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((Sorry I haven't posted in *cough*forever*cough*, mates. I'm going to "officially" drop out of this one.))

"Silence!" Gandalf thundered, abruptly ending the sudden onslaught of queries and suggestions. He needed a moment to think, to consider their options. He'd earlier told Gimli that he would not go through Moria unless he had no other choice, and he'd meant it. There was a darkness lurking there that no one in their company had ever encountered before, and truth be told, he was not certain that even he could defeat it. But this much he knew: if they entered those mines, it was highly unlikely that they would all make it out.

On the other hand, however, they certainly could not continue on their current course. The storm would likely only grow worse if they persisted, and beyond this cliff there was little shelter to protect them from falling rocks and lightning. Barbossa was correct in his prediction that going any further in that direction would be the death of them. And yet Aragorn was also correct in arguing against the Gap of Rohan. Saruman's arm may have grown long, but even more dangerous was his body. The further away from Saruman they remained, the safer the Ring would be.

Sighing heavily, he turned his attention back to the others. "Let the Ringbearer decide," he finally said, fixing his gaze upon the hobbit in question and desperately hoping that his decision had been the right one.

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Elizabeth could feel, even over the howling wind, the air suddenly thick with conflicting emotions. The dwarf was practically bursting with suppressed eagerness under his crust of flaky white, the elf was grim, the wizard resigned and the hobbits uncaring one way or another as long as they got somewhere out of the howling, freezing wind. Belatedly she realized Will was saying something, and muttered a noncommittal reassurance in return, too cold to do more than clutch her makeshift cloak about her.

The snow blew over the heads of the hobbits, nearly obscuring their diminutive forms but not entirely masking their violent shivering. Sam edged closer to Frodo where he stood, a lone figure against the wind, and Merry huddled miserably while snow shifted around him.

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Gandalf said nothing in response at first, instead simply allowing the hobbit's words to sink in. He'd known that would be the choice. It seemed like the most logical answer to any who did not know of the evil that lurked in Moria, and he had no better option to present. They would simply have to face it head-on and pray that the Valar were with them.

"It is decided, then," he said tiredly. "We will wait for the storm to subside, and then attempt to make our way back down."

"We risk being buried again if we remain here any longer," Aragorn argued insistently. "And the snow will only grow deeper. We must begin our retreat now, before it grows dark. We have five strong men with us. Surely with our combined efforts, we can force a path through?"

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((No, we're not. We're not just playing by the movies here. We're going by books and movies and our own creativity. Really it should be Elegost's post or something, but he seems to have wandered off...*goes off to hunt him down*))

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"Mr. Frodo?" said Sam anxiously, hefting his pack with its array of various cooking utensils and stumbling through the snow. All the hobbits were having difficulty but Frodo seemed to most of all...and Sam could not help but wonder at the hidden weight that at rare, swiftly passing moments pressed upon his master.

Merry followed Pippin, which meant that both of them trailed in Boromir's wake. The larger, broader man created a sort of rough trail through the snow that still shifted around their legs. Merry happened to pause, glancing after them, and could still see snow swirling threateningly about the peak high above. He gave a shudder and hurried after Pippin.

Elizabeth, too, shivered involuntarily. She'd never seen such a quantity of snow at one time, and would have replied to Will but for the chattering of her teeth. She clamped them together and fought her way after the rest of the sluggishly retreating group. Defeated by the mountain. Or had it been more than that? Was it just her imagination that fell voices had mingled with the deafening roar of the storm?

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