OF SNOW AND STONE AND WOLVES
by Soledad Cartwright
Author’s notes:
As you can see, once again I have adopted large parts of dialogue (as well as a few descripting lines) from The Fellowship of the Ring (the book, not the movie). I will continue doing so, as long as our heroes are fighting Caradhras, for this is where the Great Maker gave Boromir the most things to say or do, even more than during Elrond’s Council – and I am determined to use every snippet he was given by Tolkien, no matter how little it is. I even gave him some of the others’. <g>
Oh yes! Before someone comes to other thoughts, I am an avid supporter of Frodo-Sam friendship. One of the most beautiful friendships in literature – no less and nothing else (no more would be inappropriate in this context). I hope we understand each other.
Chapter Five: Snow on Caradhras
For two more nights we marched on, steadily but ever more slowly as our road wound up into the hills, and the mountains towered up nearer and nearer.
Two nights of deepening darkness and anguish, for I dared not to touch the Stone any more, and the Ring seemed to feel that I was unprotected, for its whispers of blood and glory grew louder and louder in my tortured mind.
The visions came back to me, some in that half-awake state during our march, some in dreams – visions of my brother lying in the Houses of Healing, burning in some unknown fever, drifting further and further from the land of the living; and of my father, sitting upon a burning pyre in the House of the Stewards on the Rath Dínen, clutching on some dark globe with smoldering hands, being slowly consumed by fire, madness in his eyes.
I saw the Lady Éowyn, lying on the battlefield among unnumbered bodies of the slain, clad in shining mail like any warrior of the Mark; but her body was broken and her flow of golden hair soaked in her own blood.
Yet during our daybreaks, when I could resist sleep no more, no matter how much I tried, there was an other dream, that returned every time.
Always the same dream, always the same way.
It showed me the House of Stewards on the Rath Dínen, the stone bed of eternal peace that had been prepared for me since I had reached adulthood. And on that stone bed I saw my lover, dead.
Yet it was not the youthful-looking Elf I had known in his father’s house. It was a Man of very high age, still keeping his noble features, laid to peace. Clad in white entirely, snow-white hair braided on his shoulders, hands folded upon his chest, the silver collar with the Stone around his neck, he was sleeping to never awake again.
The dreams were drawing me mad.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
On our second daybreak I unexpectedly found myself next to Legolas when I jerked up from my recent dream of a dead Elladan. The Elf looked at me, so intently, that I almost felt his eyes boring holes into my head.
’’What is it, Master Elf?’’, I asked, secretly relieved that I can avoid falling asleep again. Besides, talking to Legolas always proved to be interesting, to say the least.
’’Estel and Mithrandir want to set on, shortly’’, he said, ’’but I wish to have a word with you first.’’
I nodded. What ever he intended to speak of could be only better than dreaming of my dead lover again. Anything would be better.
’’Speak then.’’
’’You ceased to touch the Stone two days ago’’, he said without preamble.
Well… almost anything. I tried to avoid a direct answer.
’’You think so, my Lord Prince?’’
He rolled his eyes, which looked… interesting, by eyes thus bright and elegant as his were.
’’I know so, son of Gondor’’, he replied with mock formality. ’’And I might even know why.’’
I raised a questioning eyebrow, still not fully ready to discuss this with him.
’’You might?’’
’’Elbereth!’’, he sighed impatiently. ’’Play no games with me, Boromir! We both know you heard something of the dispute between Estel and Mithrandir, so pretend no otherwise. I was sitting in that tree upon your head the whole time, after all. No Man can keep their voices low enough not to wake me. I only want to know how much you understood.’’
’’Enough’’, I answered, finally giving in; he would not stop nagging anyway. ’’I speak not the Elven tongue, not very well at least, yet I understood that using the Stone harms Elladan. I wish not to harm him. I cannot give him my heart the way he gave me his, but he is dear to me, nonetheless.’’
’’Then respect his wishes’’, Legolas said soberly. ’’He wants to protect you and keep your bond through the Stone, for this is the only thing left him from you. Deny him, and he shall fade away from grief in a shorter time than you believe.’’
’’So what ever I do, I shall harm him?’’, I asked bitterly. ’’What a curse I am for any one who comes near to me, indeed!’’
The Elf nodded, his eyes thoughtful. ’’There is no way around the pain when one truly is in love’’, he said softly, ’’yet fulfillment has many ways. Let him choose his.’’
’’I… I have to think about it’’, I said, still uncertain what I should do.
Legolas nodded and stood. ’’Do so. We shall go on in an hour. Make good use of the time what is still left.’’
He left me alone, and I tried to clear my troubled mind, to be able to think. Between the whispers of the Ring and my own longing, it had become increesingly difficult. Ere I noticed, my hand began to creep towards the Stone again, driven by the need for some peace. I only realized what I was doing when my fingers touched the smooth surface.
It was warm as always.
I sighed, deeply ashamed of my weakness – and gave in.
At first I felt nothing, save the soothing of my mind. Then…
I missed you, meleth-nin, that gentle voice in my heart said.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
They went on one more night, and on the third morning Caradhras rose before them, a mighty peak, tipped with snow like silver, but with sheer naked sides, dull-red as if stained with blood.
Pippin shivered involuntarily and shot a worried look towards Boromir, who gave him an encouraging grin.
’’Fear not , Master Peregrin’’, he murmured, ’’Legolas and I shall take care of the two of you.'’
The Elf nodded in agreement, and the two youngest hobbits grinned, thankful and relieved. The others were less content, though. There was a black look in the sky, and the sun was wan. The wind had gone now round to the north-east.
Boromir snuffed the air and looked back.
’’Winter deepens behind us’’, he said quietly to Gandalf. ’’The heights away north are whiter than they were; snow is lying far down their shoulders.’’
’’I know’’, the wizard answered in a low voice. ’’Tonight we shall be on our way high up towards the Redhorn Gate. We may well be seen by watchers on that narrow path, and waylaid by some evil.’’
’’Yet the weather may prove a more deadly enemy than any’’, Boromir warned. ’’I am worried about the little ones, Mithrandir.’’
’’So am I’’, sighed the wizard, and turned to the Ranger. ’’What do you think of our course now, Aragorn?’’
Boromir, too, looked expectantly at the future King of Gondor, understanding that he and the wizard must have debatted about this for a very long time. In truth, he even remembered some of the debates he was invited to in Imladris, though back then, not knowing these mountains, it had made little sense to him.
’’I think no good of our course from beginning to end, as you know well, Gandalf’’, answered Aragonr. ’’And perils known and unknown will grow as we go on. But we must go on; and it is no good our delaying the passage of the mountains. Further south there are no passes.’’
’’There comes one to the Gap of Rohan’’, Boromir reminded him.
’’I do not trust that way since the news about Saruman’’, Aragorn replied.’’Who knows which side now the marshals of the Horse-lords serve?’’
’’Who knows, indeed!’’, Boromir snorted in dismay. ’’They only serve one Man; and that is Théoden son of Thengel, Kind of the Mark. No lord has more faithful Captains than the marshals of the Riddermark.’’
Aragorn set on to say something, but then he decided not to, seeing that there was naught that could shake Boromir’s faith in his allies. Instead he looked at Gandalf in askance.
’’There is another way, and not by the pass of Caradhras’’, the wizard said. ’’The dark and secret way that we had spoken of.’’
’’But let us not speak of again!’’, Aragorn shuddered. ’’Not yet’’, he looked at Boromir. ’’Say nothing to the others, I beg you, not until it is plain that there is no other way.’’
Boromir nodded, not truly understanding, but accepting the wishes of their chosen leader; yet Gandalf shook his head.
’’We must decide before we go further’’, he said.
’’Then let us weigh the matter in our minds, while the others rest and sleep’’, answered Aragorn.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
In the late afternoon, while the others were finishing their breakfast, Gandalf and Aragorn went aside together and stood looking at Caradhras. Its sides were now dark and sullen, and its head was in grey cloud.
’’I wonder which way the debate would go’’, Boromir murmured to Legolas.
The Elf nodded, his glance going back and forth between the forbidding rock and the hobbits, who were huddled together and tried to warm each other.
’’I hope they decide to face the weather and the high pass’’, he said thoughtfully, ’’for perilous it may be, the other way hides a much greater evil.’’
’’You know what the other, dark and secret way is?’’ Boromir asked. ’’It seemed to fill Aragorn with dismay, and what ever I might think of him, he is no coward, for sure.’’
’’No, he is not’’, the Elf agreed. ’’He is not easy to know, but once you have learnt to read his heart, you learn to love him, too. He walked that other way once, and so did I, and I wish naught more than it be abandoned. For the mere thought of it fills my heart with dread.’’
Boromir looked at him in surprise. ’’It has to be a very dark path, indeed, when the valiant Prince of Mirkwood hesitates to walk it’’, he said.
’’It is’’, the Elf answered, ’’but let us speak no more of it, ere we are safely on the other side of the mountain.’’
Boromir would have pressed the Elf for more details, but Gandalf and Aragorn returned now, and were ready to go. They had chosen the high pass after all.
’’From signs that we have seen lately’’, Gandalf said, ’’I fear that the Redhorn Gate may be watched; and also I have doubts of the weather that is coming up behind. Snow may come.’’
’’Nay, Mithrandir’’, Boromir interrupted, ’’I have no doubts about the snow. It will come; and it will come soon. Better be prepared for it. We must go with all the speed that we can.’’
And he casted a worried look towards the hobbits.
’’Even so it will take us more than two marches before we reach the top of the pass’’, the wizard said. ’’Dark will come early this evening. We must leave as soon as you can get ready.’’
’’I will add a word of advice, if I may’’, said Boromir.
Gandalf nodded.
’’Speak. You were born under the shadow of the White Mountains, and certainly know something of journeys in the high places.’’
’’Indeed, I do’’, Boromir said. ’’First of all, we shall meet bitter cold, if no worse, before we come down on the other side. It will not help us to keep so secret that we are frozen to death. When we leave here, where there are still a few trees and bushes, each of us should carry a faggot of wood, as large as he can bear.’’
Gandalf considered this for a moment, clearly not liking the idea of making a fire at all; then he looked at the tired faces of the hobbits – and gave in.
’’Very well’’, he said, then added warningly; ’’but we must not use the wood – not unless it is a choice between fire and death.’’
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
So we set out again, with a good speed at first; but soon our way became steep and difficult. The twisting and climbing road had in many places almost disappeared, and was blocked with many fallen stones.
Often they were so big that we had to lift the Halflings and carry them over the rocks, and it needed the utmost care to somehow lead the pony along them, not the least because Samwise seemed to have a fear from heights. If not for his utter devotion towards his Master, I think he would have fled back to Hollin hours ago. The little gardener truly made heroic efforts on behalf of the Ring-bearer.
By midnight we have climbed to the knees of the great mountains. The narrow path now wound under a sheer wall of cliffs to the left, above which the grim flank of Caradhras towered up invisible of the gloom, on the right was a gulf of darkness where the land fell suddenly into a deep ravine.
Laborously, we climbed a sharp slope and halted for a moment at the top. And at that very moment I felt a soft touch on my face, as soft as the kiss of my beloved in my dreams, yet this touch was cool and wet and filled me with dread.
I put out my arm to affirm my fears and saw the dim white flakes settling on my sleeve. The snow finally had come.
’’Tarry not! Go on!’’, Aragorn cried, stomping forth to lead the way.
So on we went. I gathered the younger Halflings between Legolas and myself, to shield them with my much broader body as well as I might, for before long the snow was falling fast, filling the air and swirling into our eyes. I saw Frodo’s shivering form before me and remembered how the Mindolluin defeated the strong Men of Rohan, twice his size and thrice his strength, and I found myself swearing in Rohirric, as I had heard it from Théodred, in a snow storm not unlike this.
There is no other tongue I know that allows one to swear thus fluently and creatively (though I would like to know what Khuzdul could do if there is a need for it), and I was glad to relieve some of the tension pent up in my heart.
The dark, bent shapes of Mithrandir and Aragorn, only a pace or two ahead of Frodo, could hardly be seen, yet my King must have heard me, for he looked back for a moment, and there was mild shock on his face.
I shrugged. Oh well, so I was swearing like a horse guard. What then? No else understood, and it made me feel better.
Aragorn turned back to face the path again, and I took a moment to look after my little friends. Following me closely had shielded them a little from the assaults of the wind, yet still they looked miserable, Peregrin even more so than Meriadoc. I bent down to rub his cold, almost frozen cheeks and saw Legolas doing the same to Meriadoc. We exchanged a look and lifted the Halflings from the ground.
’’Do you have snow in your lands, Master Peregrin?’’, I asked.
’’N-not t-this much’’, he shivered, burrowing his face in my cloak, ’’e-except on the high moors of t-the N-Northfarting. B-Bilbo is t-the only l-living hobbit who could r-remember t-the Fell Winter, when w-white wolves intruded t-the Shire…’’
’’And I fear we shall not be spared by the wolves here, either’’, Legolas added, barely loud enough to be heard above the wailing of the wind. ’’They have grown bold in the recent years.’’
Mithrandir, too, halted for a moment. Snow was thick on his hood and shoulders; it was already ankle-deep about his boots.’’
’’That is what I feared’’, he said in a low voice. ’’What do you say now, Aragorn?’’
’’That I feared it, too’’, andwered Aragorn, ’’but less than other things. I knew the risk of snow, though it seldom falls heavily so far south, save high up in the mountains, but we are not high yet; we are still far down, where the paths are normally open all the winter.’’
’’I wonder if this is a contrivance of the Enemy’’, I said, remembering the tales old soldiers often told at campfires. '’They say in my land that he can govern the storms in the Mountains of Shadow1 that stand upon the borders of Mordor. He has strange powers and many allies.’’
Gimli, the Dwarf looked at me doubtfully, clearly not ready to believe such a thing.
’’His arm has grown long, indeed, if he can draw snow down from the North to trouble us here, three hundred leagues away.’’
But Mithrandir looked troubled, and suddenly very old and tired, too, which seemed odd to me, for despite his age, he never appeared to grow weary before, in all those years I had known him.
’’His arm has grown long’’, he quietly said.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
While we halted, the wind died down, to our great relief, and the snow slackened until it almost ceased. We all could breathe easier now, and even look around a little.
’’You can put me down now, Lord Boromir, sir’’, Peregrin muttered. ’’I am warm again, thank to you.’’
I put him down and Legoals let Meriadoc go, too, and we tramped again, glad that at least we had not to fight the wind. But we had not gone more than a furlong when the storm returned with fresh fury. The wind whistled and the snow become a blinding blizzard.
Soon, even I found it hard to keep going. The Halflings, bent nearly double, toiled along behind us, taller folk, Frodo and Samwise between our leaders and me, the younger ones behind me, guarded by Legolas at the rear. We shielded them as well as we could, yet it was plain that they could not go much further if the snow continued. Even Gimli, as stout as any Dwarf could be, was grumbling as he trudged.
I halted for a moment to take a look at the slowly dragging Peregrin, who clearly had come to an end of his strength, and suddenly the others halted, too, as if we had come to an agreement without any words being spoken.
There were eerie noises in the darkness round us, noises I had heard before on the high paths of Mindolluin. It might have been only a trick of the wind in the cracks and quills of the rocky wall; still they sounded like shrill cries and wild howls of laughter, as if the rock itself had been mocking us ere setting on for a final blow.
Stones began to fall from the mountain-side, whistling over our heads, or crashing on the path beside us. Every now and again we heard a dull rumble, as a great boulder rolled down from hidden heights above. I remembered the brave Men of Rohan falling down the cliffs of Mindolluin, crushed to their deaths in the deep ravines, and turned to Aragorn who was standing near me.
’’We cannot go further tonight. Let those call it the wind who will; there are fell voices on the air; and these stones are aimed at us.’’
’’I do call it the wind’’, he said. ’’But that does not make what you say untrue.’’
For a moment I was too stunned to even try to answer. Had my self-proclaimed King just admitted that I was right? That I could be right in anything? If wonders like this keep happening, we might survive this journey after all…
’’Could it be Curunír, trying to bring down the mountain walls upon us?’’, I finally asked.
’’Nay’’, Mithrandir said, ’’his might is not yet great enough for that – unless he lays hand upon the one Ring.’’
’’There are many evil and unfriendly things in the world that have little love for those that go on two legs, and yet are not in league with Sauron’’, Aragorn added, ’’but have purposes of their own. Some have been in this world longer than he.’’
If he just would not speak thus swollen all the time!, I thought, my new-found fondness giving way rapidly the well-known irritation again. And does he truly need to speak the name of the Enemy, thus close to his Ring we are trying to hide from him and when we are in great enough peril already?
The Dwarf leaned against the rock wall, grumbling: ’’Caradhras was called the Cruel, and had an ill name, long years ago, when rumour of Sauron had not been heard in these lands.’’
’’It matters little who is the enemy if we cannot beat off his attack’’, said Mithrandir drily, with a pointed look towards Aragorn, who did not answer. His face was haggard and his eyes haunted, and all of a sudden I felt pity for him, despite myself.
He was our leader, and we were about to fail. We could die here, in the snow or under the falling rocks, and he was the one who had led us this path. I could understand his anguish all too well, for I, too, had led good Men to their deaths, many times.
And right now, he was not even leading strong, battle-hardened Men. He was leading innocent little creatures, who needed protection badly, despite the braveness of their small hearts.
’’But what can we do?’’, cried Peregrin miserably.
He was leaning on Meriadoc and Frodo, and he was shivering uncontrollably.
I picked him up again and tucked him under my cloak, wrapping the warm cloth around him tightly to keep him warm. Not for the first time I wished Elrond had, indeed, sent him back to his small land, tied in a sack, if necessary. I dreaded the thought to see him die in this barren place. He did not belong here. No-one of them did.
’’What we can do?’’, Mithrandir said. ’’Either we stop where we are, or go back. ’Tis no good going on. Only a little higher, if I remember rightly, this path leaves the cliff and runs into a wide shallow through at the bottom of a long hard slope. We should have no shelter there from snow and stones – or anything else.’’
’’And it is no good going back while the storm holds’’, said Aragorn, more than a little irritated now by the wizard’s never-ending grumblings. ’’We have passed no place on the way up that offered more shelter than this cliff-wall we are under now.’’
The Halflings exchanged miserable looks, save Peregrin, who was still shivering under my cloak and buried his face in the folds of my thick jacket. I only wished I would not be wearing my chain mail; I must have been a rather hard pillow for him.
’’Shelter’’, muttered Samwise darkly, if the word had been a curse, rubbing the fingers of his Master to warm them. ’’If this is a shelter, then one wall and no roof make a house.’’
* * * * * * * * * *