A Sense of History: Thálatta! Thálatta!
While he never climbs the stairs of this Elf-tower, in Lothlórien Frodo Baggins descends a flight of steps to look into Galadriel’s Mirror, wherein he first sees the sea. This post examines the view.
Prompt: fragrant, bustle, refused, hastened
Calvary charges are vastly overrated.
The bustle of the training field could not be compared in poetic terms to a beehive or whatever metaphor most pleased the departed Noldor. The fragrant scent of sweating men refused to be softened either by pretty words or breezes. The movements were repetitive and small, the tedious and unglamourous work of real soldiers, not the grand flashy movements of warriors. The recruits hastened to line up in wobbly orders, their sticks held aloft as they practiced the single step forward and thrust. An embryonic pikeline was slowly forming, one that would defeat what all the cavalry had failed to.