"Master Burgins, I must ask," Celeborn tuned to Daugo, "Are you intoxicated, once again?"
The Noldorin column passed many hamlets and vilages on their way to the Rammas Echor. The walls were huge and the gates open as caravans and travelers moved to and fro from the Pellenor to the grassy plains of Anorien with its many little settlements and dwellings.
They passed underneath the causeway and entered the Pellenor fields. There were many townships within the field and no signs of the battles of the War of the Ring could be seen. The fields had regrown, the walls had been rebuilt and the townships repopulated. Many people came to see the elves. Their gallant armor, their gold plated Noldorin designs of the Second Age, and especially, the most compelling reason to look at elves beside their beauty, their pointy ears.
Daugo saw children, women, men; tall, stocky, short, wide; farmers, soldiers, riders, lumberers, millers, carpenters, dockhands, sailors, field hands, squires, artists, sculptors, cultivators, librarians, weavers, intellectuals, philosophers, and all manner of other peoples with identities, occupations, and hobbies pass him on the way to the Great Gate of Minas Tirith. It was the largest entrance Daugo had ever seen. A damn Giant could walk through it. Hundreds of people, mostly men but also dwarves and surprisingly, what seemed to be other elves passed underneath it. There were great roads leading outwards. The North-South road, they had taken heading North; the east road which was comparable in size to the North-South and led towards the greatest causeway-fort in the Rammas Echor, which was crowded with peoples; and the south road that led to a small port settlement about one league from the city. They entered the capital.
Bustling markets, grand monuments of men, aqueducts, amphitheaters, humungous stables and grand monasteries crowded the first level of the city. The sheer concentration of people made the atmosphere thick and impenetrable. Shouts, cries, calls, sales, mewling, mulling, tolling, screaming, and all sorts of other sounds drowned out anything that Celeborn tried to say to Daugo amidst the rushing hectic crowds. The environment was lively and choking at the same time.
The elves dismounted and led their horses to one grand corral which serviced around five thousand steeds. It was insane. The amount of manure, the stink, the smell, everything about it was overwhelming as it choked Daugo's senses. A sizeable portion of the elves remained behind at the paddock area with the horses whilst Celeborn and fifty of them continued on with Daugo in tow. Whilst the elves towered above the crowds, their heads generally poking above the roving sea of bodies, Daugo was drowned beneath, being dragged along and getting quite a fine view of everyone's posteriors. He saw scores of people in poverty. Boys playing in the streets, yet, they were playing with gemstones as if they were pebbles, tossing cyan coloured rocks about and gaming fancifully with one another. Even the poorest were rich here.
Three hours of wading through the crowds and Daugo's feet hurt; his nose was filled with the intoxicating smells of street food, body odor, and other peculiar queer aromas; his bones ached and they had finally reached the second level and dispersed from the thousands of people below in the first. Even the elves seemed harried and were hastily moving along to avoid such unpleasant areas. For once Daugo regretted not enjoying Rivendell. It was so much more peaceful, mellow and gentle than this. But Minas Tirith had its own flare. The city was like a beating drum and he had seen many musicians on his way up the great staircases. Celeborn was up at the head of the detachment, leading the way towards the next level.
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Erland led Iver through the market and towards the King's Hall, on the way Iver spotted someone- Thoruk! Who looked like a fully-decked out Dwarven soldier with full plate armor, a shiny new helmet on and two new axes on his back. The Dwarf radiated strength.
Sigeric's eyes caught the sight of Iver down in the market, with his father, walking up the narrow streets towards the King's Halls.
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