First Sight

I remember the first time I saw Minas Tirith as though it were yesterday. It seemed fantastical to me as I sat before Gandalf on Shadowfax after that long and wearying ride from the other side of Rohan. I even forgot for a time the memory of that accursed Palantir that I should never have touched.

I'd thought Edoras and the Hornburg (what little I'd seen of it) impressive but neither had the sheer grandeur of this immense city of white stone. And as we drew closer my initial guess at it's size proved to be woefully inadequate. Looking up towards the top of the wall and the great gateway I grew dizzy and even more awe-filled.

By the time we reached the Citadel I was beyond awe and I think it was only the sight of the Tree, barren and dead, the fountain's water dripping off its branches like mournful tears that brought me out of my wonder. The sheer oddness of it was what did it I think.

But that was so many years ago now. I'm definitely far from that young tween who wound up a knight of Gondor and a Tower Guard almost by accident. I couldn't get into my armour now if my life depended on it. My dear Diamond had sworn that she would fatten me up into a "proper hobbit" and I must say she'd done a right proper job of it.

We should be approaching the Rammas Echor soon and I wonder what changes I'll find when I pass through the gate again.