Chapter 5: The Third Encounter: Part II

Morning rays of springs sunlight permeated through the fresh leaves of the ash and oak trees that hung over the terrace. Dew drops sparkled like crystal ornaments from their lush green leaves, bringing a tranquil atmosphere to the breakfast table.

Thorin had awoken at dawn and the morning mist was beginning to disperse from the earth when he exited his chambers. By the raucous choirs of various snores rumbling from farther down the hall, he assumed the rest of the company were taking advantage of their current situation and were sleeping in.

He on the other hand been restless all through the night. His mind plagued with worry, wonder, and wanting.

In need of fresh air and more space than the small confines of his room, he had found himself on the same terrace in which they had dined the night before. To his pleasure, a small breakfast spread was already arranged and awaiting. Having hardly touched his food from supper, Thorin was more than willing to sit himself down and partake of the food ,despite the lack of meat provided.

With nothing but the soft chirps of birds to break silence, his solitude was peaceful but short lived when he heard the light footsteps of someone else approaching. Given the lightness, he had expected an elf but it was Sigurd who came out from the arched entrance.

He noticed her come up short when she saw him sitting at the table but after a short bout of hesitation, she timidly walked up to the table and took a seat on the other side of the table just slightly to his left.

Thorin watched her from the corner of his eye. The way she elegantly served herself and shyly greeted him with a soft, but polite salutations, was familiar to another person he knew. Although perhaps slightly more timid than when he had first met Asha, her mannerisms were very similar.

Asha had been witty and bold, but it was the warm gentleness that she had when speaking with others that he found the similarity. He had seen the way Sigurd had kindly spoken with his men during dinner last night. Especially with his youngest nephew.

Kíli had always been different than his peers. Thorin had never understood it, but Kíli always had a hard time speaking with them and struggled even more in making friends of them. The older generations always seemed to get along with him but it was those of his age group that Kili struggled with.

It was certainly not for lack of trying. For years Thorin could not help but notice the distance that the younger dwarfs of their community would give Kíli. There were only a handful that tolerated him and Thorin often wondered if it was only because of Fíli.

Fíli was the perfect example of a dwarf that others were always comparing Kíli to. He excelled at almost everything he tried where Kíli often struggled. He lacked the focus that his elder brother had. Thorin knew this was why Fíli always looked out and protected his younger brother so closely. Thorin was certain that it was more guilt than any brotherly bond that caused Fíli to have that urge to protect him. Thorin admired his nephews tenacity to look after his brother but often times he wondered if he was unintentionally crippling Kíli by doing it.

Kíli reminded Thorin of his own younger brother. He remembered having that same feeling of guilt. But he also remembered the day that Frerin had asked him to stop treating him like a brother and instead as a peer. He remembered being hurt by his brothers words at first but when he stepped back and let his brother struggle on his own, he realized something else. His brother was becoming stronger and more confident in himself. In fact, Thorin often wondered if he created a narcissistic monster by letting his brother become so self assured.

Thorin smiled at the memory of his little brothers arrogance but it was short lived and the familiar ache of loss that filled his chest brought him back to reality. He looked at Sigurd again and contemplated her.

"How long have you known Asha for?"

His curiosity had gotten the better of him and with only the birds to fill the silence, he kept finding his mind wandering to the matters in which deprived him of his sleep. So he extended the question in hopes for a distraction.

Upon hearing him speak, Sigurd paused in her chewing and looked at him. He could see the intimidation in her eyes and began wondering if she would suddenly run away. But to his surprise she slowly finished chewing, swallowed, then gave him a small smile. It was an action that was so much like Asha. The transformation from timid to polite conversationalist.

"All my life," she answered. "Asha was the one who raised me."

Thorin did not miss the phrasing of her words.

"Raised, but not give birth?"

She nodded. Thorin could not help but feel a twinge of relief he knew he should not have felt. But it was there all the same. The coloring of Sigurd's hair reminded him too much of Ivor. Combined with the mannerism of Asha, he could not ignore the possibility of it. They had been married making it not implausible.

Ivor.

His blood curdled at the thought of the man.

He noticed Sigurd looking at him strangely then realized he had his fork in a death grip and felt his face had creased itself in anger. He could only imagine the hateful look he was currently giving her and he quickly forced himself to push down the heated ire. With a deep breath he looked at her again with his best effort to soften his features.

"So no blood relation but she is your adopted mother?" Thorin inquired.

A small frown pulled at her lips and she looked down at her plate.

"No," she said quietly before looking up. "It is...complicated. She did raise me, but...I had my own mother."

Thorin could see pain behind those blue eyes and knew there was much more to the story. But he recognized the want of avoidance to speak of painful memories all too well. He let the matter go and moved on to another question that had been plaguing his mind since last night.

"What do you know of a man by the name of Ivor?" Thorin asked as he did his best not to spit out a cursing along with the name.

Long ago he would have assumed without hesitation that the man had perished with the others locked away in Dhom. He was the one person in which he always felt deserved that damning fate. But that was before he knew anyone had managed to escape. Now, he was not so certain.

Sigurd's downcast expression shifted into puzzlement.

"Ivor?" she echoed. Her face crumpled as if straining to recall something. After giving his question much thought she gave a sincere answer. "I do not recall knowing anyone by that name. Nor does it bring anything to mind. Why do you ask?"

Thorin traced her face, unsure if he really believed her words. Surely if this girl had been raised by Asha as she claimed, she would have heard at least mention of the man.

"I knew Asha before...when she still identified herself as the Brimir heir. She was married to a man by the name of Ivor just before Dhom fell."

Clarity seemed to come to Sigurd's face as she nodded in understanding.

"We are...forbidden...to speak of times before." Sigurd said hesitantly.

"Forbidden?" Thorin parroted. "By whom? Who are we? The rest of the survivors?"

It was obvious that they had just breached into a topic that Sigurd was not necessarily unwilling to share, but more of unsure if it was allowed. She opened her mouth to answer, struggled to form words, then shut her mouth again. Suddenly her eyes strayed from him and settled on something just past his shoulder.

Thorin turned his head to follow the girls attention to see Thyra standing at the top of the stairs that descended down into the gardens below.

Dressed in a similar attire as the night before, this time with a plum tunic beneath the brown leather to cover her arms and hide her tattoos. Her hair was woven and pleated at the sides then pulled up into a ponytail and left to fall heavily down the straight of her back. The focus of her dark eyes were solely on Sigurd.

With a masked expression she spoke to Sigurd in Régínn. Her tone sounding rigid and accusing.

Thorin looked back to Sigurd who nodded and slowly stood from her half eaten plate.

"I must excuse myself," she said in a polite apology. "I have a lot to do in a short amount of time today."

She was gone before Thorin could even acknowledge her excusal. As she disappeared he turned back to see Thyra was now watching him.

It was not threatening nor warying but instead it was a small glimmer of curiosity. Seeing that he was watching her in return, she moved closer and took a seat next to Sigurd's recently vacated spot, centering herself directly across from him. Thorin watched her survey the arrangement and noticed that she seemed dissatisfied with the choices as well.

"My grandfather always told me that a meal was never ready to be consumed until the pig and hen were present," Thorin commented as he watched her sniffing at a strange colored, root like vegetable.

Her dark eyes flashed from the table spread up to him.

For a moment he thought she would ignore him and go back to picking at the various dishes but something changed in her eyes.

They brightened. And then the left corner of her mouth twitched into a smirk as she let out a small breath of amusement. She then looked back to the table and began to grab a few grapes and a flaky pastry glazed with honey.

"My grandfather say you must have fish," she suddenly said, her accent heavy and grammar still off. "So he have bones to pick his teeth at the finish."

Thorin let out a small laugh and took a sip of his tea which steamed in the coldness of the morning.

He looked at the young girl who was now quietly eating her food and keeping her eyes trained on her plate. He could not deny that he was curious about her. He had met Régínn in the past but as Asha had said, Erebor was not quite as welcoming to them as Dhom. Especially in the later years when his grandfather had begun to cut off ties with his growing paranoia.

Thorin definitely did not know the language fluently. As a boy he had known a few phrases and perhaps a word or two extra but they had long since lost their meanings in his mind.

Thyra was shockingly young to be all the way over here and seemingly without any of her kin, or from what he knew of. He had gained only a small fraction of information from Sigurd in the conversation she had with the others from the previous night.

He could have asked about it earlier when Sigurd was still here but he had other topics that he was more curious to know. He had gained some from their earlier but brief conversation. But there were still many things he wished to know.

Taking in Thyra, he wondered if perhaps he could glean anything additional from this girl instead.

Instinct told him Thyra was much too perceptive to be deceived and she was not as congenial as her companion. So he would have to go about it without seeming too direct, yet not quite so prevaricate. It needed to seem like a natural flow of conversation.

"Your grandfather sounds like he was a man of great wisdom," he commented. "What did he do for a living?"

Thyra looked up at him, her eyes searching.

He waited patiently for her to answer as he let her scan his face. He kept it schooled. Hoping to look like he was merely offering conversation.

"Fisherman," she said finally.

Thorin nodded. "Ah, a rare occupation amongst our kind."

She shook her head.

"Yours, yes. Mine, no."

"Yes of course," Thorin corrected himself. "But if it is anything like a farmer or shepherd, it is an admirable occupation. From what I recall of your Kingdom, precious stones and ore where favored just like us. Most prefer to spend their days in the mines where they can gain their wealth but you cannot live off of gold. One must have food."

Thyra only shrugged at his comment.

"It was...adequate depending on circumstances and who judged. He could have done more but he claimed it was his calling."

Thorin nodded.

"We all have our calling in life. Some try to avoid them, some accept them. But if there is one thing I have learned in my nearly two centuries of life, it is that they are unavoidable. No matter how much we resist. Our fates are sealed by the will of the Valar."

His words caused a deep frown to set on her face. He waited for her to respond but after his statement, she seemed to have decided that she was done talking as she began to pick at her food.

It was now Thorin's turn to frown. He had been feeling successful in their flow of conversation up until now. But it was now apparent it would be more difficult than he thought. Deciding to take a different approach, he decided to not beat around the bush.

The more he calculated the girl, the more it became obvious that she was one of blunt honesty. Given some of the remakes he overheard from the night before he decided to approach the subject in the same manor.

"What are you doing here?"

"Gathering herbs," she replied.

Thorin shook his head knowing very well she knew what he had originally meant. But she was obviously trying to direct the conversation away from the subject. It was a divergence tactic he had seen played many times within the courtroom of his grandfather.

He suppressed a chuckle but there was still a small quirk of his lip that lifted his lips into a small smile.

Clever girl.

"I mean, what are you doing in these lands so far from home?" He clarified, giving her no chance of escape.

He was curious how she would answer and see just how extensive her tactics of conversation were.

Her eyes narrowed.

"I came from east, to seek west."

Thorin could not help but laugh at her answer.

"I believe that is what your ancestors said when they first arrived," he said catching her attention.

"We had good trading with them for centuries, although in the more recent century your kind have been scarce in these parts." He watched her carefully as she reached out to pour herself some tea. "Tell me, are you a voyager set out to bring back those traditions?"

Thyra slowly added milk and a small spoonful of honey to her tea.

Thorin watched her stir her tea slowly with the silver elven tea spoon that nearly looked like a normal sized spoon in her small hands. As she lightly tapped the metal against the rim of the cup and placed it to the side, her eyes moved up to him. Her freshly prepared tea remained on the table, cupped in her hands as she let her eyes rove all across the planes of his face.

She was contemplating, so Thorin waited.

But when she spoke again, it was not the subject that he was expecting.

"Why you do it?"

Thorin blinked at her question.

"Do what?"

Thyra chewed the inside of her cheek.

"Regain your home when you have one already built? Your people, they not happy?"

It was a question he had asked himself many times. Yes she was correct. He had rebuilt a home for his people. It was meager compared to Erebor and his people were just beginning to thrive as they adapted.

But that was something that always bothered him. They were happy but something always felt wrong, missing. Their essence was not complete. They were no longer the same as they once were. His people were not his people anymore, they had changed.

"I do it because it is my duty as the heir of the throne. I do it to give my people what they deserve. My people have built a life, but it is not their home." He looked at her steadily. "Erebor is there home. Erebor is where they can be who they were meant to be"

"I hear a dragon lives within your home," she replied. "You are willing to face it with such small numbers?"

"I would face it alone if it meant a chance at reclaiming my home and restoring my peoples dignity."

Thyra watched him again for a long while.

"Your people are lucky," she commented.

"I would hardly consider being forced from their home to travel with nothing but the clothes on their backs, lucky. I would hardly consider losing hundreds of loved ones in an attempt to retake an old home, lucky. I would not consider scrambling together, working for men, and building a hovel of a city when compared to Erebor, lucky."

Thyra slowly lifted the sleeve on her left arm to reveal the seared skin on the inside of her forearm.

Thorin felt as if the eye itself was staring into his soul, as if it could see him, and knew who he was. He could only look at it for a moment before the feeling became too overwhelming. When he averted his eyes from the scar, he was met with dark eyes that burned with hatred.

"My king sold his people into slavery," she said darkly. "They are prisoners within their own home."

Thorin was at a loss for words.

Thyra let her sleeve fall down and moved her hands to the teacup that sat before her. Her eyes stared down at milky liquid before lifting it and taking a sip. Gently, she set it down.

The light click of porcelain against the stone table was drowned out by a ruckus coming from the hallway. They each looked in the direction of the noise to find a large majority of the company emerge from the doorway.

Thorin watched as the corner of Thyra's eye twitched and her back straighten when Fíli emerged. She turned her head to face him, her long hair falling from her shoulder behind her back from the movement.

"As I said, your people are lucky to have you."

With that said, she rose from her seat and walked away, taking the exit she had come in from.

Thorin watched her retreating back as she disappeared into the garden. When he turned back around he caught Fíli watching her but with a very different expression than his own observant watch.

Fíli's normally kind face was pinched and he could see the strain in his cheek muscles that told him he was gritting his teeth. Thorin shook his head in bewilderment as he went back to finishing his meatless breakfast.

Never in his life did he think someone would ever manage to get under his nephews skin so easily and without any reason. Yes; perhaps Thyra was certainly a mystery but he found her to be no threat.

Thorin was not foolish enough to underestimate her. There was no denying she was dangerous. Dangerous but not a threat to them. At least not at the moment.

Kíli held his belly as he and his brother walked down the corridor to the room in which they were staying. At breakfast Thorin had announced that they would use this day to rest up and have one more full night's rest then depart at high noon tomorrow.

"As much as I love having a bed," began Kíli as he continued to rub his belly which was still growling even after breakfast, "I don't think I could last another full day if all we have to eat are a few leaves and some measly air fluffed pastries."

Fíli hummed his agreement as they came up to their room. From behind the door opposite theirs, they could hear rustling and the sound of drawers being opened and shut.

The two brothers exchanged questioning looks before Fíli finally shrugged and pushed open their door. They had agreed to have a small sparring match and had returned to retrieve their weapons.

However, when Fíli looked back he saw his brother still looking at the closed door across from their own.

"Kíli," Fíli called out.

His brother turned to look at him and Fíli beckoned with his head for him to enter into their room. Kíli took one step but his head was pulled back to the door.

"Do you think they would like to join us?" Kíli asked.

Fíli contemplated the idea.

He liked Sigurd. She was most likely the only girl who gave his brother equal amounts of attention to him as he himself gave to Kíli. But he did not like the idea of Kíli getting too attached to the girl.

It was not that he was jealous, nor did he disapprove of her. He just did not want to see his brother get hurt. Sigurd was a nice girl, and that was the problem. She was kind to everyone and he was worried that Kíli was getting the wrong idea and would interpret her general politeness as something more.

Then again, she seemed sincere in her kindness and he knew his brother had few people who treated him as such. It was just unfortunate that Sigurd she seemed to always come paired with another, less tolerable girl.

Thyra.

As soon as the second girl popped into his head, Fíli frowned and looked at his brother.

"No," he said. "Don't bother them, they probably have their own things to be doing. Sigurd said they were here on business. So let her be, she is busy."

Sure that his brother would follow him into the room. Fíli turned back around to walk over to his belongings but stopped when he heard a light knock on wood. He turned around to see his brother still outside of their room but no longer at the doorway.

Instead he was standing across the hall with his fist poised to knock again. Fíli moved quickly.

"Kíli donー"

It was too late. Fili was cut off when the door opened abruptly to reveal Sigurd dressed in a thick tunic and pants. Her blue eyes widened in surprise and making it apparent she had not been expecting company.

Kili was just about to extend an invitation to join them in a spar when he noticed the packed bag and travel cloak strewn across the visible bed farther into the room.

"Are you leaving?"

Sigurd's eyes moved past his shoulder to Fíli standing a small distance behind then back to Kíli. She let out an affirmative hum as she nodded.

"But I thought you were not leaving until tomorrow morning?" Kíli replied, sounding slightly miffed.

Sigurd gave him a sympathetic smile.

"We are leaving in a few hours."

"Oh," Kíli, physically sagged.

"Was there something you needed?"

"We wanted to see if you would join us in a spar...but it seems you are a bit short on time."

Fíli could hear the disappointment in his brothers voice and given by the guilty look in Sigurd's face, it was obvious she could hear it too.

Sigurd nodded then paused for a moment, obviously conflicted between continuing with her packing, and spending some time with them. Then her eyes lit up as an idea came to mind. She opened her door wider and stepped to the side, revealing a second bed that was covered in loose parchment, vials, and various plants.

"Would you like to come in?" she asked. "You could keep me company while I pack." Her eyes drifted back to Fíli. "Thyra is not here," she added in a knowing tone.

Kíli brightened at the invitation and immediately walked into the room, letting his eyes fall over everything within sight. It was similar to their own room. Sigurd had pulled the curtains back from the window and a soft breeze came through one of the open panels, letting in a refreshing flow. The soft sounds of the trickle of water from the pond in the courtyard located just below brought a soothing serenity.

The only difference between their room and this one, was the personal belongings that were scattered throughout the room. On the left bed, a bag was already neatly packed. Kíli noticed the large broad sword and shield that Thyra owned standing up against it.

On the other bed, a mess of papers and hand drawings were strewn about. Bundles of various herbs, plants, and dried berries where half wrapped in parchment or tied together with cords of string. Glass vials where mixed in amongst the mess. They clinked together as Sigurd began to collect them and place them in a leather pouch. They were filled with a myriad of liquids that varied in viscosity and color.

Kili walked closer and noticed the hand drawings were of various plants with the name inscribed and a small description of the plants appearance, location to be found, and used. He picked up one of the pieces of parchment and looked at Sigurd.

"Do you mind?" he asked.

Sigurd had been watching him and she shook her head.

"Go ahead."

With permission, Kíli examined the drawings, spending a little more time on a certain drawing every so often to read a description.

"Did you do this?" he asked, looking at her.

"Thyra drew most of them for me," she admitted. "She has quite a gift. You can see the difference between the ones that I did verses her's."

Kíli smiled as he came across a drawing that was obviously one that she had done. If he squinted just right he thought it could possibly be a patch of some kind of lichen plant.

"They are not too bad," he said encouragingly. He held up the drawing he had been looking at. "This is that mossy looking fungus that grows on rocks, right?"

Sigurd grimace and turned red.

"It was supposed to be an oak leaf."

Kíli looked back down at the drawing.

"Oh, I see it now," he lied.

Sigurd gave him an appreciative smile but then shrugged.

"You are sweet but I know I am horrible. Thankfully I have Thyra to help me out. In fact that is where she is right now. I had a few more resources to collect and draw and since we are leaving earlier than expected she is helping me finish up as much as I can before we leave."

"If you have more to do why are you leaving?" Kíli asked as he took a seat on the windowsill. "I thought your original plan was to leave tomorrow morning."

Sigurd placed the leather pouch of vials into her bag then moved on to wrapping the bundles of various plants in protective cloth.

"It was, but Thyra said we have to leave today."

"So because she says so, you have to leave early? What is she, your commanding officer?"

Sigurd paused in her work to look behind her where Fíli was standing in the doorway. His arms were crossed and his face full of disapproval.

"No, she is not. Nor am I, hers," Sigurd said uncharacteristically firm.

She seemed to hesitate to go on in her explanation but finally continued with the reasoning behind their abrupt departure.

"Thyra saw an owl in an elm tree this morning. She said it means that bad luck is ahead and the owl is a warning to hurry before it crosses our path."

Fíli let out a skeptical snort.

"So she sees a bird in a tree and says you have to leave early?" Fili snarked, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Sounds valid considering it is such an unnatural place for a bird to be."

"Fíli…" Kíli began but was cut off when Sigurd raised her hand.

"It's fine," she said calmly before looking back Fíli.

She took a deep breath and lifted her chin, as if collecting courage from the air.

"One thing that I have learned in my years with having a Régínn around is that they are extremely superstitious. I was like you when I first met her. Sceptical, dubious, disbelieving. But over the years, in the few times that I have ignored her warnings, it has always ended badly. Thyra gave me a choice and I decided it would be best to listen." She nodded her chin at him. "If you were smart, your company would leave tonight as well if you are headed in the same direction as we are."

Fíli did his best to keep his eyes from rolling.

Who in their right mind takes advice from birds.

Despite his thoughts, he still nodded.

"I appreciate the warning but I am sure Thorin already knows what is best for our company. I trust my uncle more than some...bird."

Sigurd looked back to Kíli who only shook his head. They each knew what undertoned the meaning of his sentence. It was not the owl he was referring to in being untrustworthy. Sigurd shrugged it off then went back to her work.

"Are you a healer?" Kíli asked as in an attempt to smooth over his brothers uncharacteristically abrasive behavior. "You mentioned helping to care for Thyra when you first found her."

"More like an aspiring healer," she corrected. "I have the basics but I am no master in the trade, in fact it is partially why I am here. Elrond has a gift for healing and has been teaching me over the years when we visit Rivendell.

"What inspired you to pursue such a career?"

Sigurd paused in her work, her hand poised just above a bundle of dried thistle. For a moment she stared blankly but just before Kíli could ask if she was okay, she looked up at him. A forced smile came to her face.

"I wanted to help those who needed it."

"I started small with the basics, such as simple stitches, herbs to fight infection, and other everyday knowledge a healer would know. But one day, Asha brought me with her to come here. Lord Elrond offered to extend my knowledge of healing by teaching me some of his own healing skills."

For an hour continued to speak, mostly about various plants and healing techniques Sigurd had learned.

Kíli was now standing by the bed helping her wrap up her collection and Fíli found himself wandering over to the window to watch Dwalin, Nori, and Bifur practicing in the courtyard as he listened to their chatter.

Their conversation moved to other topics as Kíli described their adventures so far on their journey. Their departure from home, the dinner at Bilbo's home, their meeting with Radagast, and how they ended up in Rivendell.

The more they talked, the more Fíli noticed the signs of anxiety within Sigurd had slowly receded and became less frequent. Sigurd was now laughing merrily as Kíli described what they had done to Bilbo's home. Going into full detail of how they had all arrived unannounced and raided the poor hobbits cellar.

"You didn't!" Sigurd exclaimed in shock. "When I was ten, I once stole a single grape off of a halflings plate and he nearly bit my finger off."

Fíli and Kíli burst into chuckles and then started describing how Bilbo had thrown a fit when Nori had used his doily as a dishcloth.

As they were just finishing their story of Bilbo almost turning around because he had not brought a handkerchief, the latch to the door lifted and swung open.

Thyra first stared at Kíli who was lounging on Sigurds bed. His back was braced against the wall with his feet hanging over the edge. Then her eyes moved to Sigurd sitting neatly at the edge of her bed with her packed bag in her lap. Finally, her attention moved to Fíli who was still positioned at the window.

"What are they doing here", Thyra asked in Régan as her eyes moved between the two princes'.

Sigurd rolled her eyes.

"They came to visit," she replied in Westron as she pointed to the empty bed across the room. "Join us."

Thyra shot another glance at each of the brothers. She then entered and held out a small stack of papers to Sigurd.

"Did you finish packing?" Thyra asked, continuing in her own tongue and ignoring Sigurd's invitation.

As she tucked away the papers given to her, Sigurd nodded. Thyra gave her own nod then walked over to her bed. Without delay, she fastened the baldric holding her sword around her shoulder, added her pack, then slung her shield over the first two.

"We leave," she said, then walked towards the door. She paused at the threshold and looked back to Fíli. "Bad luck if you leave tomorrow."

She did not wait for a response. She only turned her attention to Sigurd, nodded for her to follow, then departed.

Sigurd was less abrupt in her departure. She thanked Kíli for the help then gave a farewell to both of them individually before following after in Thyra's wake.

"Do you think we should talk to Thorin about leaving early as well?" Kili asked.

Fíli could not help but feel a slight tingle on the back of his neck as he felt the hairs raise. Something felt off but despite Kíli's suggestion, he brushed aside Thyra's warning. There was no point in pestering their uncle about such superstitious matters. What really could possibly happen as they crossed through the Misty Mountains.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .