Sword and Arrow

Chapter 12

The biting cold had gotten worse and worse over the past few days, and the coats and cloaks that the Fellowship had received from Lord Elrond were nothing against the cold.

Now they struggled along a narrow ledge as the snowstorm washed over them, driving snow in their eyes. Beruthiel's wet gloves were a forgotten matter by now: the snow had crawled its way into every crack and crevice in the Fellowship's clothing, and every sliver of skin that was exposed to the air was red with the cold. Snow had gathered on their packs and cloaks, weighing them down, and was clustered in their hair (and in Gandalf and Gimli's cases, beards), making every second their hair rested against their faces one of painful, biting cold.

Gandalf led the way, driving his staff into the snowdrifts to judge the depth. Legolas being Legolas, he was walking along on top of the snow, not bothered by the difficulties that the mere mortals, and indeed even the great god Boromir, faced.

Suddenly, he cocked his head to the side, looking off into the distance. He gazed into the whirling snow that obscured the sky and made the air white, then ran ahead to stand at the edge of the ledge. Beruthiel felt a sudden urge to tell him to back away from the edge, but she reasoned that he was now a grown elf and could handle himself.

Ahead, Legolas still appeared to be listening. "There is a fell voice in the air!" he cried.

"It's Saruman!" Gandalf affirmed. His voice echoed on the mountain walls and suddenly, a great cracking sound came from above. Huge chunks of rock, snow, and ice came crashing down from higher up. The Fellowship flattened themselves against the cliff wall to avoid the falling material. Beruthiel threw herself in front of Frodo and Sam, while Boromir pulled Merry and Pippin back. She noticed that Aragorn had his arm around Boromir's waist, but she was too exhausted to make a comment or even smirk.

"He's trying to bring down the mountain!" Aragorn shouted. "Gandalf, we must turn back!"

"No!" the wizard replied, turning to face the storm. He raised his staff and his other arm in a calming gesture. "Losto Caradhras, sedho, hodo, nuitho i 'ruith! (Sleep, Caradhras, be still, lie still, hold your wrath!)

But his voice was lost in the maelstrom as another voice, deeper and more intimidating, overcame it. Beruthiel couldn't make out the words nor their meanings, but she was sure that they were speaking in Quenya, the High Tongue, in which wizards and the High Elves cast their spells.

She saw that the words had an effect on the mountain: lightning struck the peak, and more snow than before came raining down. She ducked like the rest of the Fellowship, but it had no effect: the snow still buried them.

Legolas was the first to emerge. He helped Gimli out, then shifted his attention to the others. Boromir had already freed his upper body and was now helping the hobbits, who were buried deeper than everyone else.

Legolas pulled Gandalf out, who dusted himself off and stood looking off into the storm. With a toss of his dark hair, Aragorn emerged as well, then helped Beruthiel out.

"I was nearly out myself," she muttered.

"I know," he said with a grin.

"We must get off the mountain!" Boromir advised. "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 refuted.

"Of we cannot pass over the mountain, let us go under it," Gimli suggested. "Let us go through the Mines Moria!"

A shadow flickered over Gandalf's eyes as he stared off into the storm, still deep in thought. Moria... He feared to go into those mines. He nodded, recalling a thick book with dusty pages and illustrations illuminated in gold leaf and silver paint, written in a dead language that none on Middle-earth but the Istari now spoke.

The dwarves had delved too greedily and too deep. He knew what they awoke in the darkness of Khazad-dum... Shadow and flame!

He shut his eyes, dismissing the frightening image from his mind.

"Let the Ring-bearer decide," he said grimly, though a shape made of fire and shadows still danced in front of his eyes.

"We cannot stay here!" Boromir reminded them with an arm around both Merry and Pippin, sheltering them from the cold with his broad frame. Aragorn came up behind him and put a hand on his shoulders. "This will be the death of the hobbits!"

Frodo looked back at the Gondorian, now unnerved. He knew that the Man wanted them to go to Minas Tirith, but he also now knew that that path was no longer an option. "We will go through the Mines," he said reluctantly.

Gandalf closed his eyes, recalling the path to and the path through Moria. He wished for nothing more than to turn around that instant, but knew that he couldn't.

"So be it," he said decisively.

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A/N: Hey guys, sorry this chapter is so short but I'm on mobile and don't have a lot of time.