Legolas raised his eyes and searched the plains before them, keen and far-seeing; while the Ranger stooped to the ground and studied the marks close at hand, the Elf looked beyond, striving to pierce the leagues that still lay between them and their quarry. For many days they had hunted without pause, yet still the trail ran on, and with each hour the peril of the captive hobbits grew heavier upon their hearts. But Legolas did not falter; swift and tireless, he pressed on.
Upon the snowbound Path of Caradhras™, beneath a sky heavy with storm’s whisper, Boromir beheld the One Ring™. Cold and bright it swayed within his grasp, its silver chain curling like a serpent’s coil. A fire unseen burned within its depths, and though no voice was heard, a call slithered into his heart, sweet with promise and laden with power. His breath wavered; his hand trembled. For a moment, the will of a mighty man waged war against the seduction of shadow.
