The next Day Ilmarien put on a dress of the deepest darkest blue velvet. She and her hosts were to dine with Arafinwë and his wife, but first, there was time for Calatindil to give her a brief tour of the city. He began by showing her the Square of the King, the Mindon Eldaliéva and the tree Aldarilion, all of which she admired greatly, especially the Mindon. Indeed, she insisted on going inside, where the three who tended the lamp, overcome with pride at this unexpected visit from the daughter of their sovereign, were delighted to show her around.
"Now," Calatindil said as they came out, "we are presented with a Dilemma. We could take the Road of Pomps to the south. Or you might prefer to see the Alley of Roses to the north."
"They both sound lovely!"
"Ah, wait a moment, lady; you have not yet plumbed the depths of our difficulty. The Square of the Folkwell is very pretty."
"And where is that?"
"Just west of the palace."
"Ah!"
"And then there is the Great Market to the east," Calatindil concluded.
"Well, I'm sure I would love all those places - though I have seen the Road of Pomps before! And we can always come back to the others you mentioned. I think I would like to see the Great Market..."
She loved the Great Market. Immediately, guided by some mysterious internal lodestone, she made her way to the fabric stalls and there immersed herself in looking and comparing for almost a quarter of an Hour, at the end of which time she was draped with purchases on all sides. Of course Calatindil offered to carry them for her.
"No, no," Ilmarien cried. "You can't! There's no need! I won't let you!... Oh really, will you? How kind of you! You see, I can never resist good cloth! Where are we going now?"
They were walking along a beautiful little twitten, where roses grew on trellises along the walls.
"To the Square of the King," Calatindil replied. "We have come in a circle, lady; this is the Alley of Roses."
"Oh! I see!"
They walked in silence for a little while, until Ilmarien asked Calatindil to tell her something interesting. He immediately launched into a discussion of architecture:
"As you will observe, Lady Ilmarien, in Tirion every window looks eastwards towards the sea. As you may also see, the western walls need none - the Tree-light diffuses through the walls."
"How extraordinary! Of what are the western walls made?"
"Its name is not known to me," Calatindil said, hurrying on as Ilmarien looked disappointed: "I believe our craftsmen melt shells in the dew of Telperion to make it."
Ilmarien declared herself impressed, amazed, and fascinated, all at once as, smiling her frank appreciation, she reached out to stroke a white hand along the nearest wall. She was really very beautiful.
