An Arrow or Two || Legolas/LotR

THREE

Chapter Three. Snow and Stone.

Rewritten 25/05/2020

As the wind blew, I made a firm decision that I would never look at snow in the same way again. The cold nipped at my face constantly, stinging my skin. The cold seeped through my clothes and felt as if it was in my bones. Despite this the sun shone, and occasionally whenever the breeze subsided I could feel the warmth of it on my skin, although this was a rarity.

While we were trekking up the mountain, Pippin stuck himself completely to my side. He was holding my arm for support as he trudged, pulling me down deeper into the snow than I would have liked. But I did not complain; this was much harder on the Hobbits than it was on me. I had joined the Fellowship to offer as much help as I could. So I held onto Pippin as we walked, supporting him as best I could.

The breeze carried the cold air straight into our faces, making our noses and ears sore. The snow was thick and deep.

"I'm freezing cold," Pippin told me, and I rubbed his arm.

"It will get better, Pippin. Don't worry." I didn't know if he could tell, but I wasn't sure if I was being truthful. I had a solemn feeling about the snow-filled road along Caradhras, "At least the sun is high and bright."

Walking up the mountain was cold and bleak and uneventful, save for someone falling from time to time. However, at one point as we walked I heard a slight yelp and a small shout of Frodo's name from behind us. Everyone stopped and turned to see Aragorn helping Frodo up, who had just tumbled down, getting tangled up in his cloak while rolling. For a brief second I daydreamed about having a warm cloak to wrap myself up in, imagining the soft material and—I quickly snapped out of my thoughts when I noticed Frodo was panicking slightly, his hand instinctively clutching his chest, feeling for the Ring, which he seemed to have been lost while he had tripped. I saw it a few metres away, half buried in the snow. I was about to move forwards to get it for him when Boromir strode past me swiftly. He bent down and picked up the small gold band, holding it by its chain. I felt Pippin stiffen beside me and tighten his grip on my arm. Frodo gulped, nervous.

"Boromir." Aragorn warned calmly. Boromir appeared completely oblivious. All he was focusing on was the Ring. I thought of the council, when the Ring seemed to make him hot-tempered and mad. Everyone remained silent as they watched, but I could feel the tension building up. Gandalf shifted slightly, giving Boromir a curious stare. I felt dread well in my stomach.

"It is a strange fate we should suffer so much fear and doubt over so small a thing. Such a little thing." Boromir whispered. He reached out with his other hand to hold it, or maybe even just to touch it—

"Boromir!" Aragorn said, more urgently this time. Boromir flinched, drawn away from the Ring suddenly, "Give the Ring to Frodo."

Boromir breathed out heavily, as if broken from a trance. He walked forwards and held out the Ring to Frodo.

"As you wish." He said while Frodo snatched it back quickly, hurrying to put it on. Boromir laughed slightly before ruffling Frodo's hair, "I care not." As Frodo gave Boromir a suspicious glance, I saw Aragorn remove his hand from the hilt of his sword out of the corner of my eye. That could have gone wrong, I thought to myself. Watching Boromir as he walked past I clutched my little Hobbit closer to my side, protectively. I was worried for Boromir. He seemed easily tempted by the Ring, and the power it held. It was such an evil thing.

As we trudged on, the snow got deeper and the cold got harsher. I talked to Pippin more to keep him interested and distracted, to keep him focusing on me so he did not scare himself or get frantic. I talked mostly about Rivendell and my experiences of growing up there. I talked about archery and music and flowers and water. Pippin clung on to every word, as if desperate to separate himself from reality.