"...can't leave Jeremy, but I guess if we leave Joanna and Catherine it won't upset her too much - if I just wear Jeremy in a sling we can broomstick there behind Michael."

"That might be a good way to start. And she'd probably also find it upsetting to be singled out and refused entry."

"There would be so much screaming. They know what an orc is, we can just explain her and if they won't have her then we don't move there."

Nod. "Good skill."

"Thanks."

And a broomstick and a sling and a baby and two parents go to Doriath.

Elves meet them at the border. They would like them to swear not to harm anyone inside Doriath's borders.

"Humans don't work that way."

       "Nonetheless."

"I swear not to start any fights within Doriath's borders."

      "That's not the phrasing -"

"If someone attempts to harm my wife and the mother of my children, or our newborn son, you can bet I will stop them."

      "Then you will die."

"I have lots of nonlethal stopping options, pointy-ears, calm down."

      " - demonstrate -"

"Delighted," Michael says, "Stupefy."

A few minutes later, "Enervate."

       "The Queen wants to see you."

"Oh, so we're all settled on the swearing?"

       "Do not test the limits of our generosity."

"If your generosity were less limited then that would be easier," Michael mutters, but in English. 

Rebecca is subdued and stands a little behind Michael, cradling the baby. He squirms.

They're shown into Doriath. It's outrageously pretty. The footpaths through the trees are full of flowers in two dozen different colors, it's quiet and serene, there's a brook babbling somewhere just outside earshot, and birds sing from the trees. The trees get taller and more and more light filters through their branches until at last they reach a grand clearing full of tall flowers, and behind it a waterfall and a wide gate built into a cave. 

Rebecca's footsteps trail marigolds. She picks one and puts it in her politely braided hair.

They are led into the cave. It's lit, by virtue of the walls glowing in their intricate silver patterning to make them look like trees. The ground is more densely padded with flowers. The sound of a babbling brook is replaced with that of a sizable river.

The Elves are all singing.

And eventually they are led into a room larger even than Hogwarts, at the edge of which sit two thrones. 

Wow.

Hello, Melian says. Welcome to Doriath, children. Your magic is like nothing I have witnessed in this world.

"We, ah, seem to be from a neighboring one."

And this one is no place for children, not outside Doriath. But we cannot compromise the safety of Doriath. Would we compromise it in inviting you here?

"No. We have four children and all we want is a space where they can grow up in safety."

Nod, nod.

"One of our children was born in Angband. Her grandmother was captured while pregnant, and her mother escaped with her before she learned to talk. Her mother is dead, but she is well and happy and the Enemy has no sway over her."

      Thingol frowns. "She's an orc?"

"Yes."

      "Has to swear not to harm anybody."

" - I think that should be okay."

"- I'd want to - know more about what that would do, if it would mean people could hurt her or if it would do weird things if people lied to her about what harmed them -"

"No one will do her violence in Doriath."

"She might not want to live here forever. We might find a way to go home, or might want to live with the rest of our family if the war ends -"

"Oh, she need only swear not to harm anyone here."

"That's probably fine - I'd just want to ask more people."

"What do you intend to do for Doriath while you reside here."

"My magic's very useful."