After a couple of time The Forngarmo has reached the way leading back to where the army was waiting. She walked back towards the camp where her friend, Ornessar met her once again as if he remained here since the moment she left for the task. She bowed her head but remained silent. The elf then looked at her once more. "What did you find?" - He asked her as they went deeper into the camp. The Forngarmo then looked at him and stopped on her way. "The passage is safe until the ruins of Haerondir.

Minas Tirith, Nórui 3009 T.A. Steward's Reckoning

Theogorn scratched on his beardless face. He looked around to the white glimmering stones and walls of the city. The streets were bustling with activity: wagons were towed to and fro, builders were renovating an old inn on great wooden platforms and cranes, moving stones up and down. There was a market with many merchants calling and offering their wares and gondorian men and women in clothes of blue and yellow running or strolling all around the place.

Chains are made to hold fast and secure but even the strongest break with neglect and time. Salt and air eat through the hardest iron just as age devours man of strength and sense. It was the nature of things and something keen in the mind of the man who stood on the dock, ignoring the bustle of soldiers and sailors around him. Frost had not touched Nathion's dark hair yet but there were lines round his eyes and mouth when he smiled, earned from the southern sun.