Disclaimer: Tolkien painted with wonderful words – Kortirion scrawls with chalk on the pavements
The sky was greenish-blue behind purpled clouds, not star-bright darkness as night should be. They would walk through this shortest night, back towards their fair, golden woods. Eager to return, even if now too late to join in urging the sun to take the longer track that gave back belovéd night.
Ahead they saw faint light, too early for dawn. Turning aside they watched from the shadows, shadows themselves in elven grey. A travel-stained man sat over a poor fire, softly singing - but he was not their concern. They walked on, leaving the lone traveller to his own solstice ritual.