MIZPAH. ᶠᵃʳᵃᵐⁱʳ [REWRITTEN]

v. the human ice cream cones chose life

v. 

Y/N CAN feel nothing but numbing cold as the wetness soaks into her clothes. She can't see, can't breathe--

For a second, everything seems to slow down. The pure terror fogging her mind clears just enough to allow her to twist her whole body, shaking the ice and snow loose enough to shove her head above the surface.

She gulps in the biting, frigid air, coughing dryly as her raw throat aches.

An arm roughly pulls her to her feet and she turns to see Boromir, face set and grim. She can feel his fingers shaking through his gloves. His other arm cradles the hobbits as they huddle together, and she exchanges a look with the man. They both know the halflings won't survive much longer if they stay up here. They both know the two of them won't survive much longer.

"We must get off this mountain!" Boromir rasps, looking to Gandalf. His tone is hard. "Let's make for the Gap of Rohan and take the west road to my city!"

Her heart stutters.

The Gap of Rohan. A tortuous, wrenching ache squeezes her lungs as unbidden thoughts of her home, her kingdom, flood her mind.

But Aragorn shakes his head in disagreement. "No, that takes us too close to Isengard."

"But this mountain is still too dangerous," she argues, voice strained as her body begs for rest and warmth. Next to her, she's acutely aware of Boromir still holding the four hobbits close to his side, all of them shivering violently. "This will be the death of the hobbits."

"Then if we cannot pass over a mountain, let us go under it," Gimli counters with a growl. "Let us pass through the Mines of Moria."

A silence falls over the Fellowship, and nothing is said over the howling winds. Saruman's chant had seemed to stop for now, but she isn't about to push that luck.

"Let the Ring-bearer decide," she suggests, even as a slightly guilty part of her mind knows that there is no chance the hobbit will choose to continue this path. However, she also knows that his chances of survival here on the mountain are nonexistent--and right about now, she'll take anything over this freezing hell.

Everyone turns to Frodo, who only hesitates a moment. Then, he nods. "We will go through the mines," he says.

Relief washes over her and triumph crosses Gimli's face, but Gandalf only sighs. The look in his eyes is dark, and in hindsight she wishes she had asked him why. What, exactly, was he afraid of?

But she did not, and the wizard simply says, "So be it."

‣ ‣ ‣

It's hours past dark by the time they reach the base of Caradhras. They had decided to take a chance on a fire, to warm up and gather strength for the journey to the famed dwarf mines. Even Gandalf had agreed that the fire was worth the risk, just this time.

Feeling had finally returned to Y/N's fingers and toes, so she counts that as an absolute win. The hobbits had also finally stopped shivering, once they got a bit of food in their bellies.

Now they all surround the fire, either eating or sharpening weapons or, in Gandalf's case, smoking a pipe in deep thought. Wet clothes are laid out carefully, drying in the heat of the fire. It is a miracle, truly, that no one had gotten sick from the trek up Caradhras.

Wrapped up in one of Boromir's less damp cloaks, Y/N carefully restrings her bow (the weapon had gotten buried with her under the cold avalanche, and so it didn't hurt to make sure it was still intact and undamaged.)

Glancing up at the others, her eyes soften to see the hobbits huddled against Boromir once again, the man asleep with one hand still on his sword. Samwise Gamgee had been attached at the hip with Frodo this entire journey so far and it had not ended now, with the both of them laying against each other as they rested. On the other hand, Pippin and Merry seemed to be kicking each other in their sleep.