"Regrettably the Enemy's servants are quite capable of denouncing him. I'm not sure they're capable of inventing, learning, and reliably thinking in a language that bears no resemblance to any known on this world, but it's not impossible. The stronger argument is that if this magic can do as much as you say, and the enemy had it, the war'd already be lost - but it's possible that you represent the upper bounds of your magic's actual capabilities, and you haven't demonstrated anything that would have us all dead. You haven't even demonstrated abilities that would let you stab me in my sleep, which the Enemy might risk revealing the rest to achieve..."

"Um, at risk of sounding threatening, I probably could kill at least a few of you before you got me back if I were inclined to do that. I don't use Conquest much, but ordering someone who isn't themself a very strong mage to die isn't that hard."

"That's useful evidence you don't work for the Enemy, then. It'd be nice to have a way of verifying it, but we may be stuck there. ...what's the range? It's easier to kill people than to protect yourself from being told to die?"

"Protecting yourself from being told to die isn't an active thing. The more powerful a mage you are, the harder it is for someone else to do magic to you without your consent."

"And range?"

"I wouldn't say there's a hard limit. I have to know where someone is and be able to comprehend the distance."

"...you can kill anyone who's not themselves a powerful mage, at any distance you can comprehend, if you know where they are? How does your world function?"

"Because it's not hard to find out who's been killing people if people start dying, and then all the other mages band together and kill you. We have a very firm code of honor, and while it's not terribly restrictive, if you deviate from it you will die."

"Hmmmm.

This is unsporting, but settles permanently the question of whether you have the capabilies you claim and would therefore allow us to trust you completely - if we cross to that mountain range and look out, we'll certainly see some orcs, the foot soldiers of the enemy. Would you be willing to kill one, to demonstrate this capability?"

"I would rather my sister were here to find out why they were working for them and if there was some way to get them to not do that, instead, but I'd do it."

"Thank you. We have tried; the problem seems intractable. They won't talk to us and won't agree to or abide by terms. Orcs are - Elves, just like us, only tortured beyond recognition and in the Enemy's thrall. I think he uses them so half because he needs an army and half because it's awful to fight them. We could climb to the right spot this afternoon."

"That seems reasonable."

Assuming--and she thinks this is a reasonable assumption, but it would only take her a moment and a small exercize of sympathy to verify it, once they're there--that he's telling the truth about everything...this may be an atrocity worse than any she's ever heard tell of in the legends of her home. She really hopes her sister's here.

They leave after lunch. They take ten guards. 

And, eventually, there are orcs. Tell me about these people, she coaxes the world when she can see them.

They're in pain, says the world, first, and then: they are orcs, they serve Melkor, they hate Elves, they were Elves.

That opens up some pretty horrifying possibilities for how to turn them against each other, but for now...

For now they can have a dozen gees of pressure each on their brains.

He watches. "Thank you. I'm persuaded. Let's return to Eithel Sirion so you can meet my father and so we can determine how best to teach these abilities to those who need them."

"In...a minute..." she gasps, and then falls to her knees and vomits.

Oh. Right. Child from a peaceful society. He carefully puts a hand on her shoulder. "Water?"

"Thanks," she says hoarsely.

"That was a horribly cruel thing to ask of you. It was almost certainly the right strategic decision, but nonetheless."

"He's torturing them."

"I know."

She stands up shakily. "Don't--don't apologize for asking me to do that. It was the right choice, you're right about that. I'd do it again. I will, if it comes up."

"It's sometimes worth acknowledging the costs even of right decisions. We should head back now; they'll be curious how that happened and they'll come looking for us."