・.・✫Four ✓
୨⎯ Chapter 4⎯୧
"Too Much Snow"
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AS THE FELLOWSHIP gathered in the courtyard the next day, I found myself standing beside Aine, our hands clasped tightly together as if we could somehow freeze this moment in time.
"Liairse," Aine's voice was soft, thick with emotion. "No matter where this path leads you, remember that you'll always have a friend in me. Distance may separate us, but our bond will remain unbreakable."
I pulled her into a fierce embrace, my own eyes stinging. "Thank you, Aine," I whispered, my voice catching. "For everything. Your friendship means more to me than words can express. I promise that we will see each other again."
As we parted, I noticed Caspian hovering nearby. With a final squeeze of Aine's hand, I turned to face my guard.
"Liairse," Caspian began, his voice tinged with regret and a hint of guilt. "I swore an oath to your mother that I'd protect you. Are you certain I cannot accompany you on this quest?"
I reached out, placing a hand on his arm in a gesture of reassurance. "Oh, Caspian," I said, my tone softening. "Your dedication to my well-being has not gone unnoticed. But I can assure you, I'll be fine. You should know that I can take care of myself."
A small laugh escaped Caspian's lips, his expression lightening somewhat. "Yes, I suppose I do. It has been an honor to serve you, Princess. Know that my thoughts will be with you always, and that I shall eagerly await the day when our paths may once again meet."
As Caspian stepped back, I turned to join the rest of the Fellowship.
Aragorn stepped forward, his voice carrying through the air with authority. "Today, we embark on a quest that will test our courage, our strength, and our resolve. The road ahead is fraught with danger, but together, as the Fellowship of the Ring, we shall face it head-on."
With a nod from Aragorn, we began our march out of Rivendell. Our footsteps echoed in the courtyard as we made our way towards the gates, the voices of Elves raised in song bidding us farewell. As we passed through the gates, I cast one final glance back at Aine and Caspian, their figures growing smaller as we ventured into the unknown.
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Days turned into weeks as we journeyed southward, the landscape changing from the lush valleys of Rivendell to rugged hills and windswept plains. On a particularly clear afternoon, we stopped to rest upon a hillside.
Boromir had taken the opportunity to train Merry and Pippin in swordplay, and I found myself watching with amusement from a nearby rock.
"Two, three, four, five. Good, very good," Boromir encouraged, his movements fluid and precise. Aragorn stood nearby, his keen eyes following the exchange closely, offering occasional words of guidance.
"Move your feet," Aragorn called out. "Keep your guard up, Pippin."
As Merry and Pippin traded blows with Boromir, their faces flushed with excitement, I couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle. The sound caught their attention, and Boromir turned to me with a raised eyebrow.
"Would you care to join us, Your Majesty?" he asked, his tone mockingly formal. "Or is swordplay beneath a Fae princess?"
I felt a spark of challenge ignite within me. Rising from my perch, I sauntered over to the makeshift training ground, a mischievous glint in my eye.
"Oh, I could take all of you down with a flick of my hand," I quipped, my tone light but confident. "For I am a weapon myself."
Boromir scoffed, while Merry and Pippin exchanged amused glances. "Ah, yes, of course," Boromir replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Forgive me, Your Majesty. I must have missed the day they taught flower summoning in combat training."
With a roll of my eyes and a smirk playing at the corners of my lips, I stepped into their circle. "Allow me to demonstrate, then," I said, winking at the hobbits.
With a subtle flick of my wrist, I summoned a gentle breeze to swirl around us. The air shimmered with an ethereal light, and I felt my movements become lighter, more fluid. Merry and Pippin gasped as they, too, felt the effects of my magic, their own movements becoming more graceful and precise.
Boromir watched with keen interest, his brow furrowing as he observed the change in our movements. "Impressive," he admitted grudgingly. "But can your magic stop a blade?"
In response, I channeled the earth beneath us, summoning vibrant flowers to bloom at our feet. Their petals swirled in a dizzying display of color, momentarily distracting Boromir. In that instant, I darted forward, tapping him lightly on the chest with my fingertips.
"It doesn't need to stop a blade," I said with a grin, "if the blade never reaches me."
Merry and Pippin burst into delighted laughter, while even Aragorn and Legolas, who had been observing from a distance, couldn't help but offer small smiles of approval.
As our training session came to an end, I noticed Gimli engaged in a hushed conversation with Gandalf. The dwarf's gruff voice carried on the wind, his words filled with a mixture of excitement and nostalgia.
"If anyone was to ask for my opinion, which I note they're not," Gimli was saying, "I'd say we were taking the long way round. Gandalf, we could pass through the Mines of Moria. My cousin Balin would give us a royal welcome."
Gandalf's response was somber, his eyes shadowed with concern. "No, Gimli. I would not take the roads through Moria unless I had no other choice."
Before I could ponder the wizard's words, a commotion from the training ground drew my attention. Boromir had accidentally nicked Pippin's hand during their sparring, and the hobbits had decided to exact their revenge.
"For the Shire!" Merry cried, tackling Boromir with surprising force. Pippin joined in, and soon the three were rolling on the ground in a tangle of limbs and laughter.
Legolas's sharp eyes soon caught sight of something in the distance, his posture suddenly alert. The rest of the Fellowship followed his gaze, tension quickly replacing the joy from before.
"What is that?" Sam asked, his voice tinged with nervousness.
"Nothing," Gimli said dismissively. "It's just a wisp of cloud."
But Boromir's eyes narrowed as he studied the approaching mass. "It's moving fast," he observed, "and against the wind."
Realization dawned on me just as Legolas called out, his voice urgent. "Crebain from Dunland!"
"Hide!" Aragorn shouted, spurring us all into action.
We scrambled to gather our belongings, each member moving swiftly to find cover. Sam hastened to extinguish the fire, while others sought shelter behind rock outcroppings and under bushes. My heart raced as the cawing of black birds filled the air, their presence an ominous reminder of the eyes that watched our every move.
As the flock of crebain circled overhead before flying back southward, Gandalf's voice cut through the tense silence. "Spies of Saruman," he said grimly. "The passage south is being watched. We must take the Pass of Caradhras."
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The decision to make for Caradhras filled me with dread. As we began our climb, the bitter wind whipped around us, biting into our skin and chilling us to the bone.
I struggled to maintain my footing on the treacherous terrain, and soon enough I felt my foot slip on a patch of ice. For a heart-stopping moment, I teetered on the edge of the narrow path, the drop below menacing.
Just as I felt myself beginning to fall, a strong arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me back from the brink. I looked up to see Legolas standing beside me, his expression of concern.
"Steady there, Princess," he said, his voice somehow calm despite the howling wind. "You must watch your step."
I felt a flush creep up my neck, though whether from embarrassment or the closeness of his body, I couldn't say. Summoning what dignity I could muster, I straightened up, brushing snow from my cloak.
"Thank you, my Prince," I muttered, unable to keep a hint of sarcasm from my voice. "But I can handle myself. Besides, I was just testing the snow's durability."
Legolas's eyes twinkled with amusement, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Of course, Princess," he replied, his tone matching my own. "I'm sure falling down a mountain was all part of your grand strategy."
As we continued our ascent, I couldn't help but notice how effortlessly Legolas moved across the snow. While the rest of us struggled through knee-deep drifts, he seemed to glide along the surface, barely leaving a footprint in his wake. I did my best to mimic his stride, but my own steps still sank deep into the powdery snow.
Suddenly, a flash of lightning illuminated the sky, followed by a deafening crack of thunder that seemed to shake the very mountain. The air grew heavy with an unnatural malevolence, and I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
"There is a fell voice on the air," Legolas called out, his eyes scanning the turbulent sky.
Gandalf's voice rose above the howling wind, his words tinged with anger and fear. "It's Saruman!"
No sooner had the words left his mouth than a rumbling filled the air. I looked up in horror to see a mass of snow and rock hurtling towards us from the peaks above.
Just as I braced myself for impact, Legolas's arms encircled me once more, yanking me back against the cliff face. For a moment, all was chaos and darkness as the avalanche thundered past us, burying the path in a thick blanket of snow.
Boromir's urgent voice cut through the eerie silence that followed. "We must get off the mountain! Make for the Gap of Rohan and take the west road to my city!"
But Aragorn shook his head, his expression grim. "The Gap of Rohan takes us too close to Isengard," he countered, voicing the concern that had been growing in my own mind.
It was Gimli who spoke next. "If we cannot pass over the mountain, let us go under it. Let us go through the Mines of Moria."
Gandalf's gaze swept over our battered group, finally coming to rest on Frodo. His voice was heavy with the weight of the decision before us. "Let the Ring-bearer decide."
All eyes turned to Frodo, and I felt a surge of sympathy for the young hobbit. The burden he carried was already immense, and now the fate of our entire company rested on his shoulders.
After a moment of hesitation, Frodo's voice rang out, clear and determined despite the howling wind. "We will go through the mines."
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