He rushed to the stairs.
A statue, they had said.
No, statues were the smallest concern of Felegoth.
Faörie and Loegenel stand atop a hill, overlooking Erys Lasgalen. They speak of the state of the realm, then later of Ráolor and his burdened past.
Faörie helps Loegenel tend to the rose bushes by the gates of Felegoth.
Arriving at the gates, the company was stopped by the guards.
Not all of them received friendly glances, for the Woodland Folk was wary and mistrustful, even towards other elves.
Crossing the bridge, they approached the gates beyond which they would finally find some rest, some refreshments and some safety.
Leaving the darkness behind, the company followed the path through the forest twilight, until they stood in front of the great archway that lead to the halls of the Woodland Folk.
Those who see the change understand its meaning.
A faint glow from afar pierced the darkness of the forest, and the company halted, gazing at the first real source of light since days.
Having entered the Woodland Realm, after days of traveling without any sunlight, without feeling a fresh breeze upon the skin, many a wanderer can become an easy prey to madness, despair and tiredness.
After eight days, the company finally reached the Mountains of Mirkwood.
Crossing the hills, Loegenel decided to have a short respite upon the camp of Tham Taerdol.