Status: complete

Thalion Faer, Doltha Hún

Of Snow And Stone

It was an unwelcome change for all the Fellowship, trekking up the steep and snowy mountain side of Caradhras. Although there was no wind save a minute breeze gracing us in intervals, the atmosphere was one that kept us quiet for the most part. But for all its cons it did bring us each peace; a chance for self reflection and inner thoughts to be contemplated. And for me, this mean conversing with Gandalf.

“Few can foresee whither their road will lead them, till they come to its end.” He faced forward as he walked, his staff acting more like a walking stick for his ancient bones. “It would do you well not to treat this gift with such distaste.”

“I only do so because I am unable to control it.” My eyes were focused on the ground beneath my feet, the gentle crunching of pure snow at the mercy of my boots. “It is not the simplest of tasks to harbour it. Foresight is not a subject one is educated on normally.”

“Normal.” He huffed. “Such a subjective term. Who are we to decide what is or is not normal? There are those who are one thing and those who are another. Not a single soul in all of Middle Earth is the same. Nor are our paths and destinies.”

“I had almost forgotten how often you speak in riddles.” I joked.

“Riddles? Oh no my dear girl, if you should like to converse in riddles merely speak with a Hobbit. They’ve a tendency to be quite confusing folk, even to themselves. I recall a time I was visiting Bilbo in the Shire, and I said to him ‘Good morning!’ What a mistake that was.”

“How so?”

“He said to me ‘What do you mean? Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not; or that you feel good on this morning; or that it is a morning to be good on?’ Even for a wizard my head was in quite the kafuffle after that.” I erupted in laughter, matching the words perfectly to Bilbo’s character.

“Only a Hobbit could be capable of confusing Gandalf the Grey to the point of almost outwitting him.” I remarked.

“Yes, yes, they’ve always such honest ways.” His breath danced through the air in a misty fog expelled from his lungs. It rose upwards towards the sky until it dispersed and disappeared. “But in regards to your dilemma, when we next rest it would serve you well to practice as I taught you.”

I nodded just as Aragorn’s voice pierced the otherwise silent atmosphere. He called out to Frodo, who was tumbling down the mountain side towards him as I turned around. Rushing past Boromir I helped the Hobbit up, ridding his hair and cloak of snowflakes. Asking if he was alright, he nodded simply while instinctively reaching towards his neck to assure the ring was in its place. But it wasn’t. His eyes flickered upwards in fear, and upon following his line of sight I was met with the vision of Boromir stooping to pick something golden up from the snow. He raised the ring up to eye level, scrutinizing it with an intensity I’d never before seen.

“Boromir…” I called calmly, urging him to return the ring. But he did not hear me; or if he did, he chose not to acknowledge me.

“It is a strange fate we should suffer so much fear and doubt… over so small a thing. Such a little thing…” His voice was different, as if he was in a trance. The ring dangled in his grasp, edging closer and closer to him as a yearning grew in his eyes. Frodo subconsciously shifted nearer to me and I placed my hand on his shoulder.

“Boromir!” Aragorn called more sternly, shaking him of whatever had overtaken his mind. “Give the ring to Frodo.”

“As you wish…” There was a hesitation before he replied and a longer one before he began to slowly walk towards the Hobbit. Extending his hand, Boromir offered the Ring to Frodo who snatched it back in a heartbeat. “I care not.” Boromir announced, ruffling the Hobbit’s hair before turning back to the path. I shot a weary glance at Aragorn, whose hand was readily placed on the hilt of his sword. As our eyes met he retracted his grasp, and I turned back to Frodo.

“Come Frodo.” I quietly urged him forward as the rest of the Fellowship pushed on. “Tell me of your years in the Shire, your parents and Bilbo and whatever matters come to mind.”

“Well…Bilbo adopted me nine years after my parents died. I was living in Brandy Hall for some time, and three days after my twelfth birthday I was told an accident happened on the river. Bilbo brought me to his home in Bag End, and until this past September Bag End was where I remained. Although, I’m quite sure that Brandy Hall was glad to be rid of me—I often found ways to get Merry and I into trouble.” A smile grew on his face at the memory. I joined him in the gesture, glad he was opening up to me. “And what of you, my lady? Where now is your family?”

“My mother passed in childbirth and my father in war. I was sixteen…That’s when I left Gondor.”

“Where did you go?” He questioned.

“Well I ended up in the forests of Mirkwood after a year of travelling. If you could call it that…in all honesty I was merely praying I was going where the map said I was.” I laughed.

“Mirkwood? Bilbo travelled through there once, many years ago. He spoke of the forest’s constant attempts to kill him and his companions…How did you survive?”

“Well I wouldn’t have, had Legolas not been in the forest at the right time. Just as I thought I was lost for good, he found me and led me to his city. His father, King Thranduil, let me stay with them as long as I wished. That is also where I met Gandalf for the first time. Legolas and I became good friends, but on the eve of my twentieth birthday I left.”

“Left? Why?”

“I could not reside forever amongst the elves. Sooner or later I would overstay my welcome. Despite what some assured me.” The last part was meant for Legolas, who would no doubt hear me with his elvish ears. “I travelled west through the Misty mountains until I came upon Rivendell, where I met Lord Elrond and where I stayed for five years. In my twenty-sixth year I came into Fornost where I remained until I met you Hobbits outside of Bree.”

“Were you going back to Gondor?” He asked after a moment.

“You have a vast amount of intelligence, my dear Frodo. Yes, I was returning. However, I’ve been away for years so one more would not hurt.”

“Thank you, Vanya.” He said genuinely.

“For what?”

“Postponing your return to help me.”

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Gandalf was leading us through a fierce snowstorm, the impossibly cold wind biting at every exposed bit of skin it could find. I held Frodo tightly against me, just as Boromir and Aragorn did with the other hobbits. Gimli and Legolas were following, leading the horses through the snow. Something seemed off about this place, like there was an evil force at work hidden just beyond our sight. Legolas’ voice carried over the howling wind.

“There is a foul voice on the air…”

“Its Saruman!” No sooner did Gandalf cry this did a few rocks shattered off of the mountainside.

“He’s trying to bring down the mountain!” Aragorn exclaimed. “Gandalf, we must turn back!”

“No!” Gandalf took a few careful steps towards the edge of the cliff, raising his hands in unison and beginning a chant. “Losto Caradhras, sedho, hodo, nuitho i 'ruith!” His voice was carried off into the wind, and something told me his counter-call would not be successful.

“Frodo, cover your face with your cloak.” I said to the hobbit before holding him closer, keeping his face buried in my neck. Seconds after I spoke, lightning struck Caradhras and sent a mountain of snow plummeting towards us. All sound and sight was blocked by a wall of snow now covering me completely. I took half a second to compose myself before using my free arm to quickly dig Frodo and I to the surface. He gasped for air and I apologized quietly.

“We must get off the mountain!” Boromir announced. “Make for the Gap of Rohan and take the West Road to my city!” Boromir’s city: Gondor. Home. Would I be arriving there sooner than I had planned?

“The Gap of Rohan takes us too close to Isengard!” Aragorn argued.

“If we cannot pass over the mountain, let us go under it! Let us go through the mines of Moria.” My heart skipped a beat at Gimli’s words. I met Gandalf’s eyes and saw he harboured the same apprehension as I did. We knew what resided in the dark recesses of Moria: a beast far beyond any of our skills to conquer. Swords and arrows would do it no harm, it was near impermeable.

“Let the ring bearer decide.” Gandalf said, causing all eyes to shift to Frodo. He avoided all eye contact wearily while contemplating our current predicament. The few seconds were excruciatingly long while he balanced the options. Die here, or retreat to safety under the mountains. He did not know the dangers that dwelled there…

“We cannot stay here; it will be the death of the Hobbits!” Boromir cried out.

“Frodo?” Gandalf called.

“We will go through the mines.”

“So be it.” Gandalf said wearily. Turning on the spot I trudged alone with the rest of the Fellowship; the new snow making it even harder to walk. I worried, for the Hobbits and the horses. In fact I worried for us all. I had heard that the ruler of Dwarrowdelf, the city in Moria, was dead. He was Balin, son of Fundin, and cousin of Gimli. I hoped dearly that the rumours were false, for all our sakes.

I called out for Legolas, and he easily walked atop the snow to my position. Passing Frodo to him, we switched spots and now it was me walking alongside Feredir. I spoke to him in Elvish words of comfort to encourage him to push on. I could only imagine how cold his hooves and legs must have been, buried under the snow. It was hard enough for me.

Trees were all around me, like walls that were caving me in. But I am not scared. I am a friend to those dwelling here. There is a magic about this place and I feel it inside me with each breath. The forest is old, older than Tom Bombadil or the White Wizard of the Istari. I am comfortable here; this place is where the world will begin to change. I am not alone here; there are others that I am familiar with. We are waiting for someone, but I am meeting someone.

I staggered, momentarily thankful for the snow surrounding me so that for once a vision did not cause me to fall. As we pushed on I attempted to study the vision. Why did the trees look so familiar? I had been there before, at one point or another in my seventeen years away from home. I waited until the name came to me. Fangorn. So I would return to Fangorn to meet someone powerful.

Filing the memory away for a time when it would be useful, I focused more on carving a path for the rest to follow. It would be significantly easier to travel down the mountain as opposed to up it. Saruman had failed in hindering us; only succeeding in sidetracking us a little. If he had any thoughts to the contrary, then we wielded an advantage.

If only a small one.