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Tumunzahar makes Menegroth look like a contract project. Which, the Dwarves assure her, it was. The stonework is astonishingly careful and beautiful, silky to the touch up close while from a distance it gives the impression of stretching on forever above, a sky of stone with crystals for stars. Vast natural cave systems are connected by dozens of perfectly smooth, gently sloped broad stone pathways from which the fall, if she fell, would be several miles down. There are handrails. "We use those to move materials carts," someone explains to her, "we're not going to be reckless."
There's an amphitheater, a place where a hundred of the stone walkways twine around to create space for a hundred thousand people to sit in close proximity, and someone is giving a lecture or a demonstration at the base of it, the seats closest to him filled with eager, tiny, bearded Dwarf-children.
And they spiral down, and down, and down, past waterfalls and egg-sized gemstones left half in the rock and halls of crystal. Everything grows gradually more ornate and more perfectly maintained and the clang of hammers fades behind them. "People say," her guide says, "that we only have a council instead of a single King because there were nine winners of the competition to design the throne so we couldn't just select one person to sit it." And they push open the doors to reveal, indeed, nine thrones so elaborate it would be hard to choose between them, and nine squat bearded people sitting them.
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purposeful_glory
I can do spells even when being osanwë-screamed-at. He will not be able to swat me around or disarm me for more than a moment.
And if you are losing, you can get out.
He stares at her for a second like he's thinking about saying something and then thinks better of it.
If I had something like that I think I might stop constantly wanting to die.
There' s a reason I didn't say it in the first place. Have fun. There's a continent east of here, too, if you want to check that one out. Cuivienen itself is supposed to be maybe fifteen hundred miles.
purposeful_glory
I will keep these destinations in mind. And, y'know, credit for not saying it till I asked.
She waves.
She appears at the gate to Mithrim.
She waves.
She appears at the gate to Mithrim.
They are startled to see her, but not that startled, because they knew she had invisibility. They would like to verify that she's Loki.
purposeful_glory
She is Loki! She can turn somebody into a bird, voila. All clear to come in?
All clear!
purposeful_glory
She does not teleport in. Sometimes there are Balrogs about. She walks; she goes looking for the addressees of her letters.
Most of them are for Nolofinwë. A few of them are for names she does not recognize. Findekáno's is of course for him.
purposeful_glory
She gives the unrecognized names to Nolofinwë too on the assumption he'll pass them on. "Hi. Brought you some letters."
"Hello. Thank you."
Loki!
Thank you. How is everything?
Eastern shore of the lake, we're trying to figure out their generator.
purposeful_glory
She flies out. I'm sure they developed it way past the point I explained it and past the point where I understand electricity, but I could make vague guesses. Here, have a letter. Nolofinwë is not watching; when he's got it in his hand the other seven pages appear.
He raises an eyebrow, smiles slightly. Thank you. They don't have all the engineering talent among the Noldor, we're figuring it out.