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The mountain air was brisk and cold; clouds moved listlessly through the mountain passes disguising treacherous drops. There was no life to be seen for miles around on the ragged slops of this high place in the world. Any of the trails that a traveler used were paths that snow and time had hewn into the rock.
To any normal person this would be the place to keep awares for sudden drops that would lead to sudden and gruesome stops but not for one young, adventurous Dwarf. Kíli whistled as he trotted through the craggy road. To a normal traveler this uneven road was nuisance but to the bowman it was a challenge he took in stride; even when a wrong step had him stumbling like fool, he righted himself and continued on his merry way.
A sound came to his ears then and the Dwarf slowed his gait. Just ahead there had been some shuffling, the little noises of tiny pebbles being crunched beneath a boots. Kíli quickened his pace and turned the bend where the origin of the sounds was located.
There stood a band of travelers with destination of their own, although their paths now intersected; Kíli was surprised to see so many on such a lonely road in such a remote and faraway place.
"Well met." He greeted them with a warm smile that seemed to vanquish the gray.