AVALANCHE

Chapter 15 --- Rekindled

Frodo, bundled in cloak and blankets and secure in Aragorn's arms, stared in disbelief at the only view open to him -- the blocked, snow-covered, impassable "trail" leading up the mountain. Aragorn felt there was no better way to break the news to Frodo that they would not be continuing to the top of the pass, than to let him see with his own eyes what they would be facing.

"But---"

Aragorn turned slowly until he and Frodo were facing the opposite direction -- down. He didn't say a word, and waited for the explosion.

Frodo just looked, the truth slowly dawning. Overnight, apparently, the storm he had 'more or less' slept through had closed the pass. Someone, Boromir and Aragorn by the looks of them, had cleared enough of the downward trail to at least see where it was, although Frodo couldn't imagine how the hobbits were going to keep from getting buried in the remaining drifts. Down, they were going back down. He lay his head against Aragorn's chest with a sigh.

"That's an awfully long way to carry us," Frodo said quietly, "but how else will we manage?"

Aragorn had been expecting a loud protest, perhaps a barrage of arguments, but not this. He wasn't sure if Frodo was simply yielding to the inevitable or if he wasn't feeling well enough to argue, but it was probably a little of both.

"It's not as bad as it appears," the Ranger said. "Thanks to Legolas, before Boromir and I fell over in exhaustion, we learned that the snow diminishes abruptly not too far down -- there, just around that second curve. Once we reach that point, we should be able to travel with enough speed to be nearly at the bottom in one day." He chuckled. "A very long day, I suspect."

"And then where do we go? I heard you say that you didn't trust the way that leads to the Gap of Rohan."

"That, my friend, we will discuss at the bottom of this mountain. Gandalf and I know of one more path we can attempt."

"When do you want us to start?"

"Today," said Aragorn, "soon. As quickly as we can prepare a meal and pack up everything. I wish you could get one more day of rest, but there may be another storm coming. We could be trapped here until Spring."

"Put me down."

Aragorn hesitated, then lowered Frodo to the ground. He knelt and kept a hand firmly on the hobbit's back to steady him. Frodo's head still ached, and he felt shaky and weak. He sighed in frustration.

"Aragorn," asked Frodo, "why am I still so dizzy?"

The Ranger looked into the hobbit's enormous blue eyes. "Frodo," he said quietly, "you were thrown against that boulder with enough force to break a bone." He managed a small smile. "And we both know that hobbits don't break that easily! You struck your head quite hard, but you're recovering steadily. If we were still in Rivendell, I would not have let you leave your bed for many days, not until the headache was entirely gone."

"I'll be fine," said Frodo. "We have to get out of here." He shivered a little in the chill air. "Since we're going down to where it's warmer, and since it's daylight, why don't we use all that wood we've been carrying with us and make a fire and a hot meal? Besides..." He fingered the Ranger's damp cloak. "It seems as if you and Boromir could use some drying out."

"That," said Aragorn with a smile, "is an excellent idea." He carried Frodo back to where Merry and Pippin were talking quietly together. Everyone was delighted to learn that a fire and a hot meal would be forthcoming, and leaped to help Sam prepare things. Gimli and Legolas began to drag the bundles of wood into the center of the ledge and pile them together.

Boromir pulled Aragorn aside and they stepped away from the group, out to the rim of the ledge. "How is he?" He motioned to Frodo, who was quietly watching all the activity.

The Ranger kept his voice low. "He's still in pain, although he's trying to hide it, and he's having trouble keeping his balance." His gaze wandered down the slope, to the boulder at the edge of the precipice. "He needs further rest and quiet, but we have no choice but to press on, and quickly. We have stayed in one place far too long. I suspect the only way we can descend at speed without hurting him is to put him into a deep sleep." He sighed. "I know he will protest."

Boromir surveyed the partially cleared trail. "It will be a long, hard march before we can put this mountain behind us. He will see the logic in it. If not..." The Man glanced back at Frodo. "There are ways to administer herbs without the patient knowing."

Aragorn shook his head, also turning to look at Frodo. "His trust in us is all he has, Boromir, and I will not jeopardize it. I'll prepare what is needed and hope he can be persuaded to take it." Aragorn's eyes left Frodo and took in Pippin, still unwilling to venture too far from the rock wall. "Frodo may not be the only one who may need persuading."

"I have an idea in that regard," said Boromir thoughtfully. "Apparently Pippin's pride is the key to his recovery. One more challenge to it may be just enough."

*~*~*~*~*

Assured by Aragorn that he and Legolas would go hunting as soon as they reached level ground, Sam had wasted no time in turning heated water, much of the dried meat, and some broth and spices into a stew that everyone enjoyed thoroughly after so many days of cold meals.

"Caradhras reminds me greatly of the White Mountains near my home," said Boromir casually, dipping a piece of bread into his stew. "This is not the first avalanche I have experienced."

"It's certainly the only one I want to experience," said Frodo. He took the mug of hot stew that Sam held out for him. "Thank you, Sam."

"You and Pippin were very fortunate, Frodo," continued Boromir. "A friend of mine was less so."

"Was he killed?" whispered Pippin, his eyes wide.

"Not exactly," Boromir said sadly, as he remembered. "A group of us were climbing high on a snow-covered peak. We were barely adults and of course believed we knew everything. We didn't listen to advice, or heed the warning of the mountain itself. When the avalanche hit, it was too late to seek shelter."

"What happened?" asked Merry. He didn't think this was a very good story to be telling in front of Pippin, but Boromir was telling such a good tale that he was already getting caught up in it.

"We were extremely fortunate, as you two were," Boromir motioned to Frodo and Pippin. "No one was killed, although there were injuries and we nearly perished of the cold. But my friend, Berthongil..." He sighed. "Berthongil was the youngest of us. He was one of the most reckless of our friends, but was well liked. He had a good heart and a bright future. When we located him he was clinging to a tree, dangling perilously over a cliff. It took all of us working together to rescue him. But something had happened; fear had overtaken him and would not let him go. He shook and moaned, and would not rise to his feet. He was too terrified to walk, or even to raise his head to look at us."

The hobbits were mesmerized by the tale. Even Gimli and Legolas were listening closely.

"He was uninjured. We urged him to face his fear, to see that he was safe, but he could not. His fear was threatening to swallow him like a ravenous beast, and he seemed powerless to fight back. I knew if he could get up and take a step, just one step forward, he would be free of the beast. If he could take but one step..."

"And did he?" Merry was so entranced by the story, he couldn't wait to hear what had happened. Surely Berthongil had found his courage, and he was even now a stalwart, fearless warrior of Minas Tirith.

Boromir shook his head. "He would not. He refused to even raise his head, or look out upon the world beyond where we were huddled together. The more we tried to help, to push or encourage or even shame him to move or speak, the more he withdrew. I had never seen such a thing, and didn't know the right things to do or say. I later learned that we tried too much, too fast. Finally we had to carry him down from the heights ourselves, and we were at last met by another climbing party that brought us to safety. That was..." Boromir bowed his head at the old, bitter memories. "That was many years ago."

Sam was staring at the Man, horrified. "What happened to him, Boromir?"

"He lives still, Sam, if living is what you can call it. The healers could do little for him. Few now ever see him. He rarely ventures outside of his dwelling, and has existed in fear all of his days." Boromir sighed, his eyes haunted. "It was as if his life stopped on that day, his spirit darkened and crushed. It is a sad thing to see such a wasted life... such bright promise lost."

Pippin suddenly leaped to his feet, staring at Boromir, his face a mix of desperation, determination, and terror.

"Pip," Merry whispered. "Are you all right?"

Pippin opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He abruptly whirled about and took a step away from the group. And another step, toward the rim of the ledge. Merry stood up, as did Gandalf, but Boromir shook his head and motioned for them not to move. Everyone was watching Pippin closely, but he was aware only of the need to keep moving. He forced himself to take another halting step and wrapped his arms around himself, trying to stop trembling. He made it to just a few feet from the edge before he could go no farther. He stopped, shaking violently.

"Now," said Boromir softly. At that, Gandalf slowly approached Pippin, Merry trailing just behind him. The wizard knelt in the snow behind the young hobbit and folded him in his arms. "I'm very proud of you," he said. "True courage is doing what must be done, even if we are very frightened."

"Even you?" Pippin whispered.

"Yes, Pippin. Even me. We see what has to be done, and find the courage to do it."

What has to be done... what has to be done... Everything Frodo had said to him came flooding back, and Pippin took a deep, shuddering breath and raised his head. As he forced his gaze up, and out over the ledge, something shifted inside him; his desperate yearning for home was replaced by an equally fierce devotion to it.

"We have to help Frodo save the Shire, Gandalf." Pippin took another deep breath and stood up straighter, and Gandalf felt the trembling of the small body subside. At that moment, more than 500 years of unconquerable Took spirit flared up hotly and settled into a steady flame, taking its appointed place within the next Steward of the Shire.

Gandalf turned the hobbit around so they were facing each other, and he saw that Pippin's eyes were clear and sparkling once more, the expressive face alight with spirited mischief and a new confidence.

"Frodo's lucky to have you here to help him."

Pippin grinned at the wizard. "I know."

That was all Merry needed to hear. He threw himself at his cousin and nearly knocked him over. "Peregrin Took, don't you ever scare me like that again!"

"Honestly, Mer, I don't know what you're talking about." Pippin eyed his cousin calmly, his breath frosty in the cold air. "Don't you think it's awfully chilly over here? Let's go get some of those blankets Frodo's been hoarding for days. Who does he think he is, anyway?"

Gandalf walked away, chuckling to himself, wondering how he could still be surprised by the resilience of hobbits.

"Sam?" Frodo whispered.

"Yes?"

"Where's Sting? I think I may have to defend myself."

"I will defend you against this new peril, Master Baggins," said Gimli, chuckling. "Although I doubt one axe will be enough to stop him."

To Legolas, it appeared that the young hobbit's spirit and natural vitality had returned in greater measure than before. "I will stand with you, Master Dwarf," he said with a smile. "If we are overcome, hopefully our companions will halt his advance."

"If they can," murmured Frodo. He smiled up at Boromir, his eyes shining. "Thank you."

"That really happened, didn't it?" asked Sam. "To your friend, I mean. How awful."

"Yes, Sam," said Boromir. "It really happened." The haunted look in his eyes eased as he watched Pippin, who was embracing Merry and laughing. "But not this time."

** TBC **