Long ago had they passed the Ford of Bruinen, leaving the road and turning southward. Their purpose was to hold this course for some time to come, with the Mountains to their east. The foothills and scree of the great Misty Mountains was rough land, barren for many years – a great contrast to the rolling greens sustained by the Great River.

Gandalf led the Company from the front, and with him went Aragorn, who seemed to know this land even under the cover of darkness. The rest filed behind, and Legolas was the rearguard, it was there that Rekena took her place, she may not have felt Quendi but her eyes were elvish enough and so she held the rear.

Though they were well clad, the cold could not be subdued, and the littlest of their fellowship suffered from the icy blast of the mountain. Whenever they laid to rest it was an uneasy, agitated sleep only worsened by their meals being cold and cheerless, for lighting a fire had posed too great a risk.

Rekena suffered less than others, the cold did not bite as hard and she needed little food to sustain her, even so the journey was no less miserable – they found cheer though where they could. She may not have known the unseen path as well as Aragorn did, but she knew these hills and the mountains which stood watch over them. Bazar, Zirak and the like, all standing tall over the caverns of Khazad-dûm – the mountains that filled the many songs of her people and was stamped into their metalworks.

The Company had gathered by Gandalf and Frodo who looked out upon the hills. "We have done well; we have reached the borders of the country Men once called Hollin."

"The Eregion Hills," Rekena smiled. "Must be near forty leagues we have travelled."

"Five-and-forty as the crow flies from Rivendell." Aragorn agreed. "The Lord and Lady of Lothlorien used to rule these hills and the elf kingdom upon them."

"The mountains are ahead of us," one of the Hobbits spoke, voicing his concern – it was Pippin. "We must have turned east in the night."

"Look, for the light of day is clear and you can see further," said Gandalf. "Beyond those peaks the range bends south-west."

"There the Misty Mountains divide, and between their arms lies the deep-shadowed valley Azanulbizar." Gimli spoke, his eyes fixed ahead with a deep and mystic light.

"The elves call it Nanduhirion, is it for the pass that we head Gandalf?"

"It is for the Dimrill Dale that we are making, if we climb the Redhorn gate under the far side of Caradhras we shall come down by the Dimrill Stair into the deep vale, there lies the Mirrormere and the River Silverlode."

"Dark is the water of Kheled-zâram and cold are the springs of Kibil-nâla. My heart trembles at the thought that I may seem them soon." Gimli smiled.

"Hopefully you will have the joy of the sight my good dwarf," said Gandalf. "I think we shall rest here, not only today but tonight as well. There is a wholesome air about Hollin."

They set up their makeshift camp and lit a fire in a deep hollow, shrouded by great bushes of holly. Where the scrub gave way to dirt and to sand Boromir stood with Merry and Pippin, he had to decide to hone the skills of the small ones and finally give into their pleading for instruction regarding their swords. Aragorn sat on a rock not far from them, pipe in hand and eyes narrowed as he observed the Hobbit's and their instructor.

Sam and Frodo sat further away still, they were enjoying the warm food the fire had provided and seemed to have little want to participate in sword play but enjoyed the amusement and so watched on anyway.

Gimili still stood with the wizard pleading his case for the route of Khazad-dûm, as for the elf she hadn't thought to look where Legolas had run off to, for Rekena had become far too amused by the sword lesson being held by Boromir.

Merry and Pippin wielded Daggers of Westernesse, Barrow-Blades from the Barrow-downs, a great and hansom gift from whomever had furnished the Hobbits with such weapons. No more than daggers in the hands of most, in the grip of Hobbit it seemed a pointy and formidable weapon, if one chose to forget the lack of ferocity and fighting skill of Hobbits. Perhaps with the right training the Barrow-blades could become true swords of halflings. It seemed only the Ring-bearer carried something different, a blade not from the Barrow-downs but an ancient Elvish blade made by weapon-smiths in Gondolin – the work of the finest Elvish smiths in the Eldar days and one did not have to be an elf to see as much. Relics of the lost Dwarven strongholds of Belegost and Nogrod were made by the hands of Gondolindrim craftsmen and served as a reminder of the greatness of Beleriand that was lost to the War of Wrath and with it that ancient gold age.

Rekena longed for a blade of such prestige, the sword that sat snug in her quiver aside her arrows was of little note. It was not like the hand-a-half powerful blades wielded by the men of the company; it was a slimmer and shorter nameless sword that had served her well in the past.

"Good, very good." Boromir coached Merry, turning his attention to Pippin and continuing to practice.

"Move your feet." Aragorn said, his eyes watching closely.

"You look good Pippin," said Merry, cheering on his cousin who was doing a commendable job avoiding Boromir's blade, slow though it was.

"Thanks," Pippin replied with a short glance over his shoulder, beckoning Merry into the fray. They were going through simple movements, getting used to the grip and the motions. Sam and Frodo looked on grinning.

Suddenly and through little fault of his own Boromir's sword slipped and that slightest of motion led to the sword cutting Pippin's hand. With a mighty and pained growl Pippin dropped his sword and grabbed his hand in shock.

"Sorry!" Boromir cried, stepping forward to look at Pippin's hand but before he could assess the damage a quick but sharp blow was delivered to his shin – Pippin had kicked him in the leg.

"Get him!" Merry yelled a mighty war cry, throwing himself at Boromir. The two small Hobbits wrestled the far larger Boromir to the ground, pouncing and tackling until they were jumping atop the fallen man.

Aragorn looked on amused, as did Rekena who had repositioned herself next to the Ranger for a better view of the carnage.

"For the Shire." Pippin cried but his call to arms was drowned out by Boromir's loud and hearty laugh. "Hold him, hold him down Merry!"

"Gentlemen, that's enough," laughed Aragorn who had stood and grabbed hold of the mischievous Hobbits, but they simply turned on him, grabbing a leg each and throwing him backwards onto the ground but he easily shook them off. Undeterred Pippin turned to Rekena a beaming grin stretched across his lips.

"Will you teach us m'lady for you look like the most formidable of foes and there is little more we can learn from the Gondorian, for we have already bested him and near enough Strider as well."

"Boromir and Aragorn can handle themselves better than most – I would not dare to insult them by thinking myself a better teacher then they."

"A fight perhaps?" Aragorn asked, brushing the dust of his clothes left there by the Hobbit's tackle.

"Masters Merry and Pippin are far too advance for the likes of me." Rekena chuckled but her eyes narrowed as she realised what he meant, he had drawn his sword and offered her a bow.

"Are you challenging me?"

"Perhaps."

"Then let it be known," said Rekena, drawing her own blade. "I accept your challenge."

"Watch closely." Boromir instructed the Hobbits, hurrying them out the way to sit upon the rock Rekena and Aragorn had sat on moments before. Frodo and Sam hushed and paid closer attention and even Gimli had turned away from his arguing – he would enjoy watching Rekena best this King of Men.

The standoff seemed to last an age, both opponents assessing the other and biding their time until, like the fury of Mordor released, the two pounced.

The clash of steel was a chilling noise but Rekena and Aragorn were careful to avoid its bite, pirouetting away from the advancing blows of each opponent's sword. It was a masterful dance that the Hobbit's watched aghast for it was perhaps the first time they had seen swords put to use in the light of day and in such a display of splendour as well.

With each blow the dance became more and more intense, their feet moving carefully yet ever so quick. Even Legolas had torn his eyes away from the horizon to watch the two trade blows. A sharp parry from Rekena meant Aragorn's next swing was uneven and it nearly glanced off her shoulder.

She had to smile for they were well matched and finally she was able to do that which she was best at – not shoot elven trees with elven bows but match each stroke of a worthy opponent and fight.

Their attacks increased in ferocity until the two of them noticed that the wonder of the Hobbit's had morphed to horror; for they truly believed that soon one of them was going to come to some form of harm.

A look of understanding was shared between Rekena and Aragorn, they parted for a second readjusting themselves and squaring up once again. Rekena span her blade over the back of her hand twice while Aragorn's feet shifted. Suddenly she dove, copying the approach of Merry and Pippin she ducked under his sword and tackled him from the waist, catching him of balance, they were now down in the dirt. The Hobbit's were on their feet cheering and Boromir's infectious laugh once again filled the camp. Gimli himself cheered from afar while Gandalf and Legolas remained silently impressed but they couldn't stop the smiles that slipped from their lips.

They tussled in the dirt for a bit, brawling with no real skill nor discipline. Like before when they were on their feet neither fought hard enough to gain the upper hand and in that way, they found their discipline – in their restraint, for they were both skilled and powerful but now was not the time to see who would truly win for this was camp entertainment for weary travellers.

Sam suddenly stood, halting the brawling with his quick movement distracting Aragorn and Rekena though he had managed to pin her, and she had delivered a sharp blow to his gut.

"What is that?" Sam called, pointing to a cloud like a dark spec on the horizon.

"Nothing, its just a whisp of cloud." Gimli reassured him but even he did not sound too sure.

"It is moving fast, against the wind." Rekena said, still pinned by Aragorn but could see clear as day that the object was not what it seemed.

"Crebain! From Dudland!" Legolas cried out, for a great darkness was bearing down on them.