"Your sister is dead, because of you."

The words break her. One moment, Elsa is struggling to flee her country, rid it of her problems and forever succumb to the ferocious storm; and the next she learns that the only person she holds dear has been frozen by her own hands.

All she can see is swirling storms, no longer registering the presence of the prince. Her mind caught in a struggle of retaining coherent thoughts and succumbing to the numbness of simultaneous denial and acceptance. The pain of reality wins out.

Elsa collapses to the frozen fjord, a shockwave of cold emanating from her core and halting the blizzard, rendering the air still. She desires to grieve heavy sobs, but despair clings heavily and all she can manage are silent heaves.

This is it, I am a monster. I kill my country, I kill my people, and I even kill my own sister. What good am I as a Queen? No, as a person?

As Elsa mourns her situation and her sister, Hans approaches from behind as he draws his sword. A smooth, metal sching resonates through the dead, cold air, despite the lack of metal on metal contact. The sword is raised high, bloodlust consuming the wielder, a wicked smile erupting on his face.

Wait, why is this familiar? This storm, the frozen fjord, Hans telling me my sister is…

"Anna is alive!" A burst of euphoria coursing through her body and soul, Elsa rolls away from the strike, the sword careening off the solid ice. Elsa leaps up, forms her own blade of ice, and prepares her defense against Hans.

Except, it isn't just Hans, there's Anna. Both are wielding swords, and maintain expressions of pure loathing that send shivers of cold fear crawling down Elsa's spine.

"Anna, what, what are you doing?"

A sneer forms on her sister's lips, "You froze me Elsa. Froze me and left me to die."

"Anna, you know that was an accident. And I can fix it, I know how."

"Oh how convenient, now you can undo this winter? Why do I find that hard to believe?" Questions Hans as he approaches, footsteps in sync with Anna's. Elsa's backwards pace matches theirs, her hands held up in surrender, the sword dissipated away.

"But I can, I know I can. Please, just give me a minute and all will be well."

"You don't have a minute. Your last chance was in the dungeon and look where that got you."

"You lost all your chances when you shut me out 13 years ago Elsa, and I won't take it anymore!"

The two charge, swords high above their heads, moving faster than humanly possible. But not as fast as a summoned ice wall. Before they can alter their momentum, the two collide.

SQUILCH!

The wall, erected at seven feet high and five feet wide, prevents Elsa from gathering a clear view on the troubling sound. Expecting a dull thunk, the fleshy noise was troubling indeed. She waits for a renewed attack, but none come. After long and cold moments, she moves to the left side, upon which a small trickle of blood is trailing away from. As she rounds the wall, the sight nearly causes her to retch. Hans, pierced by dozens of icicles sticking out of the wall, is limp, even with his sword still raised, and bleeding profusely.

But there shouldn't be icicles pointing out, I swore I maid the wall solid. That must mean…

Elsa turns ever so slightly, repulsed at the possibility presenting itself, and just as she can see around Hans…

Her eyes burst open; instantly her breathing hitches, and her heart skips a beat. She spends a two good, agonizing, seconds recalibrating her thoughts before recognizing that she had woken up. For once, relief spread over her at the sight of numerous blinks of light bathed in dark blue.

Just a dream, nothing more.

She gives the campsite a quick glance over, and determines that a couple more hours were available for sleep. Seconds after her eyelids shut, though, she immediately flings them open again.

Hans, pierced through with ice, and next to him is…

Elsa refuses to continue the thought, closing her eyes once more, hoping sleep will deter her thoughts. Again, after mere seconds, they shoot open again, the image of Hans and…no, just Hans, burning into her eyelids.

Well, looks like I've slept enough for now.

Groaning, she rises and stretches her arm into the air, the other still limp. Running a hand through her hair to mat it down, she's momentarily surprised at its abrupt end, then recalls the details of her "haircut". With a sigh, she runs her hand once more.

Might as well get used to it.

She attempts to make her way to Legolas, currently on watch, but her unadjusted night vision hampers her progress. After a minute of prodding, she finds him at the edge of a cliff, looking down from the small plateau the fellowship had made camp. They traveled little after moving from the battle, Elsa's initial enthusiasm having quickly faded no more than thirty minutes later, her rush of adrenaline succumbing to the pain and fatigue. The platform of rock on which they currently reside juts out from the mountainside, offering a 180º view of each side and of anything below. Elsa was grateful that the darkness blacked out the massacre below. With a soft 'plop', she situates herself next to Legolas.

"What troubles your sleep?" Legolas is not even surprised by his new watchwomen, having heard the moment she woke.

"A nightmare that wouldn't go away."

"Care to explain?"

"No." Elsa's brow is furrowed, but her eyes remain pained, which when put together is a rather confounding look. "Just, give me some time, please."

And so he did, as the two peacefully gazed over their surroundings. However, looking is all Elsa can manage, as her thoughts tune out the rest of her senses.

I finally go two years without incidence, and yet after just mere months here they come back worse than before. Fuck me…and now this journey has left my mouth looser than those women on Crocus and Isen, oh joy.

She lets out an audible groan at her internal monologue, placing her head in her hands. A Queen shouldn't have to deal with a chaotic and fatiguing trek. Sure she enjoyed her marathon walks, as Anna so lovingly described her treks to the North Mountain, every now and then, but not day after day. Week after week.

Then again, I am doing this to stop a 'dark lord' from conquering all. It is a Queen's duty to protect the people. Even if they do belong to a different land.

Releasing her head, she peers out over her surroundings, eyes adjusted to the low light. There was strange comfort, and wariness, to the black and blue landscape. The farthest details appeared to be subtle outlines, with form but no substance. Trees nothing more than lines and jagged edges to keep hidden dark secrets. Mountains, rocks, and cliffs little scribbles which appeared to be done by a drunk attempting to relive glory days long past. The only aspect with actual essence to it was the path up the mountainside they traveled. It glowed a subdued marble white and had a waver to it that Elsa could only describe as a visual hum. There is also peace to it, as though the road were a blissful harp attempting to lull all into a deep, happy sleep. Elsa, meanwhile, is content with only meditation as her mind fades out of focus while gazing upon the milky road.

The graceful silence that hushed over the encampment, apart from the occasional snore, was a first for Elsa. Long accustomed to the pain she experienced from silence through her solitude, Elsa found herself surprised at the content feeling towards this particular quietness. This silence came with safety, and a gut instinct that nothing else will mar the night. Elsa wished for another night to encounter this feeling. Time passes steadily as the sky moves overhead. Legolas peers over at Elsa, and, upon seeing her content smile, feels confident that she is ready to talk.

"Lady Elsa, may I ask you of something?" His quiet question brings her mind and vision back to focus. For reasons she cannot articulate further than a 'good feeling', she smiles at him and gives a nod, her eyes indicating, in a manner, that he can ask freely.

"In your land, and among your neighbors, are women in power a more…common occurrence? I mean no disrespect, but a Queen with no King tis a rare sight indeed in Middle Earth."

Elsa giggles at this question; it seemed so innocent and yet observational. "Depends on what you use for comparison. For instance, I would say relative to Middle Earth, yes. But to me, I would still consider it unusual for a woman to hold such power alone. But when we do," A wicked grin, while somehow also playful, grows across her face as she pauses, "we make sure to make an impact."

Legolas smirks at her change in demeanor, "I would guess your abilities make quite an impression on other kingdoms."

"For better or for worse, yes, they do. The amount of peace treaties I received after my…revealing, could stack higher than Frodo. And that was just the first week! Course, that was nothing compared to the suitors who came flocking for my hand." She sticks out her tongue and grimaces at the memory. The childish display elicits a small chuckle out of the Elf. "They were just as 'chivalrous' as those men at the counsel." She emphasizes chivalrous with the gesture of finger quotes, but Legolas only stares with a cocked head.

"I take it you mean chivalrous in a negative manner, but I fail to understand what type of negativity you mean with…this." He imitates the finger quotes gesture. Elsa returns the cocked head look, but she compliments it with an agape jaw.

"You don't know? Seriously?" He shakes his head, Elsa groans. "Again? How is it I always need to explain my euphemisms, yet I require none from you?" Legolas chuckles again, despite internally acknowledging the validity of her question. "Fine, if my tone was not enough, this gesture is to emphasize sarcasm, at times." This only elicits more laughs from the elf, the pleasant kind of laughing with a person. "But honestly, why I am the only one who has to elaborate my language?" This time the laughter is at Elsa, but she is unable to remain mad and playfully slaps the other blonde. Their mirth continues until a gruff voice interrupts,

"Oy! Being on the watch is not mean to be fun, who knows what ears could be listening." The grumbled voice of Gimli dies as quickly as it came as the solid bulk of the dwarf shifts away from the two. Elsa and Legolas share a smile before looking out back over the horizon, whose sky was now just a smidgen of shades lighter.

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Atop his tower in Isengard, Saruman senses the fellowship's choice rest, a contemplative look set upon his face. He had plans for them to steer the path awry, but such is difficult when said target stops for relaxation unannounced. The harsh winter air summoned to the sky above waits restlessly, unable to cope with the order to stand ground for now. Saruman could not tell for how long the break would last, but he surmised that a few hours were given to him to plan.

Two massive, black doors swing open as Saruan strides into his throne room. He heads straight for the palantir. Having no need to disguise his allegiance, the black orb sits proudly upon its pedestal. As he stops to reach out and spark communications, he calms his mind for the delicate procedure.

He is ready.

His hand grips the dark sphere as streams of red fire spread through the palantir and Saruman. He waits, and he is answered. He begins his talk with formalities, still to leave the impression that he is under Sauron's control.

Lord Sauron, I believe I have discovered the source of the icy void of which you describe.

…

A sorcerer of ice travels with the group who follow the wizard Gandalf.

…

I have captured an avian construct whose creation appeared to be for spy work. I converted it for our purposes.

…

I cannot confirm on them being the holders of the ring, but I surmise that it is the sole reason they would risk travel over Caradhras.

…

My thoughts exactly. Until next time.

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Elsa was confused.

The originally bright and sunny sky that warmed all in sight as they began their ascent was gone. In it's place dark clouds, cold winds, and sharp snow wailed around them. Visibly had been reduced from miles to meters; and the snow layer, at no more than an inch thick as even during the warmer months Caradhras was a chilly pass, was quickly building to past Elsa's ankles. Or, it would if she wasn't capable of walking on top of the snow alongside Legolas.

So where did this come from?

Glancing back at her companions, she finds them scurrying about in random directions, Frodo the most frantic of all. Legolas steps next to her, he too perplexed by their seemingly random actions.

"Of what cause do you find it prudent to wander without purpose in this maelstrom?" The elf calls out, his voice capable of farther travel than Elsa's.

Gandalf raises his head to meet the questioning gaze of the snow striders. "The ring is lost! Frodo, weak and cold, slipped on unstable ground and his belongings followed suit."

"That blasted ice cube is no different than what surrounds us. We will die searching for it!" Boromir's voice bellows out from the back of the group, frustration seeping through his words.

As if listening in on the conversation, the wind surrounding them howls into a stronger force, toppling over the hobbits, upsetting the balance of the men, wizard, and dwarf, and causing Leoglas to flinch. Only Elsa remains oblivious to the new development, rolling her eyes at the storm's attempt to offset her.

Ignoring the swirling winds, she closes her eyes and reaches out with her senses for the cube. It was child's play to find it, the lone chunk of ice with intentions to protect, in contrast to the litany of malevolent snow aimed at harm. With a raised arm, she levitates the cube out of the snowdrift and towards the shivering hobbit. His eyes bulge at the sight, and with what energy he can muster, his arms flash out to grab the cube before stuffing it back into his pockets. Those who were searching breathe a brief sigh of relief before being pelted again by the strengthening wind.

"Elsa! Can you dissipate this storm? The little ones will freeze if we can't continue faster!" Aragorn shouts over the raging winds, huddling Frodo close to him to keep the hobbit warm.

Elsa glances at the snow whirling around them before returning a shout of her own, "I'm afraid not; I can only get rid of my own creations. Natural winters are beyond my control, along with…" Her line of thinking trails off as she hears…words, coming through the storm. She keens her hearing on these unnatural sounds in the wind, and comes to realize it's a chant. "Legolas! Do you hear that?"

Legolas was also focusing his sense on determining the words, "There are fell words on the air."

"It's Saruman!" Gandalf cries, turning his head to face the direction of Isengard. Elsa follows his gaze, looking off into the gray horizon. However, in not knowing the location of their enemy's base, she can only hazard a guess of where it lay. Contemplating her clueless state for a moment, she decides to attempt to expand her senses.

While Elsa may not be capable of manipulating natural, and unnatural, snow and ice not of her doing, she can still maintain an innate ability to feel it, but this is not as thorough as her own creations. She has now decided that must change.

No better teacher than experience anyway. Well, here goes.

She closes her eyes, and reaches out as far as her sense can manage. From an immediate glance, the storm was surrounding only the south and southwestern side of the mountain, the northern half as calm as the fjord back home.

Definitely unnatural storm, that north side should at least show a hint of disturbance.

Directing her focus away from the inconsequential calm area, Elsa narrows her range to concentrate solely on the winds, and to her surprise the Istari magic behind it suddenly acted like a beacon. For miles upon miles Elsa could trace the path the wind blew, over mountains and through valleys before coming upon the open area of Isengard. With a gasp, Elsa's eyes shoot open in reaction to the huge source of power her trace leads her.

So that, is Saruman. Powerful indeed.

A small grin crawls upon her face as she ponders over this wizard who seeks their pain and misfortune.

This should be fun. An actual challenge.

Raising her arm into the air, Elsa wills every bit of air she can concentrate on bend under her whim. Within seconds, the winds around her have calmed to nothing stronger than a light snowfall. The fellowship appears ready to erupt into jubilant cheers before Elsa's storm quiets all. Upon the peak of Caradhras a new relentless wind blows in a circular pattern. Faster and faster its momentum goes, the cold air ruthless to all that stand in contention. But there are ten who are immune; nine of which who gape in wonder at this malevolent bluster which shields them from harm. The tenth staring through the wind at a target far beyond the surrounding mountains the wind howls through. Elsa gives her gale even more speed, preparing for her penultimate blow. She slowly clenches her fist, pulling the wind into a repetitive pattern of its rapid state, then flinging it forward and releasing her hand and wind toward the dark gale and wizard.

The result is instantaneous, as her vortex of wind shoots to the front. The clash is violent and sends a shockwave of air in all directions. All members of the fellowship excluding Elsa are flung backwards into the snow and rock. Furrowing her brows, Elsa pushes her wind further, the opposing gust's resistance buckling under the pressure. With a final shove, there is large crack before all surrounding winds blow directly away from the fellowship and Caradhras, down the mountains, and heading towards Isengard. This powerful gale lasts minutes before still airs return to the mountainside.

Elsa wishes for celebration, but her senses indicate any form of cheer would be premature. This doesn't prevent some members doing otherwise though. She hears Gandalf call out,

"Well done Elsa, that was a startling but impressive display-"

"The winds will be back, we must make haste." Elsa's sharp tone interrupts the wizard and pierces through any celebration. She gives a quick glare towards her companions, but to instill urgency, not fear. "NOW!"

Across the many miles of separation between the mountain and the tower, a strong blast of wind ripples down, pushing away all clouds dark in color and intent. Upon arriving at Isengard it slams into the surrounding land, disrupting the deforestation process and giving even Orthanc a light shudder. Upon the top of this solid construction Saruman is forced to take two steps back to maintain balance. With a snarl he resumes his position and maintains a death glare at the far off peak.

"So it appears our ice sorcerer can do more than mere constructs. More than simple winds are necessary, I must have Caradhras crumble!"

The murky skies grow darker as his chants resume with stronger vigor. Lighting and thunder ring out from the fierce clouds as they restart their ascent to the perilous pass. Temperatures dropped, plants withered, and animal life cowered before the voracious storm.

Back on the winter covered mountain, the fellowship is hustling through, or on, the snow with determination to reach the other side and be safe from further winds. Elsa pauses to allow her companions to catch up, and as she looks back the sight greeting her nearly causes her heart to stop. Clouds blacker than the eyes of a shark racing at unfathomable speeds directly towards their heading; flashes of light streaking in all directions; and, from what she can sense, hail the size of fists wailing on the ground below.

"Find cover!" She doesn't spare a second glance on whether they heeded her warning as another winter wind whirls around them.

That damn wizard, lightning? Sure I can do the hail and ominous clouds, but lightning? How am I supposed to fight that? With colder winds?

…

I'm pretty sure even Anna would hit me over the head for that. Here goes nothing.

Approximating that she had two minutes to finish her endeavor, Elsa spent one minute enforcing her gales to the strongest of her capabilities, before plunging them into the darkest depths of cold she could muster. Unfortunately for her companions, her lack of a second arm for control resulted in the surrounding air also growing colder, with frost gathering on every available space as it creeps down. Elsa grimaced at this consequence.

This has to be a one and done, otherwise we must turn back. I can't hold him back and protect them simultaneously, not like…this.

She glances up at her winds of pure cold, noticing little droplets escaping their wrath at the highest parts.

Wow, I can make it cold enough to liquidize air…astounding.

With a wicked grin, she lashes her ferocious tendrils of winter racing towards the monstrous dark storm that was nearly upon them. The tail streaks of her work visible even in this harsh weather.

The clash was automatic. The clash was frightening. The clash was enormous.

The clash nearly brought the mountains down.

An earthquake in the air, that would be the description Elsa would deem the resulting explosion from colliding storm fronts. Whips of violent, cold air lashing out in every direction, debris falling from each strike. The clouds above distorted into numerous shapes as the volatile air distorts anything within its reach. Lightning spiraling any which way it desired, even upwards to the heavens unseen. But none of this compared the resulting shockwaves. Pulse after pulse after pulse of compressed air rocketed into the surrounding mountains, snow, air, and lastly, the fellowship. The first one slammed all of them, even Elsa, into the nearest cliff, the following blasts pounding them into submission and burying them with snow. Elsa would later figure the snow somehow protected them from the punishing waves, even if her understanding of physics completely disagreed with that rational of thinking.

The chaotic winds stormed for another five minutes before the rampant energy exhausted itself. The crumbling of mountain and rock subsided soon after, but occasional pieces would tumble down without warning.

Elsa is the first to escape from her snow cocoon. With a blast of energy she completely rids herself of the foot thick cover. She doesn't bother to brush off any remaining bits, preferring to mold them into her outfit.

I'm pretty sure my understanding on the laws of nature must not work here, just how in the world did I survive that?

Glancing around in search of her companions, she musters a small gust of wind to blow away the snowdrifts on the path behind her. In contrast to the near immaculate state Elsa had when emerging from the snow, the other nine members of the fellowship were covered head to foot in frost. Anna would likely remark how similar they appear to when she first met her old flame Kristoff. As they brush themselves free of cold debris, Elsa checks the horizon for any incoming weather attacks. She senses that her defense was successful, as her subzero winds are still pushing back the malevolent storm.

Though I doubt I can maintain safety if this continues.

She walks back to the fellowship, making way towards Gandalf, who was blowing on his staff to provide warmth. Elsa couldn't help but hear the chattering teeth of Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin.

"So, wh-where do y-y-you reckon we g-g-g-go from here?" Pippin stammers through his excited jaws.

"We must get off the mountain. make for the gap of Rohan, and take the west road to my city." Responds Boromir, moving his way towards Gandalf and Elsa.

"The gap of Rohan takes us too close to Isengard." Retorts Aragorn, who is still dealing with snow on his belt.

"Then we must take the only path left, let us go under the mountain and into the mines of Moria." Gimli shouts, still eager to visit his cousin. A concerned frown forms on Gandalf's face, a conversation with Saruman playing through his mind. Rumors of ancient and deadly forces discovered by Dwarves who dug too deep.

"Let the ring bearer to decide. Although I think it wise to hear from our sorceress first." Gandalf finishes his opinion with a wary glance to Elsa. The rest of the fellowship follows suit. Elsa gazes upon the horizon once more, then turns to address the nine before her,

"If it was only me crossing these peaks, I would forge on ahead. But considering that continuing any further as a group will only draw out more attacks from Saruman, and, admittedly, I cannot guarantee your safety in such conditions, I believe we need a new route."

Her admission dampens the spirit of the group, eyes taking refuge with staring at the ground or the sky. Frodo, still shivering from the conditions, is staring vacantly into nothing and nowhere. Internally, he is grateful that he only has the safety of his companions to bear in mind, free of influence from the dark object situated in his pocket.

"We shall take the mines." He announces without a stutter.

"So be it." Declares Gandalf.

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Upon his perch atop Isengard, Saruman's look of glee gradually morphs into one of terror as he detects a second wave of winter winds blowing down the mountainsides and straight towards the open valley. He suspends his chants to commence preparations of defense, but precious time is scarce and he can only manage a small bubble that shutters under the gale's roar. As the storm finally passes, Saruman releases his defense to survey the aftermath.

The top one hundred feet of Orthanc is completely encased in ice sheets thicker than armor plating for a mûmakil. The spires nearby cluttered with sharp icicles jutting in every direction. Far below on the now barren plain devoid of the magnificent trees which stood proud for millennia lies snow five feet deep. The pits of iron and fire silent as workers clamber to regain semblance of activity and restart the machines of war.

Saruman snarls at this predicament, and with a twirl of his cloak makes to descend the tower. His snarl only grows when he realizes his usual path is blocked by the ice. With a grunt, he raises his staff to the sky and begins a chant to increase the strength of daylight on Isengard. Upon finishing his mantra, he turns to face Caradhras, and mutters under his breath,

"Forces both physical and magical appear to be ineffective against this icy foe. Perhaps a more subtle and…personal approach, is needed."

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Elsa climbs the last steps of her ice staircase onto the small plateau, grateful her powers where still capable of creating constructs allowing her to skip one-arm rock climbing. Ditto for her companions, as her stairs allowed a two hour climb to be reduced by and hour and a half.

Before them lies a lake, and further beyond the grand cliffs of Moria. The jagged face of the rocks rises high at a near impossible 90º angle right into the misty clouds. Night has just begun, yet the natural light emanating from the sparkling orbs of night is reflected by the solid, sheer face to give a bright glow. However, not a ray of it is pleasant, and many members shiver at an unnatural eerie feeling given off by their surroundings.

They quickly reach the wall, and are walking on the thin path between the mountain and the lake. Various members feel along the surface for a door, while Gimli taps at it with his axe.

"Dwarf doors are invisible when closed." He gives another couple taps.

"Masterfully hidden their own masters cannot find them, if their secrets are forgotten." Bemuses Gandalf as he leads the pack.

"Why doesn't that surprise me." States Legolas. Gimli grumbles at the Elf's quip. Elsa giggles from behind, finding their squabble rather silly for the moment. The two stop to turn their heads at her, annoyed looks on their faces.

"What?" Elsa asks in a singsong voice. The Elf and Dwarf shake their heads before moving on. Elsa follows, but still maintains a smirk on her face.

As they continue their walk, Frodo takes a misstep and his foot lands in the lake. He gives a small cry as he retreats, rapidly glancing all around the lake, as through he fears of something not yet known. Elsa, brow furrowed, stoops down to feel the lake for herself, and is shocked by the unnatural cold that seeps through her hand on touch. This is not a cold from weather influence; rather, a cold that emanates deep from the lake's bowels, warning of danger and speaking of old history.

A little farther down Gandalf has stopped in front of an inconspicuous part of the wall, brushing dirt off indentations of the rock. This area between rocks and lakes contains sparse trees, and Elsa ducks under one as she walks up to the rest of the group.

"Itidin…it mirrors only moonlight and starlight." He glances at the sky, clouds currently covering the moon. As he steps aside the moon is cleared of obstruction and radiates onto the rock. Glowing lines begin to form on the rock as writing, pictures, and eventually, an arch fade into view. An intricate drawing, from what Elsa could tell, has appeared onto the cliff face. Indecipherable words bending over the upper portion of the doorway. Trees snake up each pillar of the arch, a star glowing between their branches, a hammer and anvil above them. The focal point of the glowing lattices is a seven point crown.

"Well, we're here, what does it say?" Pipes Pippin to Gandalf, as he walks over to stand astride the wizard.

"It reads, 'The Door of Durin, Lord of Moria. Speak, friend, and enter."

"What do you suppose that means?" Merry pops up alongside Pippin, just as eager as his companion to enter the great halls of feasts and gallantry; or so Gimli claims.

"It's quite simple, mister Took. If you are a friend, you speak the password and the doors will open." He turns away from the hobbits to face the door, touches his staff to the center, and chants, "Annon edhellen, edro hi ammen!"

A gentle breeze blows on through; Aragorn shifts on his feet; Boromir clenches his hands behind his back; Sam is mentally preparing what to cook for the next breakfast, and the doors do…nothing.

Frowning, Gandalf reengages his stance with his staff and recites another chant. Still nothing. The next chant. Nothing. Fourth one. Nothing.

As Gandalf recites his repertoire of Elvish, Dwarvish, and even languages of old men, Elsa ponders over what he claimed the inscription to be.

Now why would they rely on entrance through a password? That could get too complicated if this mine is as grand as Gimli claims. It would be easy for a gatekeeper to lose track or for a change in words to be broken when messaged. No, a password would just seal the thing shut. So if not a password, perhaps...

Elsa's eyes light up as she discerns the final bit of her thoughts.

A riddle, of course! That works as a ubiquitous lock that only the clever or friendly would know. Okay then, let's see, but what part of that is a riddle? The first is a title, and the second...

A small gasp escapes her lips as she figures the secret to entrance, eliciting a confused glance from Legolas and Sam.

Of course, it would help to know what language they want 'friend' to be spoken.

"I take it you know something about this door our wizard fails to see, no?" Legolas' question disrupts her thoughts, and she gives a small giggle at his questioning eyebrow, which was raised in a rather poignant fashion.

"Correct, but I find this too amusing to pass up for the moment. Besides," She gestures to the lake, cliffs, and boulders, "I see no immediate concern for us to rush in. Let's enjoy this little break."

Legolas looses a small huff before walking away. Sam remains, a small grin etched on his face. He edges closer before gesturing for Elsa to bend down, "You don't know how to say 'friend' either, eh Lady Elsa?" Elsa is momentarily surprised by his quip, before both burst into laughter, earning the stares of all excluding Gandalf. Elsa weakly waves them off as their mirth dies down to a chortle every now and then. Boromir rolls his eyes before sitting upon a rock and setting his gaze upon the lake.

Half an hour passes and still no progress by Gandalf. He gives a frustrated huff as he plants himself on a nearby stump. For her record, Elsa's amusement at his struggles ended fifteen minutes ago, and now small frustration is bubbling under her skin. During Gandalf's numerous attempts, Sam and Aragorn had released Bill the pony, as mines were no place for the ungulate. Elsa moves to approach the wizard before a 'splash' disrupts her thoughts. It's Merry and Pippin, tossing stones into the lake to relieve their boredom. Just as Merry rears his arm for another, Aragorn grabs it, giving an ominous warning, "Do not disturb the water."

Following his words, Elsa watches as the ripples fan through the lake. Just as she turns her head away, one of the ripples shifts, ever so slightly, and Elsa does a double take to confirm her sights. Alas, no abnormal activity is there. Nonetheless, it leaves Elsa's nerves on higher tension as she resumes her approach towards Gandalf.

"Gandalf, just what language is written on the door?" Gandalf peers up at his fellow magic wielder, brow temporarily furrowed at the nature of her question.

Nearby a partially sunken tree a ripple bursts forth from underneath the water, causing Aragorn and Boromir to watch in trepidation.

"Well, Elven, as it was constructed eons ago during a brief period of a Elf and Dwarf alliance."

"Right. Second question then, what is the Elvish word for 'friend'?"

"Mellon."

A creaking sound pierces the air, accompanied by a noise akin to the breaking of bark as the doors open by forces unseen. Within seconds they are flush against the wall and open to all visitors. Gandalf is momentarily stumped, his jaw dropped as far as the wizard would allow it, or just an inch.

"That was a riddle, right?" Frodo asks as he walks in with Elsa. She gives a small smirk and nods. "When did you find out?" The smirk grows, but she waves off his question as they enter the gateway to Khazad-dûm, ignorant of the growing ripples in the lake.

Aragorn spares one last glance towards the lake before collection his equipment and following the fellowship.

"Soon master Elf, you will enjoy the fabled hospitality of the dwarves; roaring fires, malt beer, red meat off the bone. This, my friend, is the home of my cousin, Balin…and they call this a mine...a mine." Gimli's eyes light up with fervor as he boasts. Legolas tunes out the boisterous dwarf as they walk further into the cave before the moonlight can shine no further.

What they do not expect is a slowly retreating Elsa, her right hand raised as she levitates a circular, glowing orb of ice above her head that brightens the room. A room of skeletons. The rest of the fellowship recoil in disgust and horror as they find themselves surrounded by the bones of dwarves long dead. Legolas practically pounces on a nearby skeleton, yanking an arrow out of its ribs.

"Goblins." He hisses as he tosses it away.

"This is no mine…" Boromir draws his sword, as the rest of the fellowship soon follow, sans Gimli, mouth agape as words escape him, and Elsa, who is still maintaining her ice light, "it's a tomb!"

All back away towards the gate, Frodo suddenly at the 'head' of the pack.

"We never should have come here. As I've always said we should have taken the gap-" Boromir's exclamation is cut short by a loud thump and three simultaneous cries of,

"FRODO!"

All whip around to find their ring bearer hoisted by his ankle by a large, dark purple tentacle emerging from the lake. With a flick of her wrist, Elsa launches her arm forward, her ice sphere morphing into a sharp icicle, which hits true. A cry of pain erupts from the lake as a majority of the tentacle rapidly freezes over. Aragorn leaps forward and shatters the tentacle with one strike of his sword. Boromir is close behind to catch Frodo, who falls with the chunks of ice.

There is a lull as the frozen stub sinks below the surface. Within a heartbeat ten tentacles burst forth and wail wildly at the fellowship, striking Legolas, Sam, and Pippin in the gut and launching them at the rocks. Before a counterattack of swords and axes can commence, Elsa stomps the ground and shoots a streak of ice forward towards the writhing mass in the water. Her work is fast, as the moment her ice hits the liquid surface it spreads wide, freezing everything in sight. Within a matter of moments, the mass of tentacles are frozen over, suspended in the air as still as a statue.

The fellowship eyes their frozen foe warily, weapons still poised for battle. However, Elsa is having none of this,

"We must retreat back into Moria, my powers will not hold this beast long."

"Moria is nothing more than a death trap, we must run!" Boromir is already advancing towards the far off cliff, but is stopped by a low cracking sound that quickly gains followers as lines start to appear on the surface of the ice and along the stationary lengthy limbs.

"GO! I will stall!" Elsa shouts at her companions, who need no second reminder to run for the hills, or under the mountain in this situation.

With one mighty crash, the beast breaks free of its icy shackles and resumes its assault in full force, shattering the ice surrounding it. In this new endeavor it raises its large, ribbed head above the surface as even more tentacles lash out from the murky depths and slamming into the rocks surrounding the door, boulders falling to the ground.

Summoning a sphere of pure ice magic, Elsa prepares to fling her weapon before being jerked backwards as a hand grabs her collar and drags her into the mines.

"Come Elsa! Unless you want your other arm to become trapped in the rubble." Gimli's gruff voice bellows as he sprints towards the darkness. Regaining her balance, Elsa dashes forward, only looking back when she hears Aragorn shout for Legolas. The elf unleashes an arrow into the beast's head, which releases a roar of pain before its many coiling arms resume dragging down the doorway. Just before the last gap of light is forever shut off by the falling rocks, Elsa launches her magic through the small space. She manages only a glimpse of her target's movement immediately seizing, and the beginnings of ice spreading out from it's core.

Then, darkness; and the sound of tumbling rocks, boulders, and pebbles. And now silence, save for the heavy breaths of Frodo as he calms down from his ordeal.

Blowing into his staff, Gandalf produces a small glow that steadily pierces through the inky blackness of the underground path. Elsa forms another orb of ice to amplify the wizard's beams and provide further illumination for the fellowship.

"We now have but one choice…we must face the long dark of Moria. Be on your guard…there are older and fouler things than the Orcs in the deep places of the world." Gandalf announces in a cautious manner, his eyes flitting to each member before resting on Frodo.

Elsa had the feeling that an inevitable encounter would occur with such a being, and that none will be prepared.