Chapter 3

Light spilled from the rising sun and filled the little hills and hollows of the frozen ground, flowed like dazzling water into each shadowed space, transforming the gray blanket of snow into a field of sparkling diamonds hurtful to the eyes.  Gandalf shielded his gaze against the unbearable brilliance and rose stiffly to his feet, leaning heavily on his staff.  Before turning to wake the Fellowship in preparation for the day’s march, he reached out with his mind and sought the black well of viciousness that he had sensed the previous day, after the cave-bear’s departure.  Where … where … there.  Closer now.  Much closer, and coming fast.

Well, there was nothing he could do about it now.  Sighing, the wizard turned and began waking the Company.  Sam was already awake, as usual, and taking advantage of their sheltered campsite to prepare a hot breakfast.  Soon, the smell of porridge sprinkled with dried and sweetened berries filled their little cavern.

Gandalf was glad of the hot meal, especially for the hobbits’ sakes.  Though none of them had complained (with the exception of Peregrin, who cheerfully complained constantly), the wizard knew that they suffered more from the cold than did the larger folk.  Frodo, especially, had a difficult time keeping warm and Gandalf had not missed how Merry ensured the others kept him tucked tightly between them as they slept.  Back in Imladris, Elrond had suggested providing them boots, but Gandalf had vetoed the idea – the hobbits would not wear them.  Watching Frodo and Pippin shiver in their blankets, Gandalf thought he might have insisted.

Boromir had spent most of the remaining time after they camped working on one of the pieces of firewood they had gathered, testing the wood carefully before choosing a root and settling down to whittle it with his sharp belt-knife,  Just before they moved out, the Man presented Pippin with the finished product, a stout and well-carved sling-shot.  It was accompanied by two small pouches of rounded stones, collected surreptitiously along yesterday’s march as the Company tarried by an ice-edged river to refill their water-skins.  The wizard had wondered why Boromir kept walking up and down the bank, bending down to break the ice in this place or that.  The pouches and the shot-band were made from the fingers of one of his spare gloves. 

Gandalf smiled as he watched the youngster; one would have thought that Boromir had gifted him the moon and the stars.  The little one had to show it to each member of the Company and when he worked back to Boromir, had thrown his small arms around the Man as far as they would go and hugged him. 

Pippin’s joy was so infectious that the Company moved out in a state of raised spirits.   Even the cold did not seem so bitter.  When the youngster brought down a snow-hare, and presented it to Sam for the night’s cook-pot, Gandalf looked over to see Pippin run back to twine his small hand in Boromir’s and walk with him.

Aragorn, too, watched the tall Man and the small figure beside him.  Boromir bent his head to better hear whatever Pippin was telling him.  The Ranger smiled as he remembered his and Boromir’s conversation of the day before, when Boromir had carried back their lost one to the others.  ‘He will make a wonderful father,’ Aragorn thought.  ‘May peace come soon … and may we all see our children laugh at their ease in the sunlight.’

Merry and Pippin engaged in a brief snowball fight, but the snow was dry and did not pack well.  Instead, they ambushed their cousin (Sam being spared on account of leading the pony) and stuffed snow down his jacket.  Frodo wrestled Merry down and was returning the favor when Pippin launched himself like a small missile at Frodo’s back, knocking them both over and indiscriminately tickling his cousins.  Frodo defended himself vigorously, laying to rest Aragorn’s fears that the hobbit was not fully recovered from his illness.  Aragorn was pleased to see Frodo laughing as hard as little Pippin; ever since Weathertop, the Ranger had watched helplessly as shadows gathered in the Ringbearer’s beautiful eyes.  Though Frodo would not speak of it, Aragorn feared that the burden of the Ring grew heavier.  He could do nothing but watch as Frodo grew increasingly silent and strained.   Any reprieve for the Ringbearer was a moment to be treasured.  When Gandalf finally called a halt, all three of the halflings were panting and soaked, and the Ranger made them change into dry clothes.

The wizard walked a little away from the group, and stood silently leaning on his staff, eyes closed, form rigid.  Aragorn came up to him and they exchanged soft words.  As soon as the hobbits were re-dressed and all had caught their breath, Gandalf insisted they continue on, at a faster pace than before.  Aragorn dropped to the rear and spoke with Boromir then drifted over to Gimli and Legolas.  Those spoken to placed their hands on their weapons and shortened the space between them along the line of their march.

The hobbits did not notice.  The snow had returned and the temperature plummeted.  Caradhras’ mood had turned cruel again.  There was no soft laughter and murmured conversations now; the increasing cold froze the snow crust and it required all the hobbits’ concentration to raise up and place their feet directly down instead of walking normally, so that the frozen crust did not cut their legs like the edges of a knife.  It was exhausting for them and Gandalf again wished he had forced boots on the hobbits.

They continued on as long as there was light to see by, one weary step after another.  Night came with startling swiftness.  This time it was Gimli, with his miner’s eye, who discovered the protruding rock shelf which flowed down to form a shallow, three-sided shelter.  Not as deep as their previous night’s resting place, the little cave still would allow room to stable Bill and let them all crowd inside.  Merry inspected the rock walls thoroughly and, with relief, reported no claw-marks on the walls anywhere.  But Gimli was unsure; he was concerned about the high rock pile resting on the shelf above the cave mouth.  Snow covered the details and the Dwarf could not see how stable the white-blanketed rocks were.

The cold and the darkness deepened while Gimli, Aragorn and Gandalf discussed their options.  At Legolas’ suggestion, Sam guided Bill down to the ground, and the hobbits clustered around his withers, absorbing his heat.  Knees drawn up to their chests and backs pressed against the pony, the hobbits shivered and awaited the wizard’s decision.  

Gimli wanted to continue on but Gandalf was adamant they stop.  Legolas volunteered to scout ahead, and running lightly over the snow, disappeared into the distance.  To add to their misery, the wind had risen and the blown snow stung against their faces like the bites of tiny, sharp-fanged insects.  The little cave would cut the wind and allow them a fire, and Gimli gave in when Legolas returned and could report no better place within a half-hour’s march.  The Company would have been more at ease had not Gimli gone outside again, to stare about the opening and rumble into his beard.

As Sam built up the fire, Gandalf gathered the Company close and told the hobbits what the others already knew.  “Something comes,” the wizard began.  “Something very large and very evil.  I felt it first yesterday.”  Sam looked up at him but said nothing, continuing only to lay out his ‘taters and other ingredients for the night’s stew.  “At the speed it is moving, it will arrive here within two hours.  It is –“

“How do you know it’s coming here?” Pippin interrupted. 

“Pip, be quiet,” Merry whispered.

The wizard frowned at them both then continued.  “I feel it as a great hunger.  A great … darkness, a fury…   Something drawn from great depths high on the mountain and sent to attack us.  It is –“

“What do you mean ‘drawn?’  What -”

“Pip!”

“It is coming for the Ring.”  Aragorn’s voice cut through Pippin’s soft argument with Merry and silenced the breath of those gathered there.  The Ranger’s sorrowing eyes moved to the Ring-bearer, who had turned a deathly white and who sat stiffly, his right hand clutching that which hung at his breast.  Shadows again filled his beautiful eyes.

“We must prepare for it,” Aragorn continued.  “This poor cave is the most defensible place we can find and fortify before it arrives.”

It was Frodo who spoke first.  “What must we do?”

The Ranger nodded at him, grateful for the little one’s calm.  “We must gather as much wood as we have, every faggot from our supplies and all we can find.  Gandalf  will do that.  Gimli and Boromir and I will roll what large rocks we can find to block the entrance.  Perhaps that will slow it.  Legolas will make as many arrows as he can from our stocks here, then help us.  You four…” Aragorn hesitated and saw the hobbits lift frightened but determined faces to him.  “Frodo, if you will help Gandalf.  Unpack our stored firewood.  I do not want you to leave the cave.  Merry and Pippin …you can wrap rags around Legolas’ arrows and rub pitch from the barrels on them.  Wrap the arrows with anything that will burn quickly and hot.”

Aragorn watched them narrowly.  “Most importantly, you three must defend Frodo.  If any here falls, the others must bring it down.   Above all, above everything, it must not take the Ring.”

Behind him, Legolas had already seated himself cross-legged next to the fire and was running his long hands along the sticks Sam had set aside for firewood.   Wordlessly, Boromir added his arrow-making supplies to the arrow points, fletchings and other items laid out before the Elf.

Gimli rose to his feet with a puff.  “Come, good Men.  It will take a Dwarf’s strength to move those boulders off to the side of this little place.  We will need to anchor the larger rocks with smaller, driven into the ground, so that the creature may not push the facing-stones back.  The largest stones must be placed carefully.”  So saying, he and Boromir exited into the night and a moment later, they heard a grunt and the slide of stone on frozen earth.

Standing beside Aragorn, Gandalf sighed as the Ranger moved to fetch his own arrows and arrow supplies for Legolas before aiding Gimli.  “Sam, if you will continue with dinner, please.  We will need our strength.  And it would be a shame to waste Pippin’s rabbit, after he finally succeeded in getting one.”  The youngster had the imprudence to wrinkle his nose at him before turning back to help Merry pry open one of the small storage barrels carried by the pony.

As the wizard had half-expected, after a moment Frodo rose and came to him.  They moved off to the side, away from his cousins’ attempts to break the staves out of the barrel and get at the pitch between its slats.  Above the splintering noises and an occasional “oof!”, Frodo tugged on Gandalf’s robe so that the wizard would kneel and they could speak face to face. 

“Send them away, Gandalf.”  The Ring-bearer’s face was set, eyes huge in the pale face.  The wizard started to shake his head and Frodo pressed on desperately.  “They won’t be any good in a fight – you know that.  We know that.  Hobbits aren’t warriors.  They’ll only get themselves killed.  Killed protecting me.”

The wizard reached out and placed his hands on the Ringbearer’s small shoulders.  “Where would they go, Frodo?  Do you think they would have any chance, out there in the cold, in the dark?  And do you think they would consent to go?  We could load Bill up with all they would need and they still would not survive Caradhras.  There is no safety in fleeing.”

Frodo tried to speak again but Gandalf overruled him.  “And what if they did?  What would it matter, if the Enemy took from your body the Ring?  It would reach him somehow, you know.  The Ring longs to return to its Master, Frodo, and eventually, it would reach him.

“Would those you love have any safety, then?  There will be no safety anywhere, for anyone.  It would only be a matter of time before his attention turned to the Shire, then all and everything you love would suffer the more because you dared to defy him.

“My dear friend, Sam and Merry and Pippin’s only hope is to stay with us, and fight.  Here, with us, they have a chance.  Out there, they will surely die.”

Frodo covered his face with his hands.  “It is as you say.  But Gandalf…” the Ring-bearer begged, “…you will protect them?”

“To the end of my strength, Frodo,” the wizard said softly.  “For love of them – and you.”

* TBC *