Two Dunedain Rangers of the North - Halbarad and Adrahil - are riding out from Rivendell into the chill autumn, their faces grave.
The Nine Riders had been driven away... but they could still be lurking. And for Sauron to have sent them north means the stakes of their deadly slow combat are higher now than ever before in their lives.
"Did Aragorn tell you his plans?" Halbarad murmurs.
Adrahil shakes his head.
"He said he might be heading south to Gondor this winter. Using his real name."
Adrahil's eyes go wide. That meant - both of them knew - Aragorn would be setting himself up to take his long-awaited scepter, if they would give it to him.
"This winter? But why -" Adrahil grips his reins tightly. "Is Sauron going to make another huge move now? I heard Aragorn and the hobbits he brought had found something, but they didn't say what..."
Halbarad shakes his head. "I don't know. Aragorn says they're going to take counsel, but - they need to know more first."