The One Hour Fellowship Writing Challenge

Icy Feet by Eglerio Hyn


I am cold, so very cold, and wet. I fear the hair on my feet will freeze stiff, my feet along with it. The snow stings my face with each sharp sword like flake. I wish for the Shire.
We are all shivering silently, trying to remain in good spirits. I am not. Sometimes I wonder where the “old” Frodo went. The one mostly cheerful, happy and content, that wished for nothing more than an adventure, and a good book. Now, I have that adventure and I take my wish back.

My thoughts turn frightening at times, wondering at others. The Fellowship somehow looks up to or respects me differently. I do not understand it. I carry this perilous Ring for what reason I ask myself. I cannot remember why very well. Those days are becoming shadowed, the cold and the Ring driving all other thoughts from my mind.

We make camp. I huddle next to Sam and Bill, trying to keep warm with my cloak. A fire will not light and everyone is not happy about that. Gandalf finally does something, and like that a fire is lit. I wish he could just carry us over the mountain and all the way to Mordor. So I could get rid of the Ring quickly, and go back home. Things don’t work like that. I know. That’s why we’re here. Why I’m here. Carrying this Thing in the freezing cold.

Silently I stretch my feet out toward the fire. Warmth floods over them, and the ice melts. I notice that Merry, Pippin and Sam do likewise. The rest look at us strangely, before conversing among themselves.
Pippin tells a joke that makes us all laugh. Merry yanked off Pippin’s cloak in response, laughing as he held it away from him. Pippin lunges after it, and the two struggle and tease with each other until Pippin ends up victorious. I chuckle, feeling better already. Sam’s hand is on my shoulder and my feet are warm. Life isn’t so terrible after all.