[Mithadan]

Mithadan paced back and forth within the confines of his quarters. He had spent the morning on the balcony looking out on the center of the city, trying to glimpse such detail of its buildings and layout as he could at such a distance. He had drawn a rough map to the extent that his vision of the streets and thoroughfares were not blocked by the many towers and buildings. The city seemed to be laid out in quadrants with four main roads meeting at a central square from which rose the Tower of the King.

He ground his teeth in annoyance. Here he was in the greatest city which elves had ever constructed in Middle Earth and he could do no more than strain his eyes to catch details of its splendour. It was clear that he would stand out like a sore thumb if he attempted to walk the streets. There was only one Man authorized by the King to be in the city and he could not pass himself off as an Elf unless he wore a deep hood and cloak, and that would also be unusual. So he cooled his heels in a luxurious room which, for all purposes, might as well be a prison cell, while Gondolin at the height of its power and beauty was a matter of steps away. He attempted to console himself by planning to exit the house under the cover of darkness but this provided him with little solace. The city at night could not compare to the city in full light. In anticipation of the next evening's exertions, he laid himself down for a nap.