As dusk approaches, the company finally come in sight of ancient Gwingris. Rather than continue, they decided to make camp beneath the trees on the road-side, and as gloaming turns into night, the old city is painted in silver by the stars.
As soon as Nelnardis stirred, she willed herself to her feet and reached for her pack. It was just about dawn, but she searched for a piece of parchment and something to write with. Thendryt was already sitting by the fire when she walked into the main room of the beorning’s house.
The search group looks out from a tower in Gwingris for a better view. Seeing no signs of doves, they leave some bird seeds in hopes of attracting one.
The sun was sinking below the horizon, bathing the ruins in a soft red glow. Its rays gave some final warmth before the darkness of the night took over. Gwingris was more occupied today than usual with a group of travelers who had just come from Imladris. They sat beside the fire now, sharing its warmth and a kettle of herbal tea. Some of them had stepped aside to stand watch or speak with the inhabitants of Gwingris. At this time, Eliriael broke away from the group quietly and inquired into borrowing writing instruments and the use of a messenger bird.