:That is why I chose a slightly different location: Leareth can't remember if he even ran that by Maitimo or just decided it. :I can scout at a distance with magic, in - several days. Not now: 

Yeah. It's all right. Melkor can't cross the continent in the space of a day, even assuming he escaped unscathed and is coming right here.

:How fast can a Vala move?: Leareth grimaces again as he does the next ward-stone. 

The number I was told was four hundred miles in a day.

:So, two days to reach us?: He can't remember if Valmar was nearer or more distant to their present location than Tirion. Also, right, that's longer than he expects, different day length. 

Yep. I think - I think we're just dead, if he comes straight here to kill us, if the Valar don't catch up with him. I don't see how we could stop that.

I'm hoping he isn't, himself, sure of that. 

:Unfortunately, I agree: If he had somehow managed to bring anyone else in from Velgarth... But even if he could have figured it out and done it in such a short time, it would have come at the cost of something else, and all of the preparations he's made – the personal shields for the leaders of the expedition, the wards, the food-preservation, probably the weather-barrier too – have proved to be extremely necessary. :He did, however, make himself very obvious to the other Valar, rather than remain hidden, when he attacked the Trees: 

Yes. And if they can successfully delay him - or if the giant spider isn't entirely under his command, or if he exerted himself in achieving that and can't immediately follow it up with another fight - there's plenty that could go well but none of it under our control, I don't think. 

We should consider whether to send you with Huan to run as far as you can, hide out until you can defend yourself again.

:No: Leareth is somewhat surprised at how sure he is of that. It's not an unreasonable proposal, but... :Either way is a gamble. If I did run into trouble, alone, it would be even worse. I prefer to stay here:

(It might be different if he were really and truly risking his life. And - Maitimo probably thinks he is, he doesn't known about a certain spell hidden in the Void that he set up two millennia ago. But, given that fallback, he's pretty sure staying here is the path with the greatest chance of this world not ending up destroyed entirely.)  

Okay. 

He's been assuming Leareth is risking dying forever here but - it would not actually be very surprising if he had something up his sleeve, given how many new capabilities he's manifested when it was necessary and not sooner.

We're hoping to establish contact with some of the locals - they can't all have been slaughtered in the last week - and get a better idea of the general situation from there.

:That seems wise: Next ward-stone. Leareth does, at some point, hope to sit down and tell Maitimo about all of his magic. It'll be valuable for his planning (he's not sure he wants Fëanáro knowing it, giving him any more hammers to whack at his goals with might not be advised yet). But everything keeps being an emergency and it doesn't actually seem that this is going to quiet down now that they've arrived.

...He can plan for it, though. :At some point I wish to describe to you more thoroughly how my world works, and the general kinds of magic it allows, so that you can have a better sense of what is and is not doable. I am not sure when will make sense: 

Works for me whenever it makes sense for you. In the sense that there's pretty much no time when that wouldn't be one of the top six things he should be doing.

He can carry Leareth between wardstones. Absolutely no one thinks anything of it except Findekáno, who thinks it is funny.

:Ask me about it when I wake up tomorrow, I think: Leareth is in a lot of pain by the time they finish. :There, the wards ought to last indefinitely now if not disturbed: Though Melkor personally showing up would likely count as a disturbance, and from there it wouldn't take him long to break through, and – no, there isn't any point in chasing down contingencies for a situation they definitely cannot survive. 

He keeps his eyes closed and tries not to move his head at all while Maitimo brings him back to the tent. 

Maitimo tucks him back in. Sings. Want the drugs now?

:Please: 

The drugs come in a thick syrup that makes the lips slightly numb. 

Leareth swallows it, not asking about the dose; he's going to be even less able to track his surroundings or defend himself for the next however many hours, but he's already relying on everyone here (and it's very much in their interest to guard him until he can help them fight). If he gets some solid uninterrupted sleep, he should be over the backlash sooner.

:Thank you, Maitimo: He closes his eyes.

Mmmhmm. 

And he calls in someone else to take over the song from him and heads out to do more preparing. 

Things move in the dark. Some of them look to be on fire. They circle closer, and then suddenly the world looks clear and safe, which is not reassuring at all. 

The Quendi watch, anxiously, and sing.

The enemy hits the shield in five different places, on all sides, and is thrown back.

We are all going to act like they can do that all day and we don't care, he announces.

How long -

Not very, I think, if they keep it up.

They don't, though. Everyone waits, and sings, and waits, and a few more blows land against the walls at various places, and then the night is silent again.

When Leareth wakes up Macalaurë is singing in his tent. He is not singing barely-loud-enough-to-be-heard; he is doing a concert or something. And he has an astonishingly good voice.


Perhaps relatedly, Tyelcormo's injuries have healed entirely and Leareth should feel better than he has any right to.

He sits up, stretches. :You sing beautifully. How long has it been?: 

Seven hours, he says, without pausing the song. How much longer will you need to do a short-distance Gate for everybody here?

Leareth checks his reserves. :Not yet, but – how short-distance? Is there a reason we need to move? I could Gate a mile for this many people in...another seven or eight hours, if I needed to, though slightly longer to rest would be preferable. I have not really had a chance to rest fully since arriving in your world; I suppose we are at war now and perhaps the opportunity will never arise: