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The stars were sunken in the depths of dark heaven of Arda like gems of surpassing fairness, besprangling the grey night. Soft breeze sighed as it passed under tall evergreens and rustled long grass laden with crystal dews. Snow-crowned mountains wreathed in pale mist could be seen afar towering high.
The horses were off nipping at some grass that could be found growing in this barren land. Some of the people were curled up in sleep already, and others were murmuring to each other about their future plans. The night deepened.
Ferethor had taken the chance to seat himself as a self-appointed sentry. Ravenous beasts and outlaw bands still roamed the wild regions beyond Minas Tirith and the land was unsafe. Leaning on a golden-barked tree, he stared at the tall and proud trees and silvery moonbeam glistening on their young leaves. He was also fully aware of soft footfalls.
"Crystal." Ferethor said without turning, "the night is passing. Get some rest while darkness endures for tommorrow's need would be sterner still." Crystal retorted defiantly, obviously incensed by his patronizing tone, "Why are you awake then, Ferethor?" He decided to not to answer her dry inquiry and turned back to scanning the dark and dreary wood. He had little mind to argue with the lass.
Recalling something, Ferethor drew a keen dagger from his belt and reeled to lock his grey gaze with Crystal's smouldering eyes. "I thought I would keep this dagger that you threw at me, since it is unwise to cast away any weapon. Especially such a fair weapon of exequisite workmanship." Then Ferethor casually tossed the slim blade at Crystal's direction, thinking 'And here I sign my death warrant.'
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