Nogdor's 5th Riddle

The Poisoner's Arms bar was hardly the place for a man in a long purple robe to show up.
But then, this man was accompanied by an automaton with a huge blade. The burly patrons of this bar had no problem with a relationship of that nature if one of the partners was a metal killing machine.

For some reason it was here that Nogdor chose to reveal his fourth riddle.
Tungsten, the aforementioned automaton, who had the powers of speech and logic due to a magical crystal brain, asked why.
"Surely," He grated, "The brains of these thugs would be stretched just to calculate their bar tabs! A riddle of your calibre would be the death of them!"
"And that is what I intend to do!" Nogdor had said, "End them by educating them! Some mental exercise to balance out their beggar-beating muscles! If they begin to develop some brainpower as a result of my riddles, then perhaps they will put their talents to better use than killing kittens!"

Nogdor, having entered the bar closely followed by Tungsten, leapt onto an unoccupied table and shouted,
"Come one, come all! I challenge ye to a competition! The prize is Hylanthean gold!"
Nogdor had not the chance to blink before he was surrounded. Ruffians were suddenly at every side of the table, bellowing that they would win this gold, be it by arm-wrestle, knife fight or head-bashing competition.
"Ah, not so hasty! For the prize cannot be won through force: It must be won through brainpower!"
Several of the patrons were confused already.
"Here is the riddle of which I speak. To ye who solve it, my slave Tungsten will reveal the Hylanthean trinket. Anyone wishing to take the prize before the riddle is solved, shall only receive a sword."
A few of the patrons shrugged to each other, seeming to think a sword wasn't too bad a consolation prize.
"In the guts, you fools!" Yelled Nogdor. They now understood.
"Very well." Continued Nogdor, "This riddle is about my friend, Anna."

Anna, grammatical
Took a sabbatical
Down to a land in the West.
In this land, a city
In this city, a tree.
It was white. Which land fits this best?"

Tar Palantir was sitting in the corner of the bar, drinking a glass of ale, his trademark serpent staff leaning beside him. He recognized Nogdor the instant he spoke, and, after thinking a moment, shouted, "Nogdor! Long time no see! I believe I may have this riddle of yours. I name the land of Gondor, home to the city of Minas Tirith, in which stands the White Tree of Gondor, descendent of ancient Telperion. Have I bested you so quickly, my friend?"

"Ah! Alas, I am beaten already!" Cried Nogdor. "Well done, well done, Tar!I suppose I should have known a person with your last name would guess that riddle in a moment!
Did you notice, also, the relevance of my friend Anna grammatical?
For 'Gondor', of course, is an anagram of Nogdor! Rather clever, I thought.
In any case, here is your prize."
As Nogdor handed over a large, gold coin shaped like a curled-up dragon, jealous eyes followed him from around the bar.
"You ruffians!" Nogdor addressed the burly thugs surrounding him. "You could learn something from this man! See how one who has a brain gets the gold, but you knuckle-headed brutes get nothing!"
Now the bar-patrons found this purple-robed milksop offending them! Hurting their feelings! Well, large metal-man or not, The thugs' hurt feelings wanted to make Nogdor feel hurtings.

As he and Tungsten beat a hasty retreat from the Poisoner's Arms, Nogdor made a mental note that perhaps some people were more suited to trades (theft, muggings, murder) than higher education.