It was the height of autumn. The arching branches overhead were wreathed with shades of deep russet and rich gold, and the air held the crisp tang that promised cold weather to come. A wind sprang up and skittered through the leaves, whipping them into a frenzy that was heard from the north long before it was seen. With blue skies and the warmth of the sun, it would be a perfect day.
"It is hailing, isn't it."
"It is not obvious?"
A sigh.
"Come now, Halbarad. Are you truly surprised?"
Another, deeper sigh: "Alas, I cannot say I am."