) ❤︎ ✓

Chapter 6: The Pass of Caradhras

EDITED 02/06/16

There isn't enough snow yet to slow us significantly, but it is frustrating to sink about half a foot before taking another step. We are at the top of Caradhras, but we still have to walk for about forty days before we reach the Gap of Rohan. Just thinking about the treacherous weather that awaits us makes me want to run back to Rivendell and huddle under the warm blankets.

I trudged through the snow slightly behind Legolas, who was walking on top of all of the white flakes. I grumble at him and curse my mother- something I do often. If my lovesick father hadn't fallen for her and loved an elf instead, I would be normal. And, I think grudgingly, brushing some snow off of my pant leg, I wouldn't be stuck in this situation right now. 

"Frodo!" I hear Aragorn cry, as the hobbit tumbles through the snow until the ranger picks him up onto his feet. Frodo's hand flies to where the Ring lay a few moments earlier, but his eyes widen in panic when his hand closes around air. My breath stutters, the fog from my mouth coming out in small puffs. I look around the snow for the tiny ring, and see a small gold shimmer in the pure white snow. Boromir picks it up and holds it out, gazing at the golden artifact.

"Boromir," Aragorn says sharply. I inhale, knowing something bad could happen right now if Boromir didn't give back the Ring. The hearts of men are easily corrupted- he showed me this at the council with his reactions. I shiver, the movement making my teeth clatter, and wrap my cloak tighter around myself. 

"Boromir!" I warn him, but he doesn't give back the Ring. He holds it by the chain, and reaches out to touch it without making a noise. The sun glimmers across the surface of the ring, making it dance with light as it spins on the thin chain. Boromir's eyes are focused on the gold, his brows furrowed in concentration and thought.

"It is a strange fate that we should suffer so much fear and doubt over so small a thing..." Boromir murmurs, as if he's under a spell. "Such a little thing.."

I stand silently, slightly cold but not yet freezing like I know we will be later. I glance up the mountain, where the wind picks up tufts of snow, swirling it around like a whirlpool before settling it down again. I sniff, bringing my fingers up to my nose. The tip is cold, and when I cross my eyes, I see that it's pink.  Concerned for the others, I glance ahead to see the three other hobbits shivering in the gleaming snow. Pippin catches my gaze and holds it as I smile at him reassuringly. He smiles faintly back before burrowing deeper into his cloak.

"Boromir!" Aragorn repeats, louder this time. "Give the Ring to Frodo."

Boromir gazes at him for a moment before laughing, the sound almost forced and echoing in the mountain tops. 

"As you wish. I care not." He tosses the Ring back to Frodo, who had been watching him with wide, blue eyes, and the hobbit instantly slips the chain over his head. Boromir ruffles Frodo's curly hair and turns away, the giant shield strapped to his back as he lumbers casually away. I look at Aragorn; his hand is on the hilt of his sword, and once Boromir is farther away, he relaxes his grip. I turn away, pretending not to have seen, and continue my trek up the mountain.

* * *
The wind is howling, hurtling snow into our frozen faces. My eyelashes are frozen, lips chapped from the icy air. I had tried to keep them moist by licking them, but the moisture would freeze barely seconds later so I gave up. Now, we are buried in the snow, leaving deep furrows where we have dug. Legolas walks ahead, scouting, his light feet barely leaving tracks on the snow. The hobbits are being carried by Aragorn and Boromir, and I admire their strength and selflessness to help others even when their struggle is obvious.

I can't tell if it is evening or not by the stormy clouds covering the sky, but it feels like we have been walking for hours, and it's dark enough.

I shiver. I really, really regret not bringing a thicker cloak and boots. All of my clothes are covered in snow that melts slowly, and the howling wind prevents us from talking- we have to yell or shout to be heard at this point.

I stop in my tracks and listen. I heard a voice, chanting something in Elvish. But now, the snow storm is picking up and I can't tell if I heard correctly.

"There is a fell voice on the air!" Legolas cries, confirming my suspicions. The voice gets louder, and I realize the person is speaking in Sindarin.

"It's Saruman!" Gandalf shouts, as a low rumble comes from the mountainside above us. Several boulders come hurtling down towards us so I grab the closest hobbit- which happens to be Pippin- and run as far away from the cliff as I possibly can. Snow and rock crash down before our very eyes.

"He's trying to bring down the mountain!" Aragorn shouts to Gandalf from the back of the line. "Gandalf, we must turn back!"

"No!" Gandalf yells stubbornly and turns away, shouting a chant in Quenya. Saruman's voice echoes through the mountaintops, and a lighting bolt flashes in the sky, hitting the top of the mountain that was right above us.

"Pip!" I yell, reaching out for the shivering hobbit and pull him close to me as a huge pile of falling snow buried the Fellowship underneath it.

I hold onto the hobbit with one arm, moving upwards as if I'm swimming, trying to reach the surface. Finally, we emerge out of the snow and splutter, shaking off the snow in our hair and cloaks. Pippin smiles weakly at me, and I smile back.

I look around, seeing everybody else come out of the snow. Merry pops up beside us, shivering uncontrollably. I pull him closer to Pippin and I, and they huddle beside me. I glance at Gandalf, who is standing in the snow thinking.

"We must get off the mountain! Make for the Gap of Rohan and take the west road to my city!" Boromir shouts.

"The Gap of Rohan takes us too close to Isengard!" Aragorn argues back.

"If we cannot pass over the mountain, let us go under it!" Gimli says gruffly. "Let us go through the Mines of Moria."

I shake with the cold. The Mines of Moria... I do not wish to enter those mines, but at this point, that would be our best bet. The dwarves, although gruff and slightly rude, could provide food and warmth for us. But Gandalf looks hesitant about this choice, as if he knows something we do not.

"Gandalf?" I yell, waiting for his decision. Pippin quakes beside me, and I pull him closer. He hugs onto my waist, and I put my hand on his shaking shoulder. 

"Let the Ringbearer decide." We all turn to Frodo, whose hair is covered in frost and is also shivering. His expressive eyes are troubled.

"We cannot stay here! This will be the death of the hobbits!" Boromir shouts over the wind, and I glance at the four of them. They watch all of us silently.

"Decide!" I yell, frustrated that this is taking so long. I scrunch my face up in pain as another gust of wind blows frost and ice into my already frozen face.

"Frodo?" Gandalf urges, and the hobbit looks up.

"We will go through the mines." Frodo declares after a moment's hesitation. I sigh in relief. I don't like underground places, but I could use some hot food and a fire...

"So be it." Gandalf murmurs under his breath.