The Journey Begins
T.A. 3018
“The Ring-bearer is setting out on the Quest of Mount Doom. On you who travel with him, no oath nor bond is laid to go further than you will. Farewell, hold to your purpose. May the blessings of elves and men and all Free Folk go with you.”
The Lord of Imladris spoke then placed his hand to his heart, then out to the Fellowship in farewell. He was responded to by Legolas, Aragorn and Draco.
“The Fellowship awaits the Ring-bearer.” Gandalf called out.
Draco took one last look around, every day of the journey he would think of coming back to this home hopefully with his head intact, he shifted his glance to Lord Elrond, and also hopefully back home with his old love thrown aside.
Frodo walked solemnly past Draco and to the front, only to ask Gandalf, “Mordor, Gandalf, is it left or right?”
Draco smiled, he supposed the innocence of the hobbits would keep the darkness at bay during their journey. “Left.” The old wizard answers him. And off they went, on a journey that held the fate of Middle-Earth in the hands of a brave hobbit and his Fellowship.
With the amount of walking the journey had, Draco was thankful he had forgone the robes and had opted for dark tunics and trousers, and sturdy elf-made boots. He had leather bracers on his arms, his wand strapped onto the inner of his left arm, a bow and barrel of arrows slung across his back, a pair of daggers beside it and a light sword by his hip. He preferred the daggers because they were swifter, but Glorfindel had told him that getting too close to the enemies might not be a very good idea.
Draco had practiced tirelessly on his sword work, archery and wandless magic for the past 17 years since he had arrived here, he wanted to make sure he could still do magic if his wand was to be –merlin forbid him even think of it- snapped, since there was no Ollivander’s in this world, Draco shuddered at the thought of it. The thought of having to actually utilise the sword skills that he had learnt on actual foul enemies scared him, but at the very least he had plenty of practice on how to defend himself as compared to the four hobbits who had never picked up a sword and had to be given a crash course in swordsmanship before they left for their journey.
“We must hold to this course, west to the misty mountains, for 40 days. If our luck holds, the Gap of Rohan will still be open to us. From there, our road turns east, to Mordor.” Gandalf told everyone when they had stopped to rest on a hilltop.
Sam was cooking for everyone, Merry and Pippin were practicing their sword work with Boromir, and Draco was meditating, concentrating his magic so he could cast wandless protection and detection charms around their camp. He ignored everyone’s talking and for the dwarf, complaining.
“What are you meditating for?” The dwarf came before Draco with his hands at his waist, it was obvious to Draco that his complaining to Gandalf hadn’t resulted in what he wanted, so he had come bother Draco instead.
“I am focusing my magic so I may cast a protection charm around the camp.” Draco said before going back to meditating and ignoring the dwarf’s huffs and puffs.
Draco’s concentration was broken again as he heard Aragorn call out, “Gentleman that’s enough.” He looked up to see what the commotion was about just in time to see Aragorn get tripped onto his arse, Draco laughed and his magic scattered again at the inattention.
“What is that?” Sam suddenly asked as he looked out over the horizon, there was a shroud of something dark in the near distance.
“Nothing it’s just a wisp of clouds.” Gimli shrugged it off with barely even a glance.
“It’s moving fast. Against the wind.” Boromir commented as he stood up, concerned. His observation greatly disturbed Draco, it could merely be a group of birds but the worry in his tone made Draco worry as well.
“Crebain from Dunland!” Legolas called out in alarm, “Hide!”
Draco looked around at their mess, he quickly cast a packing charm over their things and dived into a space under a rock, his heart thundering in his ear.
When the Crebain had passed, everyone crawled out of their hiding places. The hobbits and Draco collectively let out a sigh of relief but at the same time were still high on alert, this was only the first of many dangers they met on their journey.
“Spies of Saruman. The passage south is being watched. We must take the path of Caradhras.” Gandalf announced. Draco paled, he was not against the cold but travelling across the icy mountain on foot would surely kill someone if not himself.
They struggled to get a hold of footing on the snow, moving slowly up the mountain. The snow for now was only up to their knees, waists in the hobbits’ case, but the roaring cold winds did not make anything easier. Draco’s face hurt and he was quite sure he couldn’t feel his nose anymore.
All of a sudden Frodo slipped on the snow and was pushed by the unrelenting wind into a roll backwards, luckily caught by Aragorn, thank Merlin for quick reflexes on the Ranger’s part. As Draco glanced back at Frodo to see how he fared, he found the hobbit searching frantically at his neck, had the ring fallen?
Draco’s gaze shifted over to Boromir as he bent down to pick up the ring, the worst person to be doing it in Draco’s opinion. The mere sight of the ring could tempt the man to put it on himself, to hold it in his hands might spell doom for them. Draco readied himself for a ‘relashio’ if Boromir couldn’t resist the evil to pass the ring back to Frodo.
“Boromir.” Aragorn called out, he too was worried about the ring being in Boromir’s hands.
Boromir hadn’t looked like he heard him, he spoke to himself, “It is a strange fate that we should suffer so much fear and doubt over so small a thing.”
Boromir looked at the ring as if entranced, “Such a little thing.” His other hand reached out. Draco’s arm was already halfway up to cast the jinx when Aragorn called out again, “Boromir! Give the ring to Frodo.”
It snapped Boromir out of his trance-like state. Draco watched on as the man walked towards Frodo, “As you wish. I care not.” He said nonchalantly as he held the ring out, Frodo snatched it from the man’s hand and held it close to his chest in fear.
Draco saw Aragorn’s hand move away from the sword at his hip. When Boromir walked past Draco, Draco met eyes with Aragorn and nodded, they both understood that Boromir had to be watched closely, the temptation seemed to be worse to him than anyone else on their fellowship.
As the snow and icy winds whipped past their faces, they struggled in the snow that now reached past their waist, practically burying the hobbits. Gandalf walked at the front, using his staff to clear a path for them.
Draco looked back at the hobbits, their small bodies shivering in the freezing cold as they pant and puff to push through the wind. He pitied them and cast a feather-light charm on the hobbits, so Boromir and Aragorn could carry them easier. Said men both looked up in shock when they suddenly pulled the hobbits off their feets, “A feather light charm!” Was all Draco managed to shout past the roaring winds and he turned back onto the path when they both nodded their thanks.
Draco wished he dared enough to cast the feather-light charm on himself so he could walk atop the snow like Legolas, but he was afraid he would be blown away by the wind as he didn’t have anyone to hold onto him while he walked.
Legolas pranced past Draco and Gandalf to the front where he paused, a look of concentration on his face. “There is a fell voice in the air.” Legolas exclaimed in alarm.
“It’s Saruman!” Gandalf had only managed to shout out before the mountain came toppling down on them. Draco pressed himself flat against the side of the mountain, hoping he wouldn’t drop off and meet an icy death.
“He’s trying to bring down the mountain! Gandalf, we must turn back!” Aragorn called out to Gandalf only to be refused by the istar. Gandalf stepped up onto the snow and started chanting, probably trying to counter Saruman’s spells, Draco couldn’t hear at all what he was doing.
Though evidently it did not work as snow continued to tumble down on them, burying them underneath it. All Draco could feel was cold and numb, it was an odd sensation to know that what was covering you was soft snow but have it feel like immovable concrete. He struggled to dig himself out until a hand pulled him up by his outstretched arm, he gasped for air.
“We must get off the mountain! Make for the Gap of Rohan, and take the west road to my city!” Boromir shouted to Gandalf once everyone had been safely dug out of the snow.
“The Gap of Rohan takes us too close to Isengard!” Aragorn countered from behind him.
“If we cannot pass over a mountain, let us go under it! Let us go through the mines of Moria.” Gimli added in.
Gandalf looked at them, fear and confliction clear on his face. Finally he announced, “Let the Ring-bearer decide.”
“Frodo does not know of these roads and their dangers!” Draco shouted, shocked. Frodo didn’t know about any of these roads, after all he had already said so during the secret council, he couldn’t possibly make an informed decision, why would Gandalf let him decide? It was as if he wanted to flip a coin and call it a day.
“We cannot stay here! This will be death of the hobbits!” Boromir reminded them to make their decision quickly.
“Frodo?” Gandalf looked over at said hobbit.
“We will go through the mines.” Frodo said after a moment of contemplation. Draco was not happy that Frodo was forced to decide but he himself barely knew anything of these roads so he could not advise otherwise.
Draco could see the resignation that flashed across Gandalf’s eyes. He knew something about the mines, something that could potentially bring unnecessary harm to the Fellowship, what was he not telling them?
“So be it.”