32 | Of Songs, Maps & Symbols
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Arwen Undómiel | The Evenstar
Location: Minas Tirith, Gondor, Middle Earth, Arda
Time: April 2981 T.A
Nothing sets the bar low than simply wading, a foot deep, in murky water inside a tunnel.
Not that she would openly complain, of course.
Arwen experienced her fair share of grime and mud in the last four months, and the sewage-like passageway was far from the dirt, soot, and blood of a battlefield and a fortress.
At least at that point, she didn't have to tell which one was the other, for the foul stench hit her nose as soon as they entered the underpasses of the mountain and into the sections of the city.
It was almost five days since they left Edoras, with her heart left behind as it fell and broke for her family and friends. The feeling was worse than when she and Boromir parted with Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli. As for now, she realised wherever she was going she could not turn back and run to those who would miss her. The bittersweet farewell between her brothers, sensing the frustrated anger in Elladan's face whilst smiling sadly upon the sorrows of Elrohir.
Even when they were apart: Arwen believed deeply that they would be thinking of her. Just as they all did for their mother and father, and their uncles and those they loved also.
And Aragorn...
She could not dare think of it.
The guilt was eating it with every dragging step they took.
If they arrived (or managed to) at the top of the city: all that would be left of her was a hollow shell before she could even take that step into the unknown.
But then she remembered once more, the words which Mithrandir spoke to her back all those months ago. All she could do was shut her eyes again, suppressing the aching feeling which crept upon her chest.
Perhaps there was another saying she needed to remind herself of a certain Ithron.
To follow her nose instead of wallowing.
She really hoped these were not sewage tunnels, or else she would either be scowling back at Boromir for putting up with such conditions or rather forcing her way through a dozen orcs. At least then orc blood would be better than unknown liquids. What was really on the top of her mind was actually how a certain Gondorian Captain knew of these tunnels.
"You said this was the secret way into the city?"
Arwen – despite it being too dark for such conditions – raised an eyebrow as the walls surrounding them were almost as close to her body by almost a foot long. The size did help to push through by holding onto the walls, but the more she felt it damp, the more she questioned how it even came to be flooded despite being at the bottom of the mountain. It only rained for a few days since they arrived and perhaps it continued to do so.
She heard Boromir reply with a slightly embarrassed tone.
"It was bigger than I imagined."
There was a snort that came from Tazhin's thoughts and she couldn't help but bit back a smile.
At the same time, Pippin had then commented that he didn't find it as small, causing Boromir to let out a sigh whilst Arwen grinned even more. Thankfully it was dim enough for the Gondorian Captain to not see the amusement.
Though partial of her enjoyment was seeing Boromir carrying their hobbit friend on his back. Despite their (mainly Tazhin's) protests for his shoulder, he won the argument when they first arrived at the deepest parts of the tunnels.
Hence why he was now piggybacking said hobbit.
Slight curiosity got to her, so she asked him: "How old did you come here by any chance?"
As she heard the sloshing and splashing of water, Boromir's voice echoed in front of both her and Tazhin: "Faramir and I used to explore the city when we were children. Whenever our mother was too tired or our father scolded us, we would escape and take these hidden passages." His voice was filled with nostalgia, something which seemed to rare from the Gondorian captain. "When we got older, we realised that these were supposed to be passageways in case the city walls were breached. We didn't believe of course, not with the great wall and then the city walls with the gates."
Her smile softened.
Hearing Boromir speaking of his childhood, it was something they had yet time nor even the conversation to cross the topic. But when it did arise, Arwen's heart warmed at the thought of it. She imagined a young boy, shorter than now with younger eyes and innocence and a sense of adventure. A freedom that everyone would once have. She could see him with his brother, running through the street of Minas Tirith and through here.
"Then the enemy closed in on us. Osgiliath fell and we were forced to flee behind the walls of the white city. And now...it's gone."
When the dismay crept up his tone, Arwen could not help but sense her heart cracking.
Beneath the exterior of a hardened and grown man: there was still the proud and honourable boy she could sense in his voice. A man who had lost his childhood too early because of a war they never deserved to live through and be in. How had life become like this? For them to all become a life of short childhoods and force them to become brave for the sake of others and their own security?
Just like Tazhin, leaving her people to choose to have a better life.
Even Pippin, who was barely grown, was here because he chose to be here.
In the midst of their individual lives, despite losing those they loved: it was their youth that they had lost the most of.
All Arwen could do was let the revelation seep through.
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There were drawings in Rivendell of the White City of Gondor.
Erestor used to show her sometimes the sketches he used to make, drawings of when he used to be her father's diplomat. Back when he would venture across the known parts of Middle Earth, disputing trades and investigating certain issues that would either be to do with the elven kingdoms or even personal matters such as expeditions her mother would time to time go for her interests. He would often note that he and her mother would work together to comprise books, cataloguing the history and knowledge of every bit they could.
Minas Tirith on paper could not compare with the grandeur of the real thing. Though almost accurate with the architecture and designs of the arches, towers, and paved roads: it was different than looking at ink lines on a page.
The tunnel which they exited led them halfway between the overall levels of the city, entering into some sort of back alleyway which was rather empty. Which was a good thing considering the news Boromir, Aragorn and Legolas spoke of: the majority of the city was evacuated as soon as the armies closed in.
But there was another thing which worried them most.
And that was the fact that it was too empty.
Mordor's armies should have already taken the city, preparing to lay claim before raging towards Rohan to fight at the front. Instead, all they could hear were the sounds of their feet hitting the cobble or the winds tunnelling through the streets. There were no lights on, and Arwen heard nor sensed with her magic any presence nearby. It was either no one was here...or they were somewhere else in the city.