We Built This City by Grundy

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We Built This City

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Turukano looked around the valley and smiled. Right now, it was still pristine and untouched – and quiet.

He liked the solitude well enough, though not as well as he once had. Too much quiet led to memories he had no desire to revisit, as if his mind couldn’t help but return to the silence that had been cut only by screams…

His hand-picked work crew had completed the survey, and they were now beginning the task of marking where the approach to the great hill – the solid rock on which he would build his city.

Ulmo had led him to a valley where his power was strong. They would be safe here. Itarillë would come of age in the closest thing to the security they had once known in Tirion as he could contrive in Beleriand.

He could see beyond the current view to what the city would become. It would take years to build – years, even before he could contemplate moving most of his people from Nevrast – but when it was finished, it would be a home to be proud of.

“My prince?”

Echthelion’s gentle question broke into his reverie.

“We are ready for the council.”

Turukano nodded.

The men of his council would eventually be lords all, regardless of whether they had been noble or common in Tirion, or even if they had once been prisoners of the Enemy. He did hope Rog might eventually feel secure enough here to either allow himself to recall the name he had been given in his youth or take a new one…

The eight of them were his most loyal retainers, leaders that he knew others would follow. He could also trust them to supervise construction in his absence, for he could not spend all his time here. He would not only need to continue governing Nevrast, he would need to prepare for the formidable task of moving all his people and their goods here in secret. He was determined that his city and its location would remain hidden to the outside world, protected by obscurity as much as by the Lord of the Waters.

He joined his soon to be lords. They might one day sit in a grand chamber, but for the time being, they had seated themselves on the grass, with a blanket spread between them for a table as if it was more than just a picnic. (It was also a picnic of sorts. Salkanto felt strongly that regular meals were important, and was no doubt responsible for the food set out in the middle.)

“Well, Turvo?”

He smiled, unsurprised that Pendelotë was the first to speak – and uninclined to reprove him for familiarity. These men were not only his trusted followers, they were his friends – and in the case of Pendelotë and Aiqualossë, his kin.

“I have heard nothing unfavorable from the surveyors,” he said. “So all is clear. We will proceed.”

There was a hearty a cheer as could come from so few.

“We shall draw up the plans for the city over the next few weeks. I will remain as long as I can, until the first cold if possible, but I must leave before the snows set in – I cannot risk being trapped in the mountains by weather or leaving tracks for others to discover.”

“How soon can we bring more workers?” Rog asked. “We can make a start with those we have here, but building will go slowly with so few.”

“Any more and you won’t be able to feed them,” Galdor snorted. “Between what we brought and what we can gather here in the valley, we’ll eat well enough through the winter. But unless the next lot to arrive bring farmers and hunters or trappers, sending more workers will be more hindrance than help.”

Turukano nodded, making a note. He would not have Galdor’s good sense to guide him when he drew up the list for the next expedition, so he had best heed him now.

“I think it is safe to say the next group I bring must be more than just builders,” Turukano replied. “If we mean to build a city that can sustain itself, we will need all crafts and skills.”

“Aye, but painters and decorators won’t be wanted as soon as masons, miners, and smiths,” Egalmoth mused. “More who know the business of building those straight, even roads of yours wouldn’t go amiss, either. There’s more than just the access roads to think of.”

“And runners,” Tuilindo said thoughtfully. “You don’t want whoever is coordinating the different crews wasting their time traipsing from one end of the valley to the others. We’ll want messengers. Though I imagine that would allow you to send on the families of those who are here already. All but the youngest children could make themselves useful.”

Turukano had no intent to send any children to the valley until the fortifications were complete, but if all went well, the approaches should be walled and guarded by the end of this season.

“Rog?” Turukano prompted. “You’re to have charge of the miners and smiths, what say you?”

“Aye,” Rog said thoughtfully. “It’s a certainty we need more of those. If you’d been plainer back in Nevrast, I’d have brought a few mine supervisors or crew foremen with me. The miners I chose are more in the prospecting line – they’re good at finding where to dig, not necessarily the ones I’d tap to set up a new mine or run it. Should I give you a list?”

“If you would be so kind,” Turukano nodded. “I daresay I’ll do well enough at selecting smiths, but miners…”

There were chuckles, particularly from those who had not come from Aman. He was honest enough to admit that back home he’d only known in the most abstract way where the materials he worked with had come from, and little of the finer details of how they came to be in his workshop. He was learning better in Beleriand, but he was not fool enough to think he’d achieved mastery in the few short years in Mithrim and Nevrast, much less that he could match Rog’s knowledge.

“I’ll start working on lists in the evenings – names, skills, and what stage of the project they’ll be best brought in for.”

“Are we going to keep bringing small groups in?” Echthelion wanted to know. “If your aim is secrecy, the more times we come and go, the greater the risk.”

“There’s not much choice, is there?” Aiqualossë said ruefully. “We can’t bring everyone right away, with no good place to put them, much less feed them. But we won’t make progress very swiftly with only a few shy of a hundred working on a city meant for tens of thousands.”

“Yes, but you can’t bring just builders, miners, or quarrymen,” Tuilindo pointed out. “If you do, they have to stop to cook, do the washing, and so on.”

“They also won’t cook as well as those whose craft it is,” Salkanto added. “A worker who is eating well and living comfortably will accomplish more than one who is eating the best that can be knocked together and living tolerably. That’s only common sense.”

“Before the noble builder says anything more,” Salkanto added, seeing Pendelotë preparing to argue,  “I beg to remind him that he has been very pleased with my cook’s work, for all he mocked me bringing both her and my valet on this expedition!”

“Peace!” Turukano commanded, before a squabble could break out between the two.

His cousins have been dubious about the wisdom of placing such trust in an instrument maker, no matter how skilled. But Turukano thought they focused too much on rank as they had known it in Tirion. He has found the craftsman’s mind works in interesting ways, and while it generally runs to comfort and happy times, he can at need be very canny when it comes to strategy and tactics. It’s why he had given Salkanto a position of responsibility in Nevrast. The people who look to him there would cross the Ice a second time if he told them he’d organized it all.

“Salkanto makes a good point. We must have more than just builders, miners, and farmers. Cooks, washers, and tailors as well – they will all be necessary, if not necessarily in large numbers. Though I will not have you picking all of them, Salkanto. I daresay Egalmoth will have thoughts as well.”

Salkanto nodded graciously, satisfied that he’d carried his point.

It was a good one. Turukano could hardly make a city as fine as Tirion if the people building it were cranky and uncomfortable. It was enough that those who had accompanied him this trip had been willing to leave their friends and family behind for a trip into unknown country, with him able to tell them only that the others would join them in due course.

It was on him to see that they were as comfortable as they could be. This was not like Mithrim. This was being planned properly, and would be built even better. The men and women constructing his city would need to be able to sing the stones into shape, to build a city not just for protection, but for happiness, comfort, and beauty.

Turukano sighed internally, the vision of a shining white city dancing before his eyes. Soon enough all this talk and planning would give way to action, to turning vision to reality. It wouldn’t be long before song would echo from every corner of the valley.