We continue on, west of the Misty Mountains, ever south. Day upon day passes, seeming to run into each other, one not too very different from another. In truth, we sleep during the day and travel by night, endeavoring to move forward unseen.
Gandalf and Aragorn lead the company, both being familiar with the land through which we now travel. The rest of us follow along, making our way as best we are able, often stumbling in the dark. Legolas, with his Elven sight, acts as our rearguard.
Every moment of every day, we are plagued by a lazy East wind; too lazy to go round, it whips straight through. Always, the cold persists. No fires are lit for warmth or food, for fear of being seen. How I long for a hot meal.
Our little company seems to make no progress, if the scenery is anything to go by, for it never changes; I wonder if we truly move forward. How I miss my pleasant walking trips in the Shire. The thought should bring me warmth, shouldn't it? Instead, a deeper chill courses through me. For a moment only, I wonder, will I wander there again? I shut my mind to the memory. I push away any thoughts of the end, for I do not feel adequate to the task of bearing the ring. It matters not; it is mine to bear so we continue day to day.
Whenever the opportunity arises, Merry and Pippin chatter away, asking questions of anyone who will listen, even sometimes without waiting for an answer of any kind. The Man Boromir finds himself frequently in their company, probably more than he would like, but there you have it. He does seem to indulge them most times, answering what he may, to Merry and Pippin's delight.
With so few of us, it is impossible to avoid any member of the company though I've seen the Elf Legolas and Gimli the Dwarf make an effort in that direction. I don't imagine it will continue for too much longer. We are too deeply in need of each other. I sometimes find myself wondering if we are too few or too many for the labour at hand. Only time will tell.
Sam is quite pleased to have his beloved Bill along. I tease him that in a pinch he would surely choose Bill over me. He becomes quite indignant and assures me such is not the case. I insist I still harbor my doubts. Before he sputters another word, he catches the smile tugging at my lips in what little light remains, as the deepening shadows of dusk once again signal the time to journey on.