Blues in Candy Arda
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Hmmmmmm, says Sánedel, attempting coyness and missing due to lingering shivering. Oh, fine. For you, my love, I'll brave the horror of the Valar.

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They're getting all tame! Worst comes to worst they will assign us streetsweeping.

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Snort. Now, now. They might let me make flowers, instead!

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I think you would have to grovel. Are you any good at groveling?

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Are you any good at groveling at people who are sanctimonious buffoons, I mean.

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He laughs. Well I can't say I have any practice with sanctimonious buffoons in particular, but I bet I could make do. And vomit later, where they can't see me.

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He runs a hand through his hair and makes a pleased noise. Then let's go. 

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Valinor is protected by a mountain range that defies the geological principles so strenuously obeyed by the rest of the continent. It goes high enough they cannot easily fly over it, the air too thin to support any body with wings substantial enough for motion. They can go high enough up elsewhere, insubstantial, and then glide in. It's glorious. The Trees, however stupid a concept, are stunningly pretty. 

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They really are. He'd sort of forgotten how pretty - he's seen them once before, but it was a long time ago and he hasn't been back since. He won't indulge in a sigh, but he will look at them appreciatively.

Too bad about the local Ainur residents. He might actually like this place, if it wasn't for the annoying and omnipresent gilded-cage feel. Yes, such a lovely and perfect paradise, lit by these gorgeous trees, while all the rest of the world is dark, and all incarnates who enter find no way to leave.

Bleh. He's already annoyed about being here, and he's technically not even in Valinor yet.

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They glide on in, serenely, and come to rest - the winds control where - in a hilly area in the north. Once there's air they can change to songbirds.

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What, songbirds? What if he wants to be a cranky crow, with a grating and loud cry, just to annoy them all?

....

Yes, fine, songbirds, songbirds it is. Groveling. They can even match, that'll make Sauron happy.

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It does! Tirion-wards - yes, he says delightedly, Melkor's here -

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Do they still have him sweeping streets?

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Of course! They'll have him at it for years - he sighs with satisfaction - it's fine, we can wait -

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I suppose so, but what's there to do in Valinor? Here, everything's so still and, and. Tame.

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Oh, I don't mean wait in Valinor for Melkor to get off parole, I mean wait until Melkor is off parole to derail the Plan.

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Oh, well then. He might be tempted to think something along the lines of how that's not really better, but he has centuries of practice keeping the parts of himself that Sauron wouldn't approve of on a nice, neat little shelf in his mind, where they can be summarily ignored. Like so. In that case, I believe I'll wander around until I grow bored. Unless you'd like me to follow at your heels?

That last part was teasing. Or - meant to be. He could be persuaded to seriousness, but he's not there yet.

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Tempting. But no, wander around, get bored, make their mushrooms sing.

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They'll be delighted by my novelty, he agrees, and off he wanders.

Yep. Valinor. Still - pretty itself.

Have the elves come up with any neat inventions lately?

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There are glowing rocks! That's new. And libraries! Also new.

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He is so excited.

... But he does think he'll take the time to learn to read the language. And then their libraries.

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The libraries are quite comprehensive. The Noldor find stonework fascinating and have learned a lot about it.

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Absolutely brimming with excitement, this one. Stonework.

Whee.

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