Findel grazed happily on the surrounding grass while Arya packed away the last of her things. She slid her dagger back into its sheath, and rummaged through her saddlebags a bit more. Withdrawing a spare cloak, she replaced her soiled on that she had been wearing since Bree. She stowed her old one in a different bag, wrapping it around her faces, hiding them more carefully in case someone else decided to go poking about her luggage. Círdan had not spoken of the matter since, but Arya still worried. He had no way of knowing what they could be used for, but that just might make them seem even more suspicious to him.

As she was just finishing up, and tightening Finel's girdle a bit, she noticed one of the small people approaching her. He was walking slowly, almost cautiously, but there was no mistaking where he was heading. She straightened, watching him from the corner of her eye. He was one of the ones she had not met before, with light brown hair and fine, blueish clothing. He hesitated a couple of yards away from her, as if unsure how to proceed.

"Did you want something?" She asked, still facing away from him.

He started abruptly, as if surprised that he had been noticed. He quickly overcame his shock, however, and took another step toward her.

"Well, uh, hullo." He started "I just… That is, we just wanted to thank you. Merry and I. You know, for saving us… and all that business." He winced, then cleared his throat. "Well, here I am forgetting my manners. I'm Peregrin. Peregrin Took. You can call me Pippin, if you like."

Arya closed her saddlebag, and looked at him curiously. She watched as he gave an exaggerated bow, almost toppling over before managing to right himself. She wasn't quite sure what to think.

"You are very strange." She mused aloud. "Are all you four related? I've never heard of four dwarves from the same family."

"Dwarves!" Pippin cried, aghast. "Certainly not! We are hobbits, if you please. Halflings of the Shire."

Arya's mouth quirked upward. "My apologies." She said. "I've never heard of a… hobbit, did you say? You'll have to tell me more about yourselves."

That seemed to placate Pippin a bit. He straightened and nodded, gazing upward at her face. "When we reach the house of Elrond, my lady, I would be delighted to regal you with the tales of our people over a good smoke."

With that, he turned and strode back toward the hobbit he had named Merry. Arya just shook her head, a small smile creeping onto her face. She untied Findel and led her toward the road. The day was hotter than the last, but a cool breeze blew over the plains every few seconds, light enough to be refreshing without being a nuisance. The horses were enjoying it, sticking their noses out and snorting curiously.

As Arya neared the others, she was surprised to see Sam leading a small, scrawny horse that she had never seen before out of a nearby thicket. He was stroking its snout and whispering to it, as if it could understand him. She spotted Strider and walked over to him, still leading Findel by her harness.

"You said you didn't have any horses."

He turned, having been gazing out toward the distant mountains. When he saw where she was looking, he gave a short chuckle.

"I said riding horses, lady." He corrected. "Old Bill is a good and loyal beast, but would not last long under so much weight. He is but a light pack horse, to lessen the load. Though I daresay he and Sam have forged quite the bond, ever since we rescued him from Ferny."

That stopped her cold. Her mind spun, but she kept her face completely neutral. "Ferny?"

"Indeed." He turned his gaze back to the rolling fields around them. "A deceitful brigand from Bree. He sold us poor Bill as we were leaving, and made quite some profit out of it. Fortunately for the horse, I might add."

Arya nodded slowly and moved away, not wanting to discuss the topic any further. It seemed very coincidental that she should have killed the very man he was speaking of. Climbing nimbly onto Findel's back, she pushed the thoughts out of her mind. It was no good to dwell on the past, she told herself. Ferny was dead.

Frodo had woken up shortly after they had reached the bottom of the hill, but he was still in a daze, sitting mutely on the ground nearby. Arya had decided to let him be, and not berate him with questions for the moment. That was the last thing he needed after sustaining such an injury. As she watched, Sam walked over to him and spoke quietly in his ear, then lifted him gently to his feet. Together, they walked over to Galdor's horse and mounted it, the saddle barely wide enough to accommodate the both of them.

When they had all packed and prepared their horses, they led them to the road, then turned to say goodbye to Círdan, Galdor, Merry, and Pippin. The hobbits were silent, but the elf lord raised a hand in parting.

"I bid you farewell, my friends." He said. "But do not be sorrowful, for we will soon meet again in Imladris, and there be free from fear and doubt. Ride now in peace, and may your road be ever safe from peril."

Then turning to Strider, he spoke softly in his own tongue. "Cín anand na- neve."

Strider acknowledged his words with an inclination of his head. Then, with a shout to his horse, he spurred it down the road, and the rest of the company followed. Arya fell back next to Frodo and Sam, keeping an eye on them. Frodo was more alert now, sitting up straight and glancing around, but he still had yet to speak.

Soon even the tall elves faded into the distance as they rode Eastward over the plains. Strider led them, riding ahead on Círdan's proud white stallion. They did not take any breaks for a long while, and moved at a brisk pace. Teidrin managed to stay on his horse for the entire ride, though he had a few close calls. He seemed to be trying hard not to make a fool of himself in front of Strider.

After they had ridden for several hours, the landscape around them became rockier, and trees began to pop up around them. Soon they were entirely surrounded by a thick, dense forest. To their left, the ground rose in a steep incline just off the path, about ten feet high. Arya caught sight of several large squirrels racing up and down the slope.

As the sun was starting to descend behind them, Frodo began to doze off. Sam had to steady him from behind while trying to steer the horse at the same time. He was doing an admirable job so far, but It was clear that he too was exhausted, and would not be able to keep up for long, the way he was going. Arya marveled that he had not fallen already. She was about to call for a halt, but Strider seemed to be aware of Sam's difficulties as well, and led them off to the side in a place where the incline was not quite as steep.

They dismounted at the top, and it soon became clear why Strider had chosen that spot for them to rest. It was near to the road, but hidden by a thin veil of ferns, which allowed them to see anyone who might come down the road, but kept them from being discovered. Sam passed around some apples that he had been keeping in a small satchel at his side, and they ate in silence. Frodo refused any food or drink, and instead slept quietly off to the side.

After a few minutes, Colden broke the silence, and began singing in a low, warbling voice that made Arya cringe:

"The dark lord brooded high in his tower, in a castle as black as-"

"By the gods, will you shut it?" Barroth cried, covering his ears. "I think we were all better off without hearing that noise!"

Colden stopped and shot him a mock glare. "Well, I'm sorry if my singing isn't up to your standards! At least I'm trying to lighten the damn mood a bit."

"I was fine with the mood the way it was." Laeric said, laughing. "There's no need to make that bloody racket again, son."

Colden snorted indignantly, but Arya could tell he wasn't really offended. He had known what the response would be, but had wanted to break the monotony. Suddenly, he sat up and looked at Strider, who was leaning against a tree, gazing at the sky, ignoring the banter of his companions.

"Oi, Strider!" He called. "Why don't you sing us a song? You look like a man with a good voice."

Strider brought his gaze down slowly, and ran a calm eye around, noting everyone's expectant looks. He gave a long sigh, and leaned his head back against the tree, silent. Colden frowned, having clearly expected some sort of response. He opened his mouth to pose the question again, but his words were drowned out by Strider's clear, ringing voice, which rose up in a drifting melody.

O great and fair was Eärnur,

The mighty prince of old.

And high and proud his banners were,

The white tree flowing bold.

But there the Lord of Angmar rode;

And men fled before his face;

For terrible and cruel he was,

Bourne of an evil place.

Arise! Arise! Cried Eärnur, stout hearted to the end;

And let not the fell captain win,

Ere we make our final stand!

And great was the clash of arms that day,

As will the minstrels sing;

And heralds on their trumpets blew,

With a great and mighty ring.

But Lo! There came a new note clear,

Carried far across the wind;

Like some cry of gull upon the coast,

Risen high above the din.

For there came true across the field,

The children of the sea;

And at their head one tall and bright,

Upon a great white steed.

And still 'tis sung that proud elves came,

And naught in the world is fairer;

So was that foul dark host undone;

The Black Captain fled in terror.

And so thence victory was afoot;

For prince, banner, and bearer.

Everyone was staring at Strider with wide eyes. Even Frodo had been awakened by the song, and wonder was in his eyes as he watched the man. Strider said nothing more, only closing his eyes. His face was peaceful, almost content.

Though Arya would never admit it, she had been roused by the song as well. It had been so beautiful, so flowing and rich, like nothing she had ever heard before. She had never been one for music, but found herself longing to hear it again. Colden started clapping loudly.

"Woah…" He said. "That was… Well, good doesn't really seem to cover it, but you get the idea. Where did you learn to sing like that?"

Strider took a moment before responding, eyes still closed. "I have travelled far, and seen many things. But in Imladris, as you will find, the art of music is of great importance and beauty. As it would chance, I was raised there."

"And what was it you sang of?" Sam inquired. "It was not like any tale I've ever heard."

"It was a recount of the great battle at Fornost." Strider said. "Where the hosts of Arnor and Lindon defeated the armies of Angmar in one mighty stroke. A glorious battle, but poorly remembered; for Arnor fell soon thereafter."

"That's too bad." Sam said sadly. "I would have liked to learn more about it. Especially the parts about the elves."

He blushed when Frodo laughed at the last part, but Strider smiled kindly. His eyes glinted as he opened them and looked over at the hobbit.

"Then I would teach you of it." He said. "And any other histories of elves that you may want to know, my dear Samwise."

"T-Thank you." Sam stuttered, his blush deepening. "I-I'd like that."

Arya gave a short laugh. There was something so… Pure, about Sam, and good. He had a kind and gentle heart, and if she was being honest, he was the one in this land who she trusted the most, even though she had known him for less than a day.

Teidrin gave a sigh. "I wish I could be like those great lords and warriors in the songs." He said sadly, looking out into the forest. "Cutting down my enemies, leading armies to victory."

"Then it's a good thing you're practicing with me." Colden told him confidently. "I'll make you the greatest warrior the world has ever seen."

Teidrin tried for a skeptical look, but Arya saw that he was smiling happily. She wondered if Colden had been trying to make him feel better, if he actually thought he was that good of a teacher. With him, she couldn't really be sure.

Laeric and Sam got into a discussion about gardening, talking about different herbs and watering techniques, and other things that Arya had absolutely no interest in. She blocked out the conversation, instead focusing on the small birds flitting about in the branches above. They made soft chirping noises every time they landed, almost like the ringing of bells…

She froze. Those were bells she was hearing, not birds. And accompanying them was the soft clop of hooves on the road, coming from just around a bend up ahead. She turned back to the others, who were now laughing loudly at some joke Laeric had made.

"Someone's coming!" She hissed.

They quieted down immediately. Strider cocked his head, listening, and a strange expression appeared on his face when he heard the jingling bells and clopping hooves coming from up ahead. Sam's eyes were wide with fear, and Frodo was crouched behind him as if hiding.

"Is it the black riders?" Sam asked softly. "It's them, isn't it?"

Strider shook his head thoughtfully, but Sam did not look reassured. Then, to everyone's surprise, he smiled. Arya narrowed her eyes. They were stuck here in the wilderness, with no one to help them, and dangerous enemies abroad. What did he have to be happy about?

Suddenly Strider stood from his hiding spot, much to the dismay of the others. Sam cried aloud, Colden swore under his breath, and Arya reached for her dagger. Before any of them could stop him, he bounded down the slope and stepped onto the center of the road. Looking completely at ease, he walked purposefully toward the source of the strange noise. Arya was just about to go after him and try and pull him back when a horse rounded the bend, coming straight for them.