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The rider looks down onto the shimmering city, its white towers and halls clinging to the steep sides of the gorge like barnacles. From the top of the falls he can hear the muted roar of water far below. Here, the River Nenning widens, feeding the haven: the beating heart of the city. The dark waters flow sluggishly past the white ships that line both quaysides; past the two bridges that stretch across the gorge, connecting the upper and lower parts of the city; and past the three domed watchtowers sitting stout and round at the harbour mouth. And then out towards the Great Sea to the west, mirroring the lights of the city and the stars.

The stars! A swollen river of light - the Rossiaur - flows across the blue-black sky, burning with white fire over the silvered land. While the rest of Middle-earth sleeps through the long Years of the Trees, enchanted Beleriand thrives under a sunless twilight.

The rider looks back at the gatehouse and waves back at the gatekeepers. His horse takes him along the bottom of the high walls that line the top of the gorge. He cranes his neck, sees Dwarf stonemasons hanging like tiny spiders from ropes and scaffolding. They have made good headway: the walls will be finished soon.

The sound of flutes and distant singing floats up from the streets far below. The horse snorts and shakes her mane and the rider pats her neck and clicks her onwards down the path towards the high bridge. She is glad to be home; the rider knows it.

The Grey Pearl (Of Caladuin: Volume Two)Where stories live. Discover now