:It really does: Leareth swings off the path toward the food-hall. 

'Second people' has the same problem though not as badly, 'followers' I think is even worse, 'those apt to die' is very poetic but both mean and hopefully soon-to-be-inaccurate...

Leareth nods. :In my world, peoples are sometimes named for their characteristics - for example, if they are very good with horses or something - or for their region of origin. Are there any options like that?: 

There's plains-people and fast-people. They're not really good with anything - I'm sure there will be, eventually, but they just started, we weren't good at anything when we just started either. If they turn out to have mage-potential they can be mage-people though maybe that'll introduce internal issues since not all of them will be mages even if some of them are.

Leareth quickly collects some food. :I could walk there with you if you wish. I have nothing else planned with myself until Van is back: 

I'd be delighted. Fast-people is neutral enough, maybe that's what we should be aiming for?

:That is the genre of name I would aim for, yes: 

Then they can go down to the third linguistics guild, which is having a heated argument in Quenya about the merits and demerits of the proposed word 'fírima', from the root for "expiring", poetically translated as "apt to die". Maitimo does not get up to give a speech but circulates hearing people out and occasionally gently raising objections.

Leareth sits down to wait nearby, wondering what he's about to learn when Vanyel gets back. 

Which is going to be a few hours later! Leareth can feel the Gate go up, and start heading in that direction while he alerts Maitimo. 

He will extract himself from the linguistics debate, which has not lost steam at all, and come on over.

Vanyel is just peeking through the Gate, finding both of them with Mindspeech. :I'm back! Melody around? She's going to want to meet someone: 

Hey Melody! Van's back! And he says you'll want to meet someone. I am guessing Jisa.

And a girl of about seventeen piles through the Gate after Vanyel, looking everywhere around her at once. 

It's a gorgeous little stone city glittering under an unfamiliar sun. There is a permanent Gate-terminal to Vinyamar in the town square, right over there; framing the permanent Gate there is a strikingly realistic stone statue of Vanyel and Leareth, arms outstretched, looking into each others' eyes, standing in a snowdrift. 

White boats in the shape of a swan are docked at the water's edge, and people are unloading fish, singing while they work. 

Jisa snickers. Looks back over her shoulder. "Stef, are you coming?" 

Stef piles through the Gate. "I'm coming!" Yfandes is right behind him. 

And then a very tall, handsome blond young man, who bows politely to the first person he sees. 

"This is Treven!" Jisa says delightedly. "He's Randi's heir! We're lifebonded!" 

"Welcome to Tol Eressëa, Herald Treven! Jisa! I'm Nelyafinwë; this is the home of those Quendi who need easy access to Valinor for the work that we do."

Vanyel makes his customary face at the statue, which is very well done and also he has to look at it every single time he uses the Gate-terminus and why. 

"Whose work is that statue?" Treven says, because clearly he has to make it even worse or something. "It's exquisitely done." 

Leareth stands back, unsure how to interact with the new Valdemarans. Apparently Jisa has been clamouring to visit on and off for the last five years; someone must have finally decided she was old enough. 

"My mother did it! She liked the part of the story where a prophecied war was averted because we had a prophecy here about horrible things happening to my family and that one seems thoroughly disproved too. Aren't they lovely?"

"Van said they were embarrassing but they're delightful!"