Minas Tirith, and all of Middle-earth, existed originally nowhere else but in the vivid imagination (or, as he himself would put it, the "fantasy") of J.R.R. Tolkien. But those whose hearts have stirred when the cock crowed as Gandalf sat astride Shadowfax at the Great Gate facing the Witch-king, and the horns of Rohan first echoed across the Pelennor, have also entered Tolkien's creation. Others, wishing to further explore this secondary world, have had their alter egos stroll the streets of Minas Tirith in search of adventure.

Some of these role-players, like most readers of The Lord of the Rings, will ignore many of the details in this world, especially questions of logistics, with which much of this article is concerned. They would receive no admonishment from Professor Tolkien, if I understand the views expressed in his Letters correctly. There are those of us like the professor, however, who find questions about such detail "fatally attractive." My guess is that most of the readers of Other Hands fall into this latter category. We have experienced secondary belief and, like Tolkien, have experienced enchantment through the sub-creative process.

Secondary belief, as Tolkien stated in his essay "On Fairy-stories," is not suspended disbelief. On occasion, while closely examining the secondary world, one may uncover aspects of it which are inconsistent with our primary world, and not caused by whatever special characteristics the secondary world may have.

If we do not choose to ignore those inconsistencies—to do so would be a form of suspended disbelief—then the role of translator of The Red Book of Westmarch, which Tolkien assumed, allows us two other choices: 1) we can say that the chronicler of The Red Book has erred, or 2) we can engage in further subcreation to somehow explain the inconsistency. Although some explanations of this type can strain the limits of credibility, I believe that in a world as rich and full of wonder as Middle-earth there is much room for the unlikely to become probable, if handled with creativity.

At first, after reading Anders Blixt's article on Minas Tirith, I thought that I would need quite a deal of creativity to make the logistical situation of the city seem reasonable. However, after doing some research (and still using a little bit of creativity) I found that while we can all agree on the beauty of the city, perhaps the design isn't quite so improbable after all.

Direct research is limited by the small amount of source material written by Tolkien. Therefore, much of the research is also a process of finding analogous source materials from our primary world. Often, however, one only searches for information that supports one's position, and ignores the rest. As such, any conclusions presented are often little better than a statement of my own opinion. With this forewarning, I will proceed with my arguments.

Although Medieval Europe is in many ways the closest analogy we have to Middle-earth, it may be misleading to rely overly much on this analogy. As for the Realms-in-Exile, the political system seems to me to have had more in common with the Roman Empire. Social differences include a better educated and better fed populace. Scientifically, the Dúnedain seemed to be superior to Medieval Europeans in engineering and navigational skills. All these differences, I believe, would have produced a civilization which was not only materially but psychologically different from that of Medieval Europe.1

There were also other elements which would be even more important in shaping the psyche of the exiles. The indisputable presence of irredeemably hostile, monstrous creatures would certainly have made them very concerned about the survival of their society. This would be especially true in Gondor, before the first overthrow of Sauron. Also, the presence of the Elves, an immortal race superior to humans in almost every way, would not have added to the Dúnedain's sense of security, no matter how benign their intentions.

I believe it was a strong Elvish influence, along with the longer lifespan of the Dúnedain (or at least their nobles), which played an important role in making Gondorian society as traditional as it was. Keeping this in mind, it is my assertion that city planning would be effected by these differences, psychological and material. So, although many of the cities of medieval Europe were built with relatively strong defenses, none of them were built to defend against dragons.

Graham Staplehurst writes that Minas Tirith (or "Minas Anor," the original name of the city which I will henceforth refer to it as) was constructed around an older Númenórean fortress, which seems reasonable enough. The site was very important strategically, overlooking the narrow gap of land between the White Mountains and the Anduin. As such, like Minas Ithil, it was originally built primarily for defensive rather than commercial reasons. This is underlined by the name of the city, the "Tower of the Setting Sun."2

According to Graham, construction of the outer walls of Minas Anor began just after the arrival of Anárion, and was completed some sixty-five years later. Although certainly not an impossible task for the exiled Númenóreans, this would have been a serious undertaking. What would have inspired the Dúnedain to build such a massive defensive structure, so soon after Númenor's downfall?

The answer, I believe, is that they knew what was coming. Sauron, upon returning to Mordor, would naturally have put his Ring back on. This would have been immediately detected by the wearers of the three Elven rings, one of whom at that time was Gil-galad, friend of Elendil. Upon learning of Sauron's return, Elendil would have quickly warned his sons via palantír. This dire news set off the construction boom on both sides of the Anduin. For the Gondorians indeed set about constructing not one but three cities. While not the largest in size of these three (Minas Anor, Minas Ithil, and Osgiliath), Minas Anor was given the greatest defenses.3

It was with some hyperbole when I mentioned that Gondorian cities were built with defense against dragons in mind; for this was not, I believe, what the designers of Minas Anor actually tried to do. Throughout the Second Age, Sauron had never been able to recruit a dragon to his own uses. Dragons have their own agenda. Even Morgoth in the First Age had trouble controlling Glaurung. Rather, Minas Anor was built to defend against the type of forces Sauron had previously used and would indeed use again: hordes of Orcs and Men. Keeping this in mind, the dual Kings of Gondor set to constructing their defenses.

Isildur, the older and seemingly prouder brother, chose the role of commanding Minas Ithil, where the first blow would fall. ICE's Minas Ithil supplement states that this city too was built around an older Númenórean site, established to keep an eye on Mordor.4 In my view, because of its vulnerable position, Isildur intended to only delay Sauron's forces at Minas Ithil (and was successful in this goal when the war actually began). The main line of defense would be the Anduin, which was difficult to cross along its lower reaches, so long as the Dúnedain maintained their naval superiority.5

Nevertheless, Isildur and Anárion realized that eventually Sauron would be able to win a crossing over the Anduin, even if he had to go north of the Falls of Rauros. If this occurred before help arrived from the north, Osgiliath would be invested from both sides, and only Minas Anor would stand between Sauron's armies and the heart of Gondor. Recognizing this, and with an unlimited supply of granite immediately nearby, the Kings ordered the construction of their greatest defenses at the foot of Mount Mindolluin.

Having been given the command to construct as strong a fortification as possible, the engineers of Gondor set out and built the mighty walls and Great Gate of Minas Anor. Seated on a bedrock of solid granite, the walls could not be undermined by tunneling. Therefore (as Tolkien wrote) the Gate, strong as it might be, was still the weakest point. Not wanting thereby to compound any weakness, the engineers decided to construct only one gate, despite the inconvenience this would cause to the ease of supply during times of peace.

To reiterate, the Dúnedain were a very traditional society. When they built things, they did so on a large scale and for the very long term—and they built to defend against powers our medieval forebears only encountered in their nightmares.

Now that I have proposed reasons as to why Minas Anor was constructed as it was, we shall turn to the effects of that construction. I believe that we, the readers of Other Hands, are making the effort to recreate a secondary world as realistically as possible and, in many cases, examine aspects of this world as if it were inhabited by real people. If we go to this amount of effort in our examination of Middle-earth, should we not also suppose that the inhabitants of this fantasy world are just as intelligent as we? I must maintain that the city's planners would have foreseen the traffic problems created by the solitary gate of Minas Anor, even if Tolkien did not.

If the situation was unworkable, they would have constructed additional gates despite the weakening of the defenses this would have caused. Since they did not, we must assume they arrived at another solution, or we must accept a degree of suspended disbelief.

The amount of traffic in Minas Anor would be dependent on three factors: the population of the city, the amount of food and goods needed to support that population, and the efficiency of the distribution of the food and goods.

The population of Minas Anor (or any city) will be dependent on the city's size and its population density. The best description of the city that we have from Tolkien is, of course, in the "Minas Tirith" chapter (RotK, Book V, Chapter 1). Although no exact dimensions are given, except the height of the hill and tower, both the designer of the map provided with the 1988 ICE supplement, and Karen Wynn Fonstad in her Atlas of Middle-earth (revised edition, pg. 138) show a city of generally the same size.

Fonstad's version does differ, in that it presents us with elliptical walls. Using the (larger scale) ICE map, one finds a measurement of approximately 2,000 feet from the center of the city to the outer walls (I apologize to our non-American readers for using the English system of measurement, but somehow they seem more appropriate for Middle-earth). This calculated out to give us a city of about 252 square acres in size.6 Let us accept this figure for the moment.

We shall now examine the city's population density. After a long search, the only reference I could find regarding historical population density was 100 people per acre for cities of the ancient Mediterranean (Colin McEvedy, The Atlas of Ancient History, pg. 44). Although averages can often be misleading, I feel that the density of a Gondorian city would most likely be below, rather than above, any average of this sort. As I stated previously, the Dúnedain tended to do things on a large scale. If the imposing walls of Minas Anor are not enough to convince you of this, then consider the carvings of the Argonath. I believe that any city of the Dúnedain would tend to have wide streets and ample room for its inhabitants.

This would be particularly true for Minas Anor, which had always been a prestigious city. It came under royal patronage early, and soon became the summer residence of the King. It was also a center for Gondorian religious practices, because of the presence of the White Tree, as indicated by Michael Hickman in his article concerning that topic (OH 8: 11).

If, then, we accept both this density of no more than 100 people per acre, and a city size of 252 acres, we arrive at a population of a little more than 25,000 inhabitants. If this were the actual population of the city, much of the logistical problem would already be solved. However, both Anders in his article and Graham in the city supplement feel that the population should be much higher—50,000 and 45,000 respectively. I would not disagree with this. The population of a city of the importance of Minas Anor could very well reach 50,000. I also, however, would not dispute Mr. McEvedy's figure. He is, after all, a professional in his field with some actual hard evidence, albeit taken from our primary world.

This leaves us with the alternative that the artists' rendering of the city is actually too small. If you agree with this conclusion, there is a solution that would not require the redrawing of any maps. Simply change the scale of the map, so that the distance from the city center to the outer wall is 2,800, rather than 2,000, feet. For example, on the 1988 edition map, the scale would change from 1" = 300 ft. to 1" = 420 ft. This would give an area of close to 500 acres. The beneficial side effect of this is that it gives more room for the wide streets I believe would be present.7

Note: One eighth (12.5%) of the potential area of levels 1-5, and 5% of level 6, were subtracted, to account for the area occupied by the arm of Mount Mindolluin and the Citadel Rock. The 13 acre area atop the Citadel Rock was added to level 7.

Most pre-industrial cities (and many Third World cities today) had a fair amount of livestock roaming the streets, including pigs and goats. I don't believe this would be true of Minas Anor. Its status as a royal as well as sacred city, and apparent emphasis on cleanliness, would preclude these larger food animals. There would be, however, some minor food production in the form of poultry and eggs. (Remember that a cock crowed at the Great Gate!) Whatever food these animals provided would have been offset by the need for their feed, so there would be no net reduction in the amount of food needing to enter the city. These smaller animals would, however, provide an important source of protein.

The solid rock foundations of the city would have prevented any significant gardening within the city, if space limitations alone did not. Flowers, however, seem to have been in great evidence when the newly crowned Aragorn entered the city. I presume these were grown in window boxes.

Another important requirement for the populace would be fuel for heat and cooking. This would be primarily in the form of wood and charcoal brought in from sources in the nearby mountains and forests. Peat would also probably be available from the plentiful marshy areas along the Anduin. Since Minas Anor seems to have a rather temperate climate, heating needs should not be very substantial. Gondorian architecture was also probably advanced enough to make use of strategically placed windows to aid in the heating (and cooling) of buildings.

I estimate that four wagon-loads of a mix of the above material would meet the heating and cooking requirements for a year for an average household of six people (three adults and three children). I must admit that, due to the very limited amount of written information on this subject available, that this is a very rough estimate. It is probably, however, an overestimate. This calculates out to another 91 wagons needing to reach the city each day.

I would like to mention that not all these wagon-loads need necessarily be actual wagons. My research found that mule trains were used extensively for the transport of goods in southern and eastern Europe well into the 19^th century. Mule trains would be especially well-suited for bringing fuel supplies down from the mountains. Using the Rolemaster transport chart again, we find that a mule train of five mules would carry the equivalent of a wagon-load of goods.

Finally, and the most difficult to estimate, would be the amount of goods imported in both raw materials and finished products. To properly calculate this would require the reconstruction of the entire economy of central Gondor, but I can't imagine it normally being more than 1,000 lbs per person per year. This would require another 114 wagon-loads on average to reach the city each day. This gives us a total of 455 wagon-loads needing to reach the city each day on average to fulfill the supply requirements. Granted this is a highly conjectural figure, and one may wonder at its worth; but, as we shall see, even if the actual requirement of supplies was an additional 100 wagons per day or more, it would have little effect on my argument.

As Anders points out in his article, the absence of proper artificial lighting would prevent the travel of wagons to and from the city at night. However, once inside, the inhabitants could do as the Romans did, and move goods around during all hours. (After all, the main avenue at the lowest circle was called Lampwrights' Street!)

With a 10 to 12-hour day, we have a wagon or mule train reaching the city at an average of one every one and a half to two minutes. They would also be leaving the city at the same rate. The Minas Tirith supplement (pg. 41, 1988 edition) depicts the Great Gate as being 40 ft wide. This would allow two-way traffic with ample room for pedestrians. Naturally, as in all cities, there would be periods of heavy traffic; but I believe that even with wagons and mule trains arriving once every 30 seconds, if the traffic were properly controlled—as it would be, due to the presence of guards—there would not be any more of a traffic bottleneck than many of us experience daily. If any toll or customs stations were required, they could be located outside the Gate, where there would be room for needed passing lanes.

Rather major logistical difficulties would only occur if the situation were as Anders depicts in his article, with wagons having to unload outside the city gates, where goods would be loaded onto more agile carts for transport within the city. The reason for this, Anders states, is that large wagons could not navigate the tight turns and narrow tunnels present in Minas Anor.

Graham writes essentially the same thing. Perhaps, but must it be this way? Going back to an earlier point, would not the city's planners have foreseen this, and allowed for wider streets and tunnels, especially along the main thoroughfares at the lower levels? I believe the idea of not having wagons in Minas Anor originates in the passages where Gandalf and Pippin, riding upon Shadowfax, first enter the city (RotK: 23). There, it states that the people of the city seldom used horses, but could not this be interpreted that they seldom used horses as mounts? The passage also does not exclude the possible use of mule trains or ox-drawn wagons. Finally, and perhaps most importantly, later in the chapter, we have a important description of wagons—both horse and ox-drawn—leaving the city (ibid.: 36).

Let us assume wagons and mule trains can enter the city. Depending on what they are carrying, each would go to a specific warehouse, business, marketplace, or residence. The efficient guild structure would work out the exact off-loading point for much of the cargo. Most likely, the vast majority of any storage areas would be at the lowest level, where property values would be least expensive. Rather than one central food market, there would be several. This is what I believe Graham had in mind as well, since he indicates there are several open areas which could be used as markets, such as the "Diamond" Market on the first level (pg. 45).

This type of dispersed market system would eliminate the need for a swarm of servants descending from the upper levels to buy food. Indeed, as my chart below shows, the majority of Minas Anor's citizens lived on the first two levels. Here is where most of the markets are located, and it would be the lower classes who primarily used the open markets.

The advantage of an open marketplace is that one can quickly compare prices of several vendors, and haggle with the seller. For the more well-to-do on the upper levels, it would not be advantageous for them to send their servants on a round trip of a few miles to the lower levels to haggle with someone else's (their employers') money for food. Rather, they would just purchase the food at the nearby local grocer, paying a higher price, but saving labor costs. In essence, once you accept the idea that wagons and mule trains would enter the city, the supply situation becomes much easier to resolve.

Another potential bottleneck, however, would be between the first and second levels. By this point, traffic would already be reduced to 68% of what it would be at the Great Gate (see diagram), and able to be spread out to nighttime hours. Also, Graham's design of these inter-level gates includes a water wheel-powered lift to raise heavy loads. If one accepts this design, then it is possible that similar lifts were constructed at other inner wall towers to help get handcarts between levels. The most likely location for these would be at the towers facing due north and south. Even more likely would be staircases for pedestrian travel at these towers. These passages would double as sally ports as well.

Other ideas which would assist the situation is that the Anorians would use a technique familiar to railroaders, having "helper" horses assist in getting wagons and carts up the 10' slope Graham indicates existed at the inner gates. Anders' idea of a hoist-and-pulley system might also be used between the inner levels. Still, I believe that the vast majority of the goods could and would simply be transported by wagon or mule straight through the gates.

If one still does not like the idea of heavy wagon traffic in the city, there is another compromise solution. Tolkien writes that the lowest circle of the city was also the widest (RotK: 41). Rather than changing the scale of the map as I have suggested, to increase the size of city, let us move only the outer walls from 2,000 to 2,800 feet. If this is done, then close to 60% of the area of the city would be in the lowest level. This would reduce the need for heavy traffic beyond the first level by half.

Finally I would like to point out that the manure deposited by the large number of draft animals in the city would not simply lie where it fell and attract flies; instead, it would seriously make a valuable export commodity, traded to local farmers by the heretofore little known Muckrakers' Guild. While not powerful, the Muckrakers are a close knit group of poor but enterprising young lads, whose guild emblem I can only imagine.