[Gwathagor]

As the sun burnt low in the west and was finally extinguished in the sea, the habitual activities of a tired village occupied the inhabitants of Stock. Doors were shut, fires were put out, shutters were closed. The forest dwellers sensed it too, the slowing down of the day, the gentle weariness that follows a long summer day. Nobody saw the elf.

He stood atop the hill that overlooked Stock in the north. Tall, dark, and lonely he stood, surveying the land before him, taking in the village through every sense and faculty.

So this is where we are, he thought.