He sat astride his horse, looking down upon Minas Tirith from Mindolluin’s heights, and choked as tears closed his throat. He could see Elros’ influence in the architecture and was nonplussed. That his brother’s presence could be felt so markedly was staggering. He slipped from his mount, knelt on the grassy slope, bending over holding his sides, and wept, inconsolably.

When the wound in his heart closed to a dull gash, he stood. His eyes narrowed; his breath slowed. He examined the immense edifice before him, and began to smile. Marble. Everywhere. Various shades. He remembered how they had argued over Cirdan’s stronghold at the Havens. He thought pearls placed in every space in the palace were quite enough, but Elros had wanted marble everywhere. His smile broadened.

He looked further. Post and lintel construction dominated the individual buildings. His brother’s love for columns was apparent, as they seemed to run rampant through the various structures he could see from this distance. Columns, and this time he laughed uproariously, obelisks. He could see the tall spires of marble obelisks slicing the sky.

Tears once again closed his throat. He had not thought to encounter his brother in Minas Tirith’s architecture.

****

A/N – This occurs in Third Age 2043. I’m pretty sure the Muse said it was early morning of the day of Eärnur’s coronation.