Frodo felt the first specks of snow fall on his face as the Fellowship attempted to cross the dreaded mountainous road they were to take over the Misty Mountains. The snow relentlessly fell fast and furiously as if intentionally thwarting the Fellowship.  Snow falling outside of his warm Bag End with the fireplace burning was what he preferred, but now the snow fell on him, chilling him to the bone.

His cousins and Sam all looked pale, shivering fiercely. Frodo felt great weariness and could not feel his toes or fingers.  He already regretted bringing his younger cousins on the Quest.  If anything happened to them.

Frodo vaguely recalled Gandalf and Aragorn’s discussing the next course of action. He did not want to give up so soon. There must be a way over the mountain.

I just wanted a bit of rest. 

Frodo was roused by Boromir. Take heart. Frodo tried to keep his younger cousins and Sam encouraged.

But the snow relentlessly fell and the storm raged on.  Even with the Big People carrying the hobbits, it was no use, it was impossible to cross the treacherous mountain.

The snow drift would not relent. The mountain had conquered them.