Caveman wrote:

[So, what side of the church did he see in the divination?].

Flames were too intense & Narrhil was too distant to tell.
But he surely did not recognize any of the area he was in during that "vision".

Narrhil blows another Detect magic but gets no new hits on anything,
His deep rest regains spells and dHD of hp.
His deep thought recalls his journeys the east trail is a mountain pass - the north is a snow field to woods - the south is a snow drift to woods. 

Narrhill climbs once again from the confines of his cellar cocoon and ventures out into the newly lighted area outside the church's doors.  On the ground, his old prints mingle with those of the dogs and his ex companions. He pauses here and listens, only dead silence, He is finally alone.
Westward he creeps , the new snow and ice crunching under his feet as he pushes slowly through it . His circles of light illuminate a cleared path through a row of trees, heavy branches bowing overhead. 
At the edge of his light is the small piece of wood protruding from the waist high snow. The round knob of a hitching post, an old frayed rope tied around it disappears behind it into the snow.

[Before or after he checks the rope?]

[Before, but he just looking. 10 ft. No sign of life, other footprints?]

Narrhil looks to the rope, he tries to pull it from the ground. If it is stuck. He will try clearing a space around it with his pick.

"Let there be light," chant Narrhil as he cast his spell, directed it further westwards.

The rope is worn, well used. Stiff in the cold, may have had something applied to it in the past, oil? wax?
Made from jute, cotton, and sisal fibers most likely. 
It is taut at a 45 degree angle down into the snow.

[What is Narrhil digging with?]