Frodo looked up at just the mention of rain, eying the sky warily. Even the clouds and air had a different smell and look to them. He could have had a better idea at which way the weather may take a turn had this been in the Shire. Even the road to Rivendell had some familiarity; no matter how strange the way was, much less how unfriendly the the Wild was, the sky and stars and moon remained the one familiar set of faces. Looking up above them now, he could not recognize any. They seemed close in some ways, but something then lay off, as if some had winked out or some were too far apart.

"Do you think it will rain?" asked the hobbit. A light rain never hurt anyone, of course, but rain - the heavier sort- was best enjoyed in the comfort of one's own home, with a good blanket and a better fire going in the hearth, and one's favorite book.

He looked up at the woman who had come near. She was dark haired and dark-eyed, and in this regard, she reminded him momentarily of the Breelanders. That was where the similarity ended. There was a more kindly look to her than the Big Folk he had met in Bree, less of a suspicious and closed off air that had tinged most of them. Frodo took a step forward. So here must be another who was taken. "I am afraid so. My name is Frodo; at your service and your family's," and here, Frodo bowed a little to her.