How far is it? I can fly us both, very swiftly. Here is an impression of just how swift.

"About a hundred miles," the orc says. "Yes, please do."

I can only safely carry you at high speed if I make a shell of rock that covers you entirely. Are you alright with this or should we just fly slower?

Slower, please. He's looking at her in awe.

She lifts him up on a short platform of rock, with more rock in front of it. It has a chair, which she indicates he ought to sit in.

When he does they both lift into the air and head north. She speeds up like a horse going into gallop in five seconds. And keeps speeding up. She's high enough not to be in too terrible a risk of hitting something, and flying at this speed it shouldn't be more harmful than a very stiff wind.

The orc is extremely impressed, and points them towards Angband.

She heads that way.

I am unfamiliar with this land and have only the word of the few people I've talked to so far to know its history and customs. This will still take the better part of an hour. Enough time to explain things to me if you can think of anything to explain.

We are the people of this land. They are coming to take it. They have their own land, far away, but they wasted and despoiled it and blamed us so they could justify taking ours.

They say it was theirs before it was yours, and you expelled them. I deliberately do not believe either side of this conflict, yet. Though wasting things does seem like them.

I have no idea how they tell it; they arrived on our shores very recently, and I haven't met them. They had their continent. It's the other one.

I haven't visited it yet. Fly, fly, fly.

Inconsistent histories, how predictable. She should have been taking notes. She scribes close-packed letters into wafers of stone as best she can remember her conversations so far.

And they approach a towering stone fortress.

She slows down and lands about a mile off, and investigates its structure through the world-sense. Please be well made. Durable things made by people who are not her are so rare.

It is extraordinarily well-made, with great care. It's also very very large.

It's sort of beautiful, despite the foreboding. There's just something about a solid, lasting structure. Which is why she builds them so often. 

Much as she wants to see the place on top of feeling it, she's not so incautious as to walk into the place of power of a possibly evil Fate-but-possibly-more-powerful-and-definitely-more-flexible.

I like this fortress. It's a good fortress. think I would rather wait and listen here, though. I would not be offended if your master chose to relay messages rather than coming out, or if he asked me to leave.

I expect he'll want to see you, the creature says anxiously, but I'll go in and he can probably speak directly, from here.

Yes, I think I will wait here.

A minute later, she hears the voice, low and powerful and instantly identifiable as coming from the maker of the fortress; it has the same character to it. "Welcome, stranger."

"Thank you. Hello. I am new to this land so I wished to speak to any important people here. I am known as Mountain."

"I am known as Melkor. You are new to the land; I helped shape it and thought I knew everything there was to know of it, but you are strange to me. Do you like it?"

"The land itself, I don't think I've seen enough of it to judge. It's very, very different from how I am used to land working. I do know I like your fortress. Simple, elegant, extremely sturdy. The best sort of construction."

Deep, rumbling laughter. "Thank you. It endured for thousands of years while I was in prison, and remained here when I escaped. Good craftsmanship is its own reward."

"Indeed."

"I've heard of your imprisonment from others." Fairly damning stuff, too. "And I came here with the intent to give each side a fair hearing. Not that I necessarily intend to interfere one way or the other in local disputes. Just know that I'm going to be trying not to make friends or enemies until I think I've found the truth."

"A courageous commitment. 

This planet was the personal project of a power called Eru. He's told his people that he is the creator of all the universe. I think the Elves may believe it. The Valar know better, but as lies go, it advantages them. Eru had a plan for exactly how the world would play out. I have different aesthetic sensibilities than he, and altered it. To my surprise he told me that my alterations were all to the good, and were in fact themselves part of his plan. He remains convinced that I am an agent of his will for this world; I am unsure of that myself, but I have space to create new and astonishing peoples, to build great and enduring things."

She listens impassively, nodding occasionally. She seems to be doing a lot of that today.