"Thank you. Can you explain to us how quickly your abilities grow, and on what timeline you'd expect to be able to lead an assault on Angband?"

"I went from almost zero to where I am now in seven years. How quickly my powers wax depends on how much I use them, which is why I'm currently hovering rather than standing on the floor. I...should probably do some experiments, see if I can do anything at all to Angband from Himring, I genuinely don't know how difficult assaulting it will be."

"But plausibly within fifty years?"

"If I can't do it within fifty years I'm not sure it would be possible to do without me at all."

"Well, we weren't at all sure that it was. That rather didn't allow us to abandon the attempt."

"I can certainly understand that."

"I cannot imagine that you've had time in a week to satisfy all of your curiosity about this world. Do you have questions for us?"

"I don't think I know the right questions to ask. 'Can make metaphysically binding promises' and 'marriage consists of irrevocable soul-bonding' aren't really options that would have entered my hypothesis-space ahead of time."

"Very well. Feel at liberty to reach out to us if questions do arise."

"I appreciate it. Is there anything you can think of that I should know about the situation that I might not already?"

"I don't know what my nephews told you and would not desire to insult them by suggesting they might have kept anything of strategic relevance from you."

"In that case I shall simply make inquiries as the gaps in my knowledge present themselves."

"Thank you. I won't keep you from reuniting with your sister for any longer. You are both invited to dine with us tonight."

"Thank you," she says, curtsies again, and heads off to find Illia.

Illia is eminently findable. And then the two of them can spend several hours in Illia's room, plotting and hugging and generally being glad to see each other again.

And after a while of this, even through the thick stone it's entirely possible that the enraged exclamation, "WHAT!?" will be audible to Elven ears.

Yeah, they heard that, and are mildly concerned, but it'd be rude to interrupt and neither of them seem the temperament to melt the building in a fit of rage, so-

Hey, Celegorm, I figured out how to extend osanwe range by magic. Why didn't you tell me about the Doom?

Shouldn't apply to you, you're mortal, and to the extent it would knowing about it makes that worse, my cousins are idiots.

How would knowing about it make it worse?

It's on my family and all who follow us, all who follow us being included because they're guilty of continuing to support our cause after the Valar condemned us. You weren't guilty of that, a minute ago, but now you are. Cousins. Idiots.

Technically your cousins didn't tell me. They told my sister, who told me. Of course my sister being Doomed is nearly as bad, so. But it shouldn't apply to me because I'm human, right, and it means I can plan things with the understanding that if I do something it's less doomed than if you do it.

Think so, yeah.

So it's probably a net positive for us to know about it. What are the terms, exactly? Apparently you're all supposed to die horribly but Illia didn't get a lot more detail than that.

Tears unnumbered ye shall shed; and the Valar will fence Valinor against you, and shut you out, so that not even the echo of your lamentation shall pass over the mountains. On the House of Fëanor the wrath of the Valar lieth from the West unto the uttermost East, and upon all that will follow them it shall be laid also. Their Oath shall drive them, and yet betray them, and ever snatch away the very treasures that they have sworn to pursue. To evil end shall all things turn that they begin well; and by treason of kin unto kin, and the fear of treason, shall this come to pass. The Dispossessed shall they ever be for ever.

Ye have spilled the blood of your kindred unrighteously and have stained the land of Aman. For blood ye shall render blood, and beyond Aman ye shall dwell in Death's shadow. For though Eru appointed to you to die not in Eä, and no sickness may assail you, yet slain ye may be, and slain ye shall be: by weapon and by torment and by grief; and your houseless spirits shall come then to Mandos. There long shall ye abide and yearn for your bodies, and find little pity though all whom ye have slain should entreat for you. And those that endure in Middle-earth and come not to Mandos shall grow weary of the world as a great burden, and shall wane, and become as shadows of regret before the younger race that cometh after. The Valar have spoken.