“’Tisn’t natural.”

Sam scoops up flowing water from the short trough and sprinkles it on a thirsty flower, shaking his head.

“How so, Sam?” Elrond gravely regards the Hobbit, suppressing a smile. “It’s not magic. Surely the City of Kings is allowed to have marvels?”

Sam snorts. “The kitchens at Bag End have had pumped water for as long as anyone can remember and I have a built a deal of irrigation, Master Elrond.” He waves the ladle at the shoulder of the mountain connected to the city two full levels below them. “It looks like water runs uphill here!”