"Hide!" Finally, letting Rekena up, Aragorn helped her to her feet before pulling her from the clearing to where they had discarded their weapons and cloaks.

"Hurry!" Boromir urged them.

"Frodo! Take cover!" Aragorn called, seeing the Hobbit still in the open. They all now ran to gather their thing, dousing the fire and dashing under rocks and out of sight. As they did, a great flock of black crows flow over where they once were.

The noise was tremendous, and Rekena could near enough hear her heartbeat in her ears, the excitement of the fight still coursing through her being and the dread of being found by spies of Mordor or Isengard heightened her sense even still.

Soon though, the threat had passed, and so the company emerged from their hiding spots.

"Regiments of black crows. The crebian of Fanghorn and Dunland and no natives to this land. I fear they were not feeling pursuit but rather scouting this land," Aragorn said, sadly shaking his head.

"I have caught a glimpse of many a hawk above our heads," Rekena added. "Perhaps these crebian and not only foul eyes scouring the land."

"I have seen no sight of any hawks." Legolas countered, his brow creasing ever so slightly.

"That's because your eyes have been trained on the horizon." She smiled pointed upwards. "Not the sky."

"Hollin is no longer wholesome for us," Gandalf interjected. "It is being watched as is the Redhorn undoubtedly so, yet we must take it none the less."

All eyes turned to look upon the snow-peaked mountains, and Frodo's distress grew among the group.

"Gandalf, many days and nights have passed since Gimli, and I traversed the Pass of Imladris, and even then, the snow was deep. It will surely be far too deep for safe passage of any Hobbits."

"Perhaps not; the snowfall is not always so harsh further south."

"At the heart of winter, these passes are insurmountable." She reiterated.

Aragorn looked between the two before physically positioning himself in between the conflict. "We move south – the pass is still a few days from here. Our only objective is to keep moving; any further obstacles we encounter we will overcome when we reach them."

Rekena dipped her head in a shallow nod which Aragorn returned; he didn't see her fingers moving. What he did hear was Gimli's gruff chortle and poor attempt to cover it. "You know this land better than I – I follow your lead."

"Your observations are appreciated, Rekena – you see things I don't and likely know the mountains better than most," Aragorn said, holding her shoulder to look her in the eyes as he said his piece. It was a strange feeling – to be looked in the eyes – most were far too small to even try, even against the regular man she was tall, and so the dwarves stood little chance. She wasn't used to the feeling, the unconscious unburdening that eye contact brought or the depth of conversation it delivered – to be able to look someone straight in the eyes and convey a feeling or meaning withing having to stoop down low.

"Well, as one who knows these mountains, I still think we should pass through the mines of Moria – our cousin Balin would give us a most royal welcome."

"What I said still stands Gimli – I will not take the path under the mountains. Not while another route is still open to us."

"He is right, Gimli," Rekena told him softly. The fellowship turned to face her, evidently confused why she would speak against her brethren, against a chance to visit the mines and try to contact Balin and the others. "We travelled to Rivendell not just to inform the elves of the foul deeds of Mordor and the black rider but also to seek news on those who travelled to Moria. We have not heard from them in over 30 years – we fear they have fallen to some unseen dark power, one that is unknown to the dwarves."

"It is possible," Gandalf said, his eyes focused slightly beyond what was before him. "Fell beasts are often known to stir deep under mountains."

"Well, there is a chance the mountain pass may be open to us. We should at least try to take it; snow is easier to deal with then whatever darkness possess Moria."

"And if Balin has reclaimed the halls in the name of Durin and a feast awaits us under that very rock, you would have our scale?"

"Then we shall sup with him when this is all over, and you shall have a mighty story to tell."

"Very well." Gimli relented.

"Let's move out," Aragorn called.

The Hobbits rallied around Bill the pony and went on their way; guided by Aragorn, they struck a good path. Rekena fell into place beside Legolas, taking up the rear once more.

"To head for Azanulbizar and Kheled-zâram beyond is folly," Rekena muttered below her breath. Still, Legolas heard her clearly – as was intended for soft word were needed if they were to have a private conversation – there were not only foul prying ears but friendly ones also.

"And yet you follow and agree that Moria is no alternative."

"He is an odd one, but I think trust Aragorn. You seem to."

"He is an honourable man and not just by birth. Mortal men may be young in the eyes of elves, but he has used his years wisely. He has my respect."

"As heir of Isildur, his mortality is a little more complex, is it not?"

"Aragorn has seen over 80 winters pass."

"Impressive for any mortal man, I suppose."

"On the note of impressive feats," Legolas smiled, diverting the conversation. "Where did you learn to fight like that?"

"King Thorin himself and the princes of Durin among others," she shrugged. "I trained just like everyone else. Besides, what dwarf wouldn't want to practice fighting an elf."

"You were used as a training dummy?"

"That would imply that they ever managed to land a hit on me."

"I have seen the aftermath when dwarves and elves clash; we are not impervious."

"They never landed a hit because I was good, not because I was born to elvish parents."

"I never suggested otherwise." He smiled. "Although you do not handle a sword like any dwarf I know."

"Is that so? What makes you so sure?"

"What makes you so sure – you are adamant you are no Quendi, yet I know of no other explanation for who you are and how you handle yourself. Even you admit you were born to elvish parents."

"And the likeness ends there. You are Sindarin, your father King of Silvan elves; there are the Galadhrim to the south and the Ñoldor back in Rivendell. There are many factions of Quendi, perhaps within them, there may be room for me, but of that, I am not sure."

"For someone with such disdain of my culture, you have learnt a fair deal."

"I have no disdain for your culture, princeling – I am most invested in learning of your history and your people, just because I do not speak your language do not count me is ignorant."

"Very well then – what has changed since you travelled those few weeks ago to Rivendell – what happened to the Rekena that almost lost her head to the guards of Elrond because she would not speak Sindarin?" He asked, raising his eyebrow at her. She almost stumbled over a small rock she had tried to jump over.

"You spoke to the border guard?" She took a breath to compose herself. "It is rude to talk about someone behind their back."

"They were more than happy to speak about you; you cause quite a stir, you realise; they were most concerned when a peculiarly dressed elf appeared with two heavily armed dwarves and then for you not to respond to a word of Sindarin."

"Well, I am glad I left a lasting impression."

"I would be more surprised if you did not," Legolas whispered, but she heard him clearly.

She didn't think that the conversation needed to go any further, and so they walked in silence for the rest of the day. The air was chill; already turning back toward the east, there was a bitter wind that swirled among the rocks.

Aragorn called them to halt; holding his fist up to the air, the fellowship slowly went from a trickle to deadly still. His head survived the surroundings while Legolas and Rekena also scoured the land around them for immediate threats.

It seemed straightforward enough, and so they made their stop there, bundling into the hollow in the edge of the hillock. With the overhang, they thought it safe enough to light a small fire. If the crebian were to return, they would be unlikely to see it from overhead.

Boromir and Aragorn readied a fire, and the Hobbits hunkered down into the hollow, seeking respite from the biting wind and the intermittent snow flurries. The wind did not bother Rekena so much. Instead, she stayed on the crescent of the hollow sure that she had missed something. Deep within, she was aware of eyes watching her, but she couldn't find them – it was a feeling not to be ignored, for it could be the difference between life and death these days. If she missed a sign, it could put the whole fellowship in danger.

Turning her gaze to the others, she realised that her worry seemed misplaced. Legolas' eyes quickly turned away when he realised he had been caught. Rekena wanted to pick up the pebble next to her and throw it at his princely face – here, she had been worrying and fretting that she couldn't identify a threat to them. It had only been him gazing at her from afar.

Never one to be particularly self-conscious, a strange feeling of doubt started to creep within – why was she staring, what was there to see. Was he assessing her? Did he believe she posed some threat or had ill intentions toward the group? If he did, he had given nothing away in their previous conversations.

So, narrowing her eyes, she began to look down upon him, hoping that the unnerving feeling of being watched would soon fall upon him. It seemed to him that it was not unnerving but rather an invitation to join her.

"You have them, Gimli has them – I don't know if I have met a dwarf without them, but they are different each time. Are they special, or do they carry significance?" He was reaching – he didn't know what to say without being insulting or prying too deep, and so in a most un-self way, he fumbled his words. Rekena's fingers curled around one of the beads in her hair that he was pointing too.

"They are special, yes; each one means something – either by the inscription or by the significance or who gave them or when they were given."

"What do yours mean?"

"Many things."

"Secrets?"

"Not always – they are there for me, although some are there for others – they tell stories, allow each other to learn what is important without having to ask."

"Well, as someone who cannot read – might you explain?"

"It's not just the beads – it's the braids; both are important to the Khazad."

"You don't have as many as others that I have met."

"My hair changes more often than the others." She laughed gently. "And I have no beard, something else of great significance and pride."

"Pride?"

"Even behind all your elvish self-righteousness, you are some of the most prideful creatures; you cannot deny that, so do not go to judge others for doing the same."

"I would never assume to judge," Legolas whispered.

"I know I was making fun."

"Rekena!" Aragorn called out. "Legolas. Come down to the fire; we need to rest and then move out – you are too exposed up there, you might be spotted."

The two of them jumped back down into the hollow, joining the rest of the company. The natural overhang had allowed them to light up a fire that would not be so easily spotted, and the clouds and mist provided cover to the smoke.

Rekena made herself comfortable again, settling in for the night. Once again, though, she felt eyes on her; now she knew where it came from, she felt no threat but rather a warmth that raced over her. She met his gaze, perhaps thinking that it would stop after he was caught...again.

"Why do you stare? Is there mud, or is it the beads?" He shook his head, a ghost of a smile on his lips, but his eyes did not leave her. "Then what is it." She laughed nervously.

He shuffled closer so that he was arm's length away, gently his hand reached out until he had in his grasp a lock of her hair. Pushing it aside, his fingers grazed her skin before pulling back.

"They say that the Lady Galadriel's hair encapsulated the light of Laurelin and Telperion, but they had never peered into the depths of your eyes, for then they would have realised they were sorely mistaken; for the true light of the Eldar trees resides within them."

She was stunned to silence but only for a moment.

"I did not think you one for chaste whispers under the firelight."

"Nor did I." He smiled. "It would seem you have truly bewitched me, m'lady."

A small smile crept to her lips, grateful that the flickering firelight hit her warming cheeks. Her head tilted slightly as she returned his gaze with just as much intent, pouring over every rise and fall in his face – the softness intensity of his eyes and the cutting edge of his jaw. It was hypnotising. She could understand why she had activity avoided staring for too long previously.

However, her view was soon interrupted as Gimli sat down between them. He turned to her and began to speak; there was no need to whisper, for only they could understand what they were saying – there was, of course, a possibility that Gandalf could as well. Still, he showed little interest in the gossip of dwarves.

Rekena nodded and listened for a while before smiling at him sweetly. "Men shmek menu."

"Gurnvos'comys." He replied with equal mirth.

Her jaw dropped as she thumped him on the arm. "Itkit men gorach! Imi!" She snapped back at him.

"Men caile." He sang merrily as he got to his feet and walked away.

"Namin men burk." She called, throwing a stone at him; it bounced harmlessly off his back.

Perhaps if there were no Hobbits present, she would have got to her feet and taught him a lesson, then they would have seen what a real tussle looked like, but alas, they were in more refined company.

"Do I want to know what that was?" Legolas enquired a smile on his face at the sibling altercation.

"Perhaps not." She smiled back, still a little shocked at Gimli's words and brazen interruption.

"Men goarch, I have heard those words before – Gimli said it to you as we departed from Rivendell. Is it a term of endearment?"

Rekena was sure she heard Gandalf choke a little on the smoke from his pipe.

"Not quite." She laughed.

"You are quite the mystery – your conversation sounded sweet and innocent enough, yet you threw something at him."

"How do you sound to others when you fight with your family."

To that, Legolas said nothing, for his reply would only confirm her suspicions.

"Well, then you understand unless you would have me believe that you have never argued with your sister or your father."

"There have been plenty."

"Do you miss them?"

"You come to appreciate time a little differently when you live for so long, I love and cherish their company, but I do not mind these long times apart."